LOYAL. LOCAL. COMPLETE.
On Tuesday, June 18, the world lost Willie Mays: a 24-time All-Star, a record-setting outfielder, a champion on the baseball field and a towering example of grace and resilience in the face of racial prejudice. Millions mourned the loss of Willie Mays, the superstar, but Paris native Bob Goins and his family mourned the loss of a dear friend.
“He was just so amazing to my family,” Goins said.
Mays grew up in Alabama and spent much of his professional career in his home state, California and New York, but accounts from friends, a magazine article and a never-before-seen letter from Mays to the Goins family offer glimpses into the “Say Hey Kid’s” connection to the rural Illinois prairie. Goins has often encountered doubt when explaining his family’s relationship with the man many consider to be the greatest baseball player of all time.
“A lot of people think ‘Oh Bob, you’re just yanking my chain, that’s all a bunch of bull…’ I don’t know how to tell you (where) I’ve been and what I’ve seen,” Goins explained. “This is how close Willie was to Paris.”
The unlikely connection came through the late Louis “Bud” Goins, Bob’s brother, after an errand for a friend turned into a fortuitous encounter.
Bud Goins graduated from Paris High School in 1954, promptly enlisting in the U.S. Navy before settling near San Francisco and beginning a 40-year career in education. In 1962, a friend of Goins’ asked him to transport some golf clubs to a home in Atherton, Cal. Goins’ friend happened to be the brother of a catcher for the recently formed New York Mets. And the drop-off point for Goins’ cargo? The home of Willie Mays.
After exchanging pleasantries, both golf enthusiasts quickly struck up a conversation.
“We just got to talking about golf. Willie always loved the game and he could play. Still can. We liked each other instantly. Next thing you know, we’re teeing it up and having fun,” Bud Goins said in a 1999 interview.
It was only a matter of time before the pair hit the fairway together. Golf, second only to baseball, was a favorite pastime of Mays. While the duo’s friendship started on the golf course, it did not remain there long.
Mays brought Goins along with him to spring training, All-Star games, award ceremonies, celebrity golf outings and more. During their escapades, Goins met the likes of Sammy Davis Jr., Hank Aaron, Leo Durocher and other larger-than-life icons of entertainment, professional sports and more. Mays and Goins even encountered “a bright, young Senator with an unusual name: Barack Obama.”
Shortly after being traded to the Mets, Mays entrusted his companion with the task of driving his new pink Cadillac back to San Francisco. Goins faithfully fulfilled his duty, but not before stopping in Paris to show off his new wheels to his family. Bob Goins remembers being shocked that the vehicle was equipped with a phone.
Bud Goins and Mays even became teammates, not on the baseball field, but on the green. The pair competed in the 1986 Cooperstown Baseball Hall of Fame golf tournament in Cooperstown, N.Y., where they snagged several trophies. Goins sliced a ball that, by some miracle, dodged several trees and ended up in the middle of the fairway. Goins’ hit turned out to be the longest drive of the tournament.
“They called me a ‘ringer.’ Willie said I’d probably be banned from future tournaments there,” Goins recalled in his interview.
The experiences shared between them deepened their camaraderie.
“I’ve been to lots of places, met many famous people, thanks to Willie. He’s always been like an older brother to me,” Bud Goins explained.
Their bond continued to grow as time passed, with Goins standing at Mays’ side as his best man during the baseball star’s wedding in Mexico City. Goins’ friendship with Mays was unique.
“(Willie) was Bud’s oldest friend. He thought the world of him… they just had that kind of relationship, that friendship, where (you say) ‘I can trust you,’” Bob Goins recalled. “Willie didn’t have a lot of people that he could say ‘I can trust you.’”
Mays also developed tight bonds with Bud Goins’ mother as well as his wife, Jessie.
For the younger Bob Goins, encounters with Willie Mays happened fairly often, but never lost their magic. A 10-year-old Goins first met his childhood hero at a game in Cincinnati, heading straight to the hotel where Mays was lodged prior to the game.
“First we went to the hotel, and we’re all standing around waiting and stuff… So the elevator door opens and here comes Willie… and he walks right past everybody, right up to us and shakes my hand,” Bob Goins said.
“Willie had always been super nice to me, and I was still in awe every time I met him,” he continued. “My mouth was open like, ‘Oh my god, that’s Willie…’ That’s what made me a baseball fan – knowing him.”
Mays’ warmth and kindness were immediately apparent to Bud, Bob and the rest of the Goins family, so much so that he essentially became one of their own kin.
“He considered my brother as his younger brother… Willie considered my brother his best friend,” said Bob. “He was just family, and Bud’s two children, they called Willie ‘Uncle Willie.’”
Love is often proven in the face of illness and death – a truth displayed in the lives of Willie Mays and Bud Goins.
As both aged and Mays began to face health issues, Goins was faithful, never leaving his side.
“When Willie got sick, Bud was at the hospital every day,” Bob Goins recalled. “He stayed with him every day… who does that if you’re not a really close friend – who does that? Well, Bud did, and that was his nature.”
Sadly, the two were separated Sept. 12, 2013, when Bud Goins passed away eight days shy of his 78th birthday.
A small graveside ceremony was held, but Goins’ wife Jessie recommended Mays stay home to avoid drawing the unwanted attention of fans or the press on such a somber occasion.
Still, Mays sent a letter to Jessie Goins and the rest of the family, the contents of which have remained private until now.
Bob Goins shared his framed copy of the letter with The Prairie Press during a recent interview.
“Nobody has ever seen this, other than somebody who’s been in my home,” he said.
The letter, graced by the Hall of Famer’s trademark signature, recalls memories shared with Bud. Mays draws parallels between Bud’s commitment on the golf course and his steadfast friendship, especially in times of need.
“Bud just did what he thought was the right thing to do. He knew how to be a friend,” Mays wrote later adding, “What can I say about my Bud? Well, he was straight and true, an authentic personality with no suprises. He was smart and earnest. He knew what he needed to do to get where he wanted to go. He was a good companion. He hit his life true and straight. And, like in his golf game, he was pretty good at it.”
The letter concludes with a bittersweet goodbye.
“To his family, I say I am sorry that you have lost him. But, I also say thank you for sharing him with me. My Bud,” Mays writes.
Bob Goins explained it felt proper to share the letter with the community his family called home during his childhood.
“I thought that was a good thing for Paris,” he said. “Not New York or anybody else. This little town here deserves something from one of the greatest.”
Willie Howard Mays Jr.
BUD
His nickname says it best; Louis Goins was my friend, my buddy, my Bud. Golf brought us together and golf is how we got to know one another. When you spend four hours or more walking and playing a golf course, you learn a lot about a person. You watch them play and you catch on to their abilities first; can they hit the long ball? Does it travel true? Straight? Then you learn about their discipline and nerve. Are they easily frustrated? Flustered? How do they handle themselves? How well do they know the rules? Do they respect them? How is their attitude? How do they meet a bad lie? Do they get angry? Are they helpful? Creative? Instructive? Are they good company? Can they win? How much does that mean to them?
I think golfers spend more time with their buddies than they do with their spouses! Golfers become close because they witness each other in adversity and in triumph. You can't hide much on a golf course. And you've got to take responsibility for your own actions. If you hit that slice into the brush, then you'd better hike out into the weeds and start searching for your ball and planning your next shot.
They say there's no crying in baseball. True. In golf, there's no crying, no blaming on someone else, and no pinch-hitters. You do it all yourself – no teammates, no coaches, no trainers – just you and that little white ball. And your buddy tromping along beside you.
Bud was a good golfer. He could play. One year we entered the Hall of Fame Golf Tournament in Cooperstown. The awards ceremony was inside the Otesaga Hotel at an evening dinner back then. Everyone came, even the non-golfers. I always liked to sit in the back of the room. When we won in one of the first categories, instead of walking from the back to the front and back again, I sent Bud up to collect the trophy. Well, we won closest to the hole, the longest drive, and the whole thing – first place! By the end of the presentation ceremony, the whole room was buzzing about the "ringer" that I had brought in from the Bay Area!! Bud must have tromped up and down that aisle 5 or 6 times, but he stayed humble.
We had a lot of adventures, Bud and me – not all of them involving golf. Bud was the best man at Mae's and my wedding. Now that’s a story I will let Jessie tell!! Nobody would get up on less than one day's notice, travel to Mexico City to be part of a wedding, and keep up a good attitude about the whole adventure. But, Bud did! And Jessie did too!
Twice, years apart, when I had health issues to deal with, Bud showed up to help. Once I had to stay in the hospital for over two weeks. Bud came by every day. Another time, I had to go daily for a treatment that lasted 8 weeks. Bud showed up again, every time. Friends like that are rare. Bud just did what he thought was the right thing to do. He knew how to be a friend.
I could tell you endless stories. Most recently, Bud would travel with me to various places for a
contract I had with an insurance company. We traveled to Alabama, Tennessee, Texas, Illinois, and Mississippi. We once rode almost 300 miles over bumpy roads, after Hurricane Katrina, from Louisiana to Alabama in a stretch limousine that had the shock absorbers of a riding lawn mower – that is: NONE! Poor Bud's back almost gave out on that trip! In Chicago, on another trip, we met a bright, young Senator with an unusual name: Barack Obama.
So, what can I say about my Bud? Well, he was straight and true, an authentic personality with no surprises. He was smart and earnest. He knew what he needed to do to get where he wanted to go. He was a good companion. He hit his life true and straight. And, like his golf game, he was pretty good at it.
To his family, I say I am sorry that you have lost him. But, I also say thank you for sharing him with me. My Bud.
So long, pall!
Your friend,
Willie Mays