Willie Had It--So Did Klu, Arnie, Joe and, Yes, Flamingo

Willie Mays was the first athlete I remember seeing who had a distinctive style.

Willie would always lose his hat sprinting after fly balls, creating the illusion that he was breaking through some kind of sonic speed warp. And Mays had the basket catch, which was a pretty amazing thing, when you think about it.

Here was a young, frightened, Southern black kid breaking into the barely integrated big leagues, in New York City, catching fly balls with his hands down at his belt buckle.

Even now, 34 years later, the basket catch is considered too daring, risky and showboatish to be allowed in the game.

But it was part of Mays’ style.

I thought of Mays a couple of weeks ago when I heard that Dodger pitcher Tom (The Flamingo) Brennan got shipped to Albuquerque. Brennan is the wandering journeyman who pitched his way onto the Dodger staff this spring, then proceeded to pitch his way off.

The Flamingo couldn’t get anybody out, but he did have style. He not only knew about things like opera and literature, which set him apart right away, but he also had an unusual hesitation in his pitching delivery. Thus the nickname.

It’s too bad the Flamingo didn’t stick around, because almost any baseball clubhouse can use a little culture and because there aren’t many athletes around nowadays with real style.

What is style? It’s different from a gimmick. A gimmick is Jerry Pate jumping into a lake to celebrate winning a golf tournament.

Style is Champagne Tony Lema sending a case of expensive bubbly to the press tent after winning a big tournament.

Lema’s gesture was so out of character with the relationship between athletes and writers that it bordered on science fiction. And he could have sent beer, but Tony had style. He must have known instinctively that Champagne Tony had a better ring than Six-Pack Tony.

Style can be an attitude, a mannerism, an aura. It’s something kids copy the next day on the playgrounds, and adults talk about around the water cooler.

A gimmick is Mark Gastineau sack-dancing.

Style is Joe Namath striding onto a football field in white shoes. Cool, cocky, different. You think the “Miami Vice” TV show dudes are cool, you should have seen Broadway Joe.

A gimmick is Payne Stewart wearing knickers on the golf course. Style is Arnie Palmer hitching up his baggy pants as he brings a course to its knees.

Style is Muhammad Ali making up poems. Then, in the ring, dropping his arms straight down to his sides and leaning back just out of reach of deadly punches.

Baseball history is rich with players who had style. Like Dick Stuart, who hit 66 home runs at Lincoln, Neb., in 1956, and painted a huge “66” on the sides of his luggage. Or Vic Power, the flashy Cleveland first baseman who pioneered the one-handed snatch. Hotdoggish, but stylish.

Style is Ted (Big Klu) Kluszewski, the Reds’ slugging first baseman (also Pirates, White Sox and Angels) who was so proud of his huge arms that he cut the sleeves off his uniforms. Who remembers that Big Klu hit 279 homers while striking out only 365 times? What you remember are the arms.

A lot of pitchers had style. Luis Tiant would turn his back flush to the hitter during his windup, then whirl back and deliver the ball from one of about a dozen different angles.

Style is Mark Fidrych down on his hands and knees rearranging the mound, then talking to the baseball, then mowing down hitters.

Although a lot of hotdogs had style, style isn’t synonymous with hotdogging. Nobody ever hot-dogged less than Joe DiMaggio, or had more style. His style was consummate grace, combined with the regal bearing of a king.

In basketball, style is Elgin Baylor’s nervous head tick and high-pounding dribble. You could go to any playground in Los Angeles in the 60s and see kids doing their Baylor impersonations.

Or they would be doing their Dick (Fall Back Baby) Barnett jump-shot imitations, feet kicked up high and shooting arm (left) cocked above the head. Or they were wearing their Wilt Chamberlain headbands and firing up one-handed fallaways.

Who has style today? Who do the kids imitate and the older folks admire?

Reggie Jackson is one, although part of Reggie’s style is a cockiness that infuriates opposing fans. Nobody can stand at home plate and admire a home run like Reggie does.

Fernando has style, the way he glances to the sky during his delivery, and the way he quietly owns the mound.

Magic has style, of course. So does St. Louis shortstop Ozzie Smith. John McEnroe? You call that style? Great tennis, sure, but not style.

Mostly, it seems as if we’re suffering through a shortage these days, that there are too few athletes with true style. Unique is becoming extinct.

Hurry back, Flamingo.