In May 1980, Mays came to a bar on Roseville Ave. in Newark for a luncheon sponsored by a Black businessman. I went, as I was from Newark and had been a Mays fan since the age of 5. (Ironically, the bar Willie visited was very close to one called “The Yankee Clipper,” DiMaggio’s nickname. It seems like no matter what he did, Willie was always in Joe’s shadow). I didn’t go inside, but what did I see when my carpet cleaning colleague James Ebon’s limo pulled up in front and Willie Mays stepped out? “The Greatest Living Ballplayer,” no matter what anyone else called themselves. Even since DiMaggio died in 1999, I haven’t heard anyone bestow the title on Willie and he’s too humble to say it.