Remembering Willie Mays: He was Steph Curry, Michael Jordan, Simone Biles and Mikhail Baryshnikov
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Tim Kurkjian, ESPN Senior Writer
Editor’s note: Willie Mays died Tuesday at age 93. This story was originally published in 2021 on his 90th birthday.
To appreciate Willie Mays is to remember him at 20. When he joined the New York Giants in 1951, the game had never seen an athlete like him — breathtakingly graceful, the greatest combination of power, speed and defense ever to wear a major league uniform. And 70 years later, to many, he remains precisely that.
“You’d sit on the bench and watch Willie Mays,” Hall of Famer Reggie Jackson said. “It was so exciting just to watch him. People did that with Jim Brown. They did that with the acrobatics and greatness of [Michael] Jordan. It’s like players today going to watch the pregame warm-ups of Steph Curry. To watch Willie warm up, to throw the ball underhand, to make a basket catch. The beauty and the grace. For the kids today, it was like watching Simone Biles. It was like watching [Mikhail] Baryshnikov. It was poetry in motion. It was so beautiful, so pretty, to watch this athlete just run on the field, catch a ball. I loved to play against Willie Mays because it meant that I got to watch Willie Mays.”
Mays was one of the three great center fielders in New York, joining the Yankees’ sensational Mickey Mantle and Dodgers Hall of Famer Duke Snider. But as Mantle once said, “Well, there were the two of us … and then there was Willie.”
Ken Griffey Jr. made it even simpler.
“I call him ‘The Godfather of Center Fielders,'” Junior said.
And what of those comparisons, that Griffey would be the next Mays?
“In baseball, comparisons are always made, but I didn’t compare myself to him,” Griffey said. “But I also didn’t not want to be compared to him, if that makes sense. You always want to be compared to the best.”
Lon Simmons, a Hall of Fame broadcaster who called Giants games all 14 years that Mays played in San Francisco once the team moved west in 1958, said, “Willie was so good, the fans expected a miracle from him every day. So he gave them a miracle every other day.”
Mays is generally considered not only the greatest center fielder of all time, but after Babe Ruth, the greatest player of all time. I once asked Doug Rader, a five-time Gold Glove third baseman for the Astros from 1967 to 1977 and a later a big league manager, who was the best player he had ever seen. Rader laughed.
“Bill Mays, who else?” he said.
Hall of Famer Juan Marichal agreed.
“Willie was the best, No. 1 all time … and I know,” Marichal said. “I was there for a lot of Willie.”
Who else? Willie Mays was that good.
“He was magical,” Hall of Fame catcher Johnny Bench said. “He was perfect.”
“Best player I’ve ever seen,” said Tim McCarver, a former catcher who played in four decades and later became a Hall of Fame broadcaster. “He could do all the things that other guys couldn’t.”
“He was the first player to have genuine swag,” Astros manager Dusty Baker said.
There were five-tool players before Mays, but all of Mays’ tools were among the best in the game, like a lead singer who wrote the songs and could also play all the instruments better than anyone in the band. Mays’ 12 Gold Gloves are the most ever by a player in the 500-home run club. When he retired in 1973, he was third all time in homers after averaging 33 a year.
Indeed, he could play the piano and move it, too.
“He has all the same traits as Mike Trout,” Pete Rose said. “But [Trout] doesn’t have Willie’s flair.”
It almost wasn’t fair.
“Willie Mays was too good,” former teammate Felipe Alou said.
Jump to a section:
THE BAT | THE GLOVE | THE ARM | THE LEGS |
THE SAY HEY KID
The Bat
Mays hit 660 home runs, now sixth most of all time. He had 3,283 hits, 11th most ever. He won two MVPs, 11 years apart. He had a .302 average, an OPS over .900 for 13 straight years, an OPS over 1.000 in five seasons. He won a National League batting title and four home run titles. He played 14 years in Candlestick Park, a big ballpark with swirling winds; in another home ballpark, he might have hit 700 homers. If he hadn’t missed nearly two prime seasons to military service, he might have hit closer to 800. His swing was short and compact. He often stepped in the bucket, but could still cover the outside part of the plate.
Former manager Bobby Valentine
“It was a different sound off his bat. One day I got to the ballpark very early just to check out his bats. I went to the other dugout to see if they were different. They were heavy; they weren’t different. He was different.”
Pete Rose
“I felt sorry for Willie in a way having to play at that s—hole Candlestick. That was the worst place in the world to play baseball. It was always windy and cold. The sun was always in your eyes. There were 10,000, 12,000 people at every game. If he played today in the bandboxes in Cincinnati and Philadelphia and some other places, he’d hit 70 homers a year. He wasn’t just a power hitter. He was a good hitter. He loved to talk hitting. If he had hit behind me and [Joe] Morgan, he’d have driven in 500 or 600 more runs.”
Former manager and catcher Joe Torre
“Willie was a left-center, right-center hitter. The ballparks he played didn’t aid him. He hit 660 home runs, but he had to earn every one of them at home. The Polo Grounds was short down the lines, but in the gap, they were very deep. And he played at Candlestick. After noon, the ball would fly to right field, but you could shoot a bazooka off in left field some of those nights and the ball wouldn’t go anywhere.”
One night in Milwaukee in 1961, Mays hit four home runs in one game.
Simmons
“The wind knocked another one down. Otherwise, he would have had five.”
Torre
“Willie didn’t like to wait in the box. He wants you to throw the ball right now. There were times where I’d put a sign down, but I wouldn’t put anything down. And Willie would talk to you. He’d say, ‘I know what you’re doing. I know what you’re doing.’ It was impossible not to love him even though he scared you to death because he was so good. One time, I tried to distract him by talking to him. I asked him a question at the plate, I don’t remember what it was about, maybe about a restaurant, and while answering the question, he hit the ball out of the ballpark. Then he sort of made a half turn to me as he started to first base and told me, ‘I’ll finish the story later.'”
Bench
“Willie would come to the plate and he was swinging his bat back and forth as only Willie could. And every time he swung this way, he’d go back this way [toward the catcher], he would be looking for the sign. There was no one doing the drums or banging trash cans back then. But Peanuts Lowrey [the Giants first-base coach] was telling him what pitch was coming. So I’m squatting back there, and Willie steps out of the box, looks at me and says, ‘Are you going to call a signal or what?’ And I said, ‘As soon as you stop looking back here.’ And he laughed and said, ‘Oh, you got me! Oh, you got me!'”
Most of that power came from Mays’ legendarily strong hands.
Baker
“I once went up to him behind the batting cage as a rookie. I asked him, ‘Why do you play me right behind second base? I’ll hit that ball over your head.’ Willie said, ‘Boy, because you choke up on the bat. You ain’t strong enough to hit that ball over my head. That’s why I play you right behind second base.’ Then he showed me his hands. The muscle between his thumb and his forefinger looked like a golf ball in there. He said, ‘Boy, let me see your hands.’ I had nothing. He said, ‘That’s why I play you behind second base.’ So I immediately went to squeezing hand grips to get that muscle in there.”
Valentine
“When you shook Willie’s hand, you were shaking a hand — a man’s hand. It’s him, Rico Carty and Hank [Aaron]. Willie’s hand would engulf your hand. It gulped it up.”
Duane Kuiper, former major league and Giants broadcaster
“The truth is that those guys who played in the ’60s all had huge, strong hands — Mays, Aaron, [Willie] McCovey, [Frank] Robinson, [Orlando] Cepeda. They were all like dairy farmers who milked cows by hand. With those guys, you had to get your hand in there first or they’d crush it. My dad always told me, ‘You have to win the handshake.’ But with Willie, you couldn’t.”
Bench (who has his own enormous hands)
“Willie’s hands are so thick. When we played golf, we both had the oversized grips. He’d come over, grab my clubs and say, ‘These feel good.'”
Rose
“Willie also had giant forearms. Look, I’m as big as Willie Mays [both around 5-11 and 170-190 pounds]. And he hit 660 homers and I had 160.”
The Glove
Mays won 12 Gold Gloves. Consider this, though: They didn’t begin being awarded until 1957; he could have won 16. He had tremendous speed, incredible range and got as good a jump on the ball as anyone ever.
Former Giants pitcher Steve Stone
“He was the best center fielder in the game when he was 39 years old. It’s truly amazing how long he was able to maintain his skills.”
Mays’ signature was the famous basket catch: Instead of catching the ball in front of his face as did and does every other outfielder, Mays would often nonchalantly catch it at his hip.
Bench
“And he never missed one. He was so effortless. Back then, you wanted to put mustard on him. But that was just his natural ability and the grace he had in performing. Almost every game it seems like he made an amazing play. You could have two had outfielders, put the other in the infield, because Willie covered it all.”
McCarver
“[Cardinals teammate] Curt Flood was the best I’ve ever seen against the wall. He was better than Willie against the wall. But Curt played deep. Willie didn’t play deep; he played shallow. Willie never went to the wall. Willie was the wall.”
Alou (who played left or right field next to Mays for six years)
“I found myself at times watching the game like a fan would watch a game. A ball would be hit and I would say, like a fan or a broadcaster, ‘Is he really going to catch this one?’ He had an amazing first step. He was covering half of the field by himself.”
Baker
“Chris Speier [who was a rookie with the Giants in 1971] told me stories that Willie was calling pitches from center field for the pitcher to throw a certain hitter. He and Hank Aaron, in those days, they didn’t have scouting reports. They could tell where a guy was going to hit the ball by his hand position: If his hands were outside the zone, he was going to pull the ball. If his hands were in tight, he was going to try to inside-out the ball to the opposite field. Those guys studied all the hitters back then. They didn’t need a scout.”
Hall of Famer Tony Perez
“The best play I ever saw him make was the ball that Vada Pinson hit to right-center field at Candlestick. Willie ran the ball down, collided with [right fielder Bobby] Bonds and caught the ball. I don’t know how Willie caught it.”
Mays
“Leon [Wagner] could hit, but you never knew where he might catch the ball. So one day, there’s a high fly ball. I go after it. I think Leon is going to catch it, but he’s just standing there like this [hands at his side]. So I jumped, I put my foot right in his belt buckle. I caught the ball and came down on him. I thought, ‘Oh no, I cut him.’ I went to him and said, ‘Leon, pull up your shirt. Let me see where I cut you.’ There were no marks. I don’t know how. I hit him with my spikes in his belt buckle. No one is going to believe that catch.”
Mays made perhaps the greatest defensive play — and the most famous — in World Series history when he robbed the Indians’ Vic Wertz with a running catch in deep center field in 1954.
Hall of Famer Bob Feller
“That really wasn’t that great of a catch. As soon as it was hit, everyone on our bench knew that he was going to catch it … because he is Willie Mays.”
Jackson
“I have the last glove that Willie Mays wore. It says 1954 World Champions on it. I bought it.” For how much? “Let’s just say, if I sold it, it would take between $200,000-$250,000. I bought it because no one used a glove better than Willie Mays.”
The Arm
Mays had a tremendously strong and accurate arm, which is critical for a center fielder. A throw to the plate has to have enough carry to get it over the mound.
Bench
“You already knew there were guys that you never, ever ran on. You had respect for those guys. Willie charged the ball as well as anyone who ever played baseball. He was able to judge the speed of the ball so well so he could scoop and throw.”
McCarver
“Johnny Keane [the Cardinals manager from 1961 to 1964] told us in meetings, ‘Don’t run on Willie, he will throw you out. He’s baiting you. He wants you to think he can’t, and then he does.’ Willie figured it out. Willie always figured everything out.”
Mays
“They [people in baseball] told me, ‘You can’t do round-robin.’ That’s throwing out a runner at first base, second base, third base and home in the same game. I said, ‘I can do that. What are you talking about?’ So, we’re at Dodger Stadium, [Don] Drysdale hits the ball over the middle for a base hit. I watched him, he put his head down and started walking to first. I thought, ‘I got him.’ So I threw him out at first. He cussed me something fierce. The next inning, Maury Wills went to third, he tried to score on a fly ball, and I threw Maury out at home. The next inning, Willie Davis tried to go from first to third. I threw him out at third. Jim Lefebvre hits a ball in the gap. I had him out by five feet at second base, [Giants second baseman] Tito [Fuentes] had him, but he didn’t squeeze the ball. Tito was crying at second base. He knew what I was trying to do. So I had to call time. I go in and told Tito, ‘Don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world.’ He said, ‘Yes, it is. I know round-robin was right there in your grasp.’ I told him, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it the next time.’ But, I never came close … but I would have had it that day.”
Hall of Famer and former Mays teammate Orlando Cepeda
“Ave Maria! I never saw anyone go from first to third on Willie’s arm. Felipe Alou was a great right fielder, but Willie once told Felipe on a fly ball hit by Willie Kirkland to right center, ‘Let me take it, let me take it.’ So Willie caught the ball at the 390-foot sign in right-center field, and he threw a low throw, on the line, in the air, all the way to third base. Willie had the greatest throwing arm I’ve ever seen, even better than [Roberto] Clemente’s arm.”
Marichal
“Before every game that me [or] Gaylord [Perry] pitched, we’d have a meeting about how we were going to pitch the other team that night. It was always a three-man meeting. Me, the catcher and Willie Mays. He used to help us on how to pitch all the hitters on the other team. Willie knew exactly what to do with each hitter.”
The Legs
It wasn’t just the stolen bases that separated Mays from other players, especially other power hitters. It was his innate feel for baserunning, going first to third, scoring from second on a single, legging out one of the 140 triples he hit, including a league-best 20 in 1957.
Perez
“He was one of the greatest. He would go from first base to third on a ball to right center. He didn’t even have to look at the third-base coach. He was his own coach.”
McCarver
“He was a terror on the bases.”
Alou
“I was always told that Jackie Robinson was the only baserunner better than Willie, but I used to wonder, ‘How can you be a better runner than Willie Mays?’ I saw him score standing up at least 10 times on a wild pitch that wasn’t 10 feet from home plate.”
Hall of Famer Willie McCovey (who usually hit behind Mays in the lineup)
“Willie would start to run to second on the wild pitch or a passed ball, then go back to first because he knew they’d walk me with first base open. Oh, Willie saw it all.”
Rose
“Willie had great instincts on the bases and he was always aggressive. I was an aggressive baserunner also. I developed my baserunning skills watching Willie Mays play.”
Bench
“Willie was hitting 50 homers so you can’t afford to have him running and getting hurt all the time. You can say 29th [all time in steals when he retired], but he could have easily moved into the top 10. And on a single, it would have been strange if he didn’t go first to third. He had one of the best turns rounding second or third you could possibly have. With his agility, he made the most perfect turns.”
Jackson
“After I retired, I took Willie to the eye doctor several times. He had early glaucoma. One day, we’re driving and I asked him about [Jose] Canseco going 40-40 [homers and stolen bases in one season]. I said to Willie, ‘What do you think of those guys going 40-40? You did 30-30 a couple of times.’ Willie said, ‘Oh, hell, 40-40, that’s nothing. I could have done 50-50 any time. I wanted to steal my bases when it mattered, for the team.'”
Cepeda
“The greatest baserunner I’ve ever seen. He made triples look easy. I used to hit behind Willie in the order. When he was on base, I would watch him run. I tried to mimic him, to do what he did on the bases. But I couldn’t. No one could.”
Baker
“I thought I had a pretty good arm. I thought I was going to throw Willie out at third base one day. I had him out. He ran right in the way of the ball, it hit him in the shoulder. I got an error, and he scored. I swear to God, he looked back, he saw where the throw was, he just ran right into the path of the ball. I told the umpire, ‘He can’t do that!'”
The Say Hey Kid
Willie Mays is a character. He is supremely confident, even arrogant at times, but also self-deprecating and playful, always up for a laugh. And his laugh, that wonderful laugh, that high-pitched voice that didn’t fit his physique or mystique. He was so revered by teammates, but also by opponents. So much so that Dodgers manager Walter Alston, more than once, while managing the NL All-Star team, had Mays make out the starting lineup.
Mays
“Walter told me, ‘Willie, you know these guys better than I do, you make the batting order.’ So I hit myself leadoff, Roberto [Clemente] hit second and Hank [Aaron] third. I figured I’d get on, Roberto would get me over and Hank would get me in.”
Griffey Jr.
“The first time I met him I was 17, playing in the Instructional League. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I was told, ‘Willie Mays wants to meet you.’ I was like, ‘Oh, s—.’ So I started talking to him. I missed the first two innings of the Instructional League game because I was talking to Willie Mays. But my manager didn’t care. He said, ‘He’s going to learn more talking to Willie Mays than he’s going to learn playing in his damn game today. Let him talk as long as he likes.” And what did Mays tell Griffey that day that Griffey will never forget? “He said, ‘You’re going to be good. You’re going to be real good.’ … He is such a caring person. He told me, at age 17, to call him if I needed anything. He didn’t have to do that. But I would have my dad call him first. I couldn’t just call Willie Mays.”
Torre
“[First baseman] Bill White was playing for the Cardinals. He and Gibby [Hall of Fame pitcher Bob Gibson] went to San Francisco in the offseason. Bill was invited to Willie’s house for dinner, and he asked Gibby if he wanted to go. Bob said, ‘I’d love to go, I’ve never met Willie Mays.’ They ring the doorbell. Willie comes to the door. In the offseason, Gibby always wore glasses, but he didn’t wear them when he pitched. So Willie opens the door, he says hello to Bill, then he says, ‘Who is this?’ Bill said, ‘Willie, this is Bob Gibson.’ Willie didn’t say hello to him, all he said was, ‘You wear glasses!? And you don’t wear them when you pitch? Are you crazy? You’re going to hurt somebody!'”
Mays wasn’t good to only the stars.
Marichal
“The first time I met Willie was the day I was called up to the big leagues for the first time, July 10, 1960. Willie was so good to me, but he was so good to everyone. He took me out to dinner, but he took everyone out to dinner. He used to take teammates to a clothing store. And we’d all come home with a suit, shirts, a coat, slacks, shoes. Willie was a great teammate.”
Baker
“He was great to all us young guys, guys of all colors. Willie gave me my first McGregor glove, back when gloves were made out of kangaroos. That’s outlawed now.”
Bench
“The most special moment of all for me was the 1968 All-Star Game at the Astrodome. I am sitting at my locker, straight across from Willie. And I am not moving. I am 20 years old. I don’t want to [accidentally spike] anyone; I don’t want to act like I belonged there. Willie walked across from his locker to mine and says, ‘You should have been the starting catcher.’ That was it. That was all I needed. The validation. The validation I got from Willie. It was an honor to be around him. The joy he brought. He was the guy you emulated in every way. He was everything that baseball should be … the Say Hey Kid, man.”
Griffey Jr.
“I once went past [the visiting clubhouse manager’s office at AT&T Park] and Willie was sitting in there with Willie McCovey. I just tried to slide by, and Willie [Mays] came out and said, ‘Hold up, hold up. Come in here. You got enough home runs to be in this room.’ That made me feel important.”
Rose
“My first All-Star Game was in 1965, and my locker was in between Willie Mays and Hank Aaron. And I thought, ‘What the hell am I doing here sitting between these guys?’ Willie went out of his way to make me feel a part of the team. I never forgot that.”
Mays is a great storyteller.
Mays (on facing Satchel Paige for the first time in 1949)
“Satch would pitch to anyone that would pay him. I hit a double off the wall against him. The guy behind me, Jimmy Zapp, hit a home run. So later in the game, Satch told his third baseman, ‘Let me know when that little boy come back up.’ I thought he was talking about somebody else. So, in the third, I heard the third baseman say, ‘There he is.’ I didn’t know who they were talking about. The catcher said, ‘They’re talking about you.’ I said, ‘No way.’ So Satch walked halfway to home plate and said, ‘Little boy,’ and I said, ‘Yes sir.’ Satch was much older than I was. Satch said, ‘Little boy, I’m not going to trick you, I’m going three fastballs, then you’re going to go sit down.’ I said, No one way could he throw the same pitch three times and I don’t hit it. He threw me the three damnedest fastballs. I didn’t come close to hitting it. He said, ‘Little boy, now you can go sit down.'”
McCarver
“I wrote in my book that Willie had the thickest fingers I have ever seen, and that he buffed his fingernails every day. Every day. He came up to me and said, in that high-pitched voice, ‘I heard that you said that I buffed my nails every day. You’re right, I do!'”
Griffey Jr.
“I think it was during spring training [with the Reds], I was invited to dinner at the governor’s house [in Florida]. Jeb Bush was the governor. I was going to fly down there, but my manager [Bob Boone] told me, ‘Ah, I don’t think I can let you go.’ I told him, ‘But Willie Mays invited me.’ [Boone] immediately said, ‘Oh OK, go ahead.’ That’s how important Willie Mays is.”
Jackson
“The first time I heard of Willie Mays was the Vic Wertz catch, 1954, I was 8. We had a black-and-white TV. You had to put a quarter in the TV to watch it for an hour. That’s how you paid for it. As I grew up, I was a Willie Mays fan, but you had to be a Dodger fan if you were Black because of Jackie [Robinson] and Roy [Campanella] and Newk [Don Newcomb] and Junior Gilliam. But when Willie came to town, I begged my dad to take me to the game. After the game, my dad took me down to where the players’ bus was. I crawled on the ground, I crawled through people’s legs, and I watched Willie get on the bus. That was such a wonderful experience for me.”
Hall of Fame pitcher Jim Palmer
“The first time I ever met him was in January 1969 at a golf event. His partner in the tournament was Joe Namath, who slept in on the day of the tournament and didn’t show up on the first tee. So Willie didn’t play. Willie and I were in the Long Drive Contest together. Here I am, this skinny pitcher, and here’s Willie Mays, so strong. So I won the Long Drive Contest. Willie, in that high-pitched voice, told me, ‘There’s no way you can outdrive me. Your ball hit the sprinkler head.’ I said, ‘Well, all I know is that my drive went 310 and yours went only 290.’ Willie just laughed.”
Perez
“One day at Candlestick, Jim Maloney was pitching for us [the Reds]. He threw really hard. Really hard. He also liked to mess around, to have fun, with players on the field. So Willie got in the box and Maloney went to his mouth like he was going to throw a spitball. Instead he threw a fastball right down the middle. Willie took it. He ended up walking. When he got to first, I told him, ‘You know, Maloney is crazy.’ And Willie laughed said, ‘I know. He’s crazy. He’s pretending to throw a spitball. He doesn’t need it. He’s going to kill someone with that. But it’s not going to be me because I won’t be in there!'”
Torre
“A friend of mine, Dave, he lives in Hawaii. He’s from the Bay Area, he’s a big Giants fan, a big Willie fan. And his birthday is the same day as Willie — May 6. So two or three years ago, I said, ‘I’ll let you know when I’ll be in San Francisco and we’ll watch a game together.’ Unbeknownst to Dave, I arranged for Willie to be at the ballpark. I pulled Willie out of the stands. He talked to Dave for an hour. Willie couldn’t do enough for him. He signed anything. He took pictures with him. The capper for me was Willie says, ‘What else do you need?’ So Willie called Mike Murphy, the clubhouse guy for the Giants, and says, ‘Murph, get me a shirt.’ Willie took the shirt off his back, signed it and gave it to Dave. He literally gave him the shirt off his back. Dave has never stopped talking about it obviously. He tries to buy me breakfast, lunch and dinner every time I see him.”
Palmer
“The first batter I faced in my first All-Star Game [1970] was Willie Mays … the guy I watched growing up in New York and California. I mean, really, Willie Mays. And I struck him out on three high fastballs. I saw him at the Hall of Fame years later and he told me, ‘I was told you were wild. I was told you were a kind of a headhunter.’ I wasn’t wild or a headhunter, but the first time I faced Willie was such a thrill.”
Alou
“That was the thing about Willie. No matter where he was playing, he always played with passion, whether for the Giants, or a barnstorming game, or spring training or playing stickball in the streets of New York with kids. His concentration was like no one I had ever seen. And he loved me for some reason. He called me Chico because it was hard for him to say Felipe. Sometimes he called me Phillip. But even today, if we’re near each other, he hears my voice from another room, he recognizes me and says, ‘Hey, it’s Chico!'”
Kuiper
“Willie filled in and did the color commentary a few times many years ago before Mike [Krukow, Kuiper’s current broadcast partner on Giants games] started doing games. So I’m the play-by-play guy. It’s Easter Sunday. Robby Thompson strikes out on a check swing with the tying run at third to end the game. So, on Easter Sunday, Willie says, on the air, ‘Jesus Christ!’ I looked at him. I have to talk because I’m the play-by-play guy, and all I could say was, ‘We’ll be back with Reverend Willie Mays, right after this.'”
Bench
“The first time we played against him, the first time he came to the plate, he said, ‘Hey, how are you, kid?’ He loves to tell the story about how he was on second base and he says, ‘Man, they [the Reds] got this hotshot catcher, I hope we get a base hit because I’m going to knock his ass into the dugout.’ Then he said, ‘We got a base hit, I come around, and … have you slid into a tree? I went backwards. I went back backwards.’ I can’t tell what he said after that, but it was like, ‘Get this off me, you broke my blanking leg.'”
Jackson
“The first time I met Willie Mays was my rookie year in spring training playing for the A’s in 1969. Willie came over to the A’s bench and said, ‘Where’s Reggie Jackson? Who’s this kid Reggie Jackson? I want to see Reggie Jackson.’ I met him. That was a huge, huge deal for me, for him to come over to our dugout and ask for me. I got to shake his hand. So Catfish Hunter and Sal Bando told me, ‘Reggie, do your Willie. Do your Willie.’ I could run like him. I could do that pigeon-toed walk that he had. He cracked up laughing. Willie had his glove tucked under his arm. I said, ‘What’s this thing on your glove? Buck?’ He said, ‘That’s my nickname.’ I said, ‘That’s really cool.’ After that, Catfish and Bando and [Rollie] Fingers and [Joe] Rudi always called me Buck ever since then.”
Valentine
“[As the manager of the Rangers], I had to go to tell Willie at an Old-Timers’ Game that Joe [DiMaggio] would not come out on the field unless he came out last and was introduced as the greatest living player. So Bobby Bragan made me tell Willie, Mickey [Mantle] and the Duke [Snider], one by one, that Joe would have to come out last. Willie, with that high-pitched voice, said, ‘Well, Joe actually thinks he is the greatest living player. So maybe we should let him.’ I told Willie, ‘I am so happy that you said that.'”
Palmer
“One time at the Hall of Fame, after the induction ceremony, we all went back to the hotel for hors d’oeuvres. At our table was Yogi [Berra], Whitey [Ford], Duke [Snider], Tommy Lasorda, Willie Mays and me. Now that’s a table. So Lasorda asks Yogi what he wants to put on his tombstone. Yogi said, ‘Oh, that’s easy: It’s over.’ You know, it’s never over until it’s over. Willie cackled. Willie has a great laugh.”
Valentine
“In 2000 [during the playoffs], Willie was holding court in the Giants’ clubhouse. I asked Murph [Mike Murphy, the Giants’ home clubhouse manager] if he could bring Willie over to talk to my guys. So, Willie comes over and talks to my players. Incredibly, some of them didn’t know who he was. This was 2000! That was worse than disgraceful.”
Rose
“They didn’t know who Willie Mays is? Do they know who God is?”
Griffey Jr.
“I have a jersey signed by Willie. It says: ‘From One Kid To Another Kid. The Say Hey Kid.’ That is prominently displayed in my man cave at home. People come in and look at it and say, ‘Is that him?’ I said, ‘Yes, that’s Willie Mays.'”
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Neil Paine
The NHL, especially in the salary cap era, is usually defined by change and upheaval — familiar contenders turning their rosters over, while new powers emerge in their place.
That’s why it was so striking to see the same two Stanley Cup finalists — the Florida Panthers and Edmonton Oilers — in back-to-back seasons, the league’s first Cup rematch since 2008-09, and only the second since 1983-84. Add in Florida’s appearance in the 2023 Final as well, and the NHL hasn’t had fewer unique finalists over a three-year span (just three different teams) since 1954-56, when only the Detroit Red Wings and Montreal Canadiens reached the Final in those three years.
This run of Panthers-Oilers dominance won’t last forever, and it almost certainly won’t survive past 2025-26 if Connor McDavid doesn’t re-sign with Edmonton after his current contract ends at the end of the year. But for now, ESPN BET’s preseason odds again list Florida (+300) as the East favorite and Edmonton (+400) as the West’s top pick, suggesting that another rematch is the likeliest outcome.
Of course, that’s only true until it’s not. So the question becomes: If it’s not Florida and Edmonton yet again, who’s next in line to face off for the Cup?
Let’s dive into the most plausible challengers from each conference, just waiting to skate through if the Panthers and/or Oilers slip up, plus a couple of up-and-coming teams who could crash the party as well.
Note: All odds below courtesy of ESPN BET
.
EASTERN CONFERENCE
Odds to make Final: +360 | Win Cup: +800
Why they haven’t broken through yet: It’s an excellent question that the Canes are still trying to answer. Despite making the postseason seven straight years, Carolina’s 44 playoff wins have never led to a Stanley Cup Final appearance — giving them the most victories amassed in such a stretch without getting there at least once, topping Toronto’s old record of 41 from 1998 to 2004.
Along the way, the team has made the Eastern Conference finals in two of the past three seasons, but couldn’t score enough to avoid a Florida sweep in 2023. And their goaltending, always a huge concern, couldn’t stop enough Panthers (most notably Sam Bennett) in 2025.
Why 2025-26 could be different: Carolina will once again ride with Pyotr Kochetkov and Frederik Andersen in net, which is reason enough to wonder if things will be different from last year (when they combined for a .823 SV% in the Eastern Conference finals loss to Florida). But new forward Nikolaj Ehlers ought to provide an offensive charge, while trade addition K’Andre Miller and prospect Alexander Nikishin give this blue line — usually a big strength anyway — more youth and upside, especially if Miller can recapture his 2022-23 form after a downturn in recent years.
Otherwise, the Hurricanes are counting on their familiar puck-possession system to finally add up to victory against a Florida core that returns mostly intact from last year. We’ll see.
Odds to make Final: +650 | Win Cup: +1400
Why they haven’t broken through (recently): Tampa Bay certainly has broken through before, winning two Cups — in 2020 and 2021 — and reaching another Final in 2022. And just when it seemed like that dynastic run was winding down, the Lightning rebounded in 2024-25, with their best goals per game differential since 2018-19 (+0.91).
But, as in the 2019 postseason, that regular-season success didn’t translate. The Lightning were bounced in the first round by Florida in five games for the second straight year, a huge reversal from the old days of Bolts domination in the cross-state rivalry.
Why 2025-26 could be different: First and foremost, the Lightning continue to boast one of the league’s most talented cores, which offers reason to think they can get back to seriously contending for the Cup again. They lost little of consequence over the offseason — defenseman Nick Perbix was the only real departure — though they also added little, and a team that was the NHL’s fifth oldest in 2024-25 isn’t getting any younger.
Someday Nikita Kucherov, Andrei Vasilevskiy, Victor Hedman and Jake Guentzel will slow down. But until then, this team still carries the potential to go toe-to-toe with Florida, even if the past two playoff results aren’t what Tampa Bay has experienced previously in that rivalry.
Odds to make Final: +850 | Win Cup: +1600
Why they haven’t broken through yet: So much depends on the availability of Jack Hughes. When Hughes last played more than 62 games in a season in 2022-23, the Devils ranked No. 4 leaguewide in goals per game; with him missing 20 games in each of the past two seasons, New Jersey’s ranking in that metric fell to 12th in 2023-24 and then 20th last season.
Along with that offensive slide, the team fell out of the playoffs in 2023-24 — costing coach Lindy Ruff his job — and lost in Round 1 to Carolina in five games a year ago, a disappointing end for a team that was third best in goal differential and third youngest (a promising combo!) back in 2022-23.
Why 2025-26 could be different: Hughes’ return to health at the start of 2025-26 camp has New Jersey eyeing a return to the potential of a few years earlier. The Devils have scored 3.13 GPG over the past two seasons with Hughes in the lineup, versus 2.93 without him, which would be the difference between 12th and 21st in the league in 2024-25.
To help them score even more, the Devils added Evgenii Dadonov this summer. Russian right wing Arseny Gritsyuk might be an interesting pickup as well. If they can resolve their contract impasse with Hughes’ brother Luke, the Devils could challenge for the East — but they’ll need to figure out how to solve a Carolina team that bounced them in 2023 and 2025.
Worth a flier?
Odds to make Final: +1200 | Win Cup: +3500
Ottawa finally broke its seven-year playoff drought in 2024-25 with a young core starring Brady Tkachuk, Tim Stützle, Jake Sanderson and Shane Pinto, who were all 25 or younger a year ago.
The Senators are still learning how to win, but they’ll return that same young core — plus good young defenseman Jordan Spence — to see if they can improve further after last season’s 19-point upgrade in the standings.
Odds to make Final: +2800 | Win Cup: +5000
The Habs have made real progress in recent seasons — three straight campaigns of an improved goals differential — culminating in their first playoff berth since 2021. Nick Suzuki‘s 89 points were the most by a Canadien in nearly three decades, and Cole Caufield‘s 37 goals were the most by a Montreal player his age since 1989-90.
With that young duo leading the way, and an upgraded roster that added defenseman Noah Dobson and forward Zack Bolduc, Montreal may finally be on the verge of something big.
The rest of the East
Toronto Maple Leafs (+1000 to make Stanley Cup Final)
Washington Capitals (+1400)
New York Rangers (+1600)
Boston Bruins (+3300)
Columbus Blue Jackets (+3300)
Detroit Red Wings (+3300)
Philadelphia Flyers (+3300)
New York Islanders (+4000)
Buffalo Sabres (+6000)
Pittsburgh Penguins (+6000)
WESTERN CONFERENCE
Odds to make Final: +450 | Win Cup: +800
Why they haven’t broken through (recently): The Avs had one of the best teams in hockey history when they won the Cup in 2022, seemingly portending a run of future success in the same style the team enjoyed during the ’90s and 2000s.
Instead, they fell victim to the familiar attrition that champions face during the salary cap era, between injuries (Gabriel Landeskog) and departures (Darcy Kuemper, Mikko Rantanen, Nazem Kadri, Andre Burakovsky). Colorado has remained among the league’s better teams, but its goal differential has declined for four seasons running now.
Why 2025-26 could be different: Nathan MacKinnon and Cale Makar aren’t slowing down. They’ve collectively posted 438 points over the past two seasons, the most in consecutive years by any forward/defenseman duo in more than three decades.
With that kind of talent at the core — bolstered with the return of trade deadline acquisition Brock Nelson and the veteran additions of Brent Burns and Victor Olofsson — the Avs may have another run in them despite losing to the Dallas Stars in consecutive postseasons.
Odds to make Final: +450 | Win Cup: +850
Why they haven’t broken through (recently): The Golden Knights were better on paper last regular season (+0.68 goal differential per game) than they were when they won the Cup — still the only team to beat Florida in its past 12 postseason series — in 2023 (+0.52).
But the playoff offense that once carried them has vanished, dropping from 4.00 goals per game in that Cup run to just 2.44 since, capped by back-to-back shutout losses to Edmonton in the second round last spring. The talent and depth have still been there, but the results have not quite followed.
Why 2025-26 could be different: The main reason for optimism in Vegas is that the Knights reeled in the biggest fish of the 2025 offseason, acquiring star winger Mitch Marner in a sign-and-trade from Toronto in late June. Marner has averaged 29 adjusted goals, 65 adjusted assists and 94 adjusted points per season since 2020-21, making him one of the most dangerous offensive threats (particularly among setup men) in the league.
While we’ve seen players take time to adjust to new systems and teammates, Marner will ease into his new situation alongside talents like Jack Eichel, which is a scary pairing to think about in the playoffs (where Marner’s struggles have tended to be overstated).
Odds to make Final: +475 | Win Cup: +1000
Why they haven’t broken through yet: Why, indeed? Much like Carolina, the Stars keep slamming into a wall just shy of the Cup Final: Dallas has piled up 29 playoff wins over the past three seasons — the most by a team in a three-year span without reaching the Final — and all it has yielded is back-to-back losses to Edmonton in the conference finals.
Some historic franchises with similar near misses eventually broke through, but the lingering question for the Stars is whether their current group can ever take the final step.
Why 2025-26 could be different: Mikko Rantanen will be with the team for an entire season, which can only help after the Finnish winger became the best player in NHL history to skate for three different teams in the same campaign (Avalanche, Hurricanes, Stars) a year ago.
Otherwise, the Stars also shuffled the deck a fair amount over the offseason, firing coach Pete DeBoer — bringing back former bench boss Glen Gulutzan — and undergoing the biggest net loss in goals above replacement of any team. That may not seem like cause for optimism at all, but the Panthers could tell you that sometimes a drastic shakeup in identity is exactly what a team needs to finally get over the hump.
Worth a flier?
Odds to make Final: +1000 | Win Cup: +2000
It might seem wild to think the Kings, of all teams, could dethrone the Oilers in the West — seeing as L.A. has now lost to Edmonton in four straight postseasons, becoming just the fourth team in any of the big four men’s leagues to drop four consecutive playoff matchups to the same opponent (without a head-to-head win preceding the streak).
However, the Kings remain intriguing for their mix of youth and experience. And not for nothing, their offseason additions included Corey Perry, whose team has made the Cup Final in five of the past six seasons.
Odds to make Final: +2000 | Win Cup: +4000
It isn’t very hard to get excited about the Mammoth as the next potential West contender. This was the league’s seventh-youngest roster a year ago — led by Clayton Keller, Mikhail Sergachev, Logan Cooley and Dylan Guenther, all 26 or younger — and the team improved its goal differential for the third consecutive season.
Adding to that foundation, Utah traded for talented forward JJ Peterka and signed veteran defenseman Nate Schmidt and forward Brandon Tanev during an offseason that was a net positive on talent added. Dating back to its Arizona days, this franchise has made the playoffs just once (2020) since 2012, but brighter days are on the horizon in Utah.
The rest of the West
Winnipeg Jets (+1200 to make Stanley Cup Final)
Minnesota Wild (+1700)
St. Louis Blues (+2200)
Vancouver Canucks (+3000)
Nashville Predators (+3300)
Calgary Flames (+4000)
Anaheim Ducks (+5000)
Seattle Kraken (+10000)
Chicago Blackhawks (+15000)
San Jose Sharks (+30000)
EUGENE, Or. — Inside the Marcus Mariota Performance Center, history dangles from wire hangers.
The glitz and glamour surrounding Oregon football is not immediately apparent. This is a practical place — a dimly lit, long hallway inside the second floor of the equipment room furnished with gray built-in closets — created not as a way to showcase, but rather to store the very thing that has become synonymous with the Ducks: their vast array of fabrics, colors and prints.
Among a sea of roughly 800 jerseys, there’s nearly every shade of green — from neon to emerald to forest to army. Here, black or white never look boring, and the yellow used over the years ranges from a Gatorade-colored hue to Cal gold. Splashes of pink, gray, brown, orange, chrome and blue complete the synthetic rainbow.
On this Saturday afternoon following Oregon’s win over Oklahoma State, football equipment administrator Kenny Farr thumbs through pages of dri-fit material and mesh as if flipping through a scrapbook. Every jersey has a story, every color and design a reason for existing at the time as well as an inevitable association that depends on something the style cannot control.
“Some of our best uniforms we’ve ever worn, we lost the games,” Farr said. “It’s hard to mention those, because they looked good, but we didn’t win the game. So it kind of goes down as a jersey I’ll try to forget about and move on to the next.”
Farr isn’t the man behind the jerseys, the designs or even the final decisions of what combinations make it out onto the field. But over the past 15 years, Farr has become a key cog in the enterprise that is Oregon’s uniforms. His role is part manager, part craftsman, part custodian and collector, as well.
“Kenny is the Godfather of Oregon football uniforms,” said Quinn Van Horne, one of the senior designers of Oregon’s latest generation of uniforms.
Throughout the past two and a half decades, as Oregon has cycled through nine different versions of its uniforms, nearly 50 iterations and countless more combinations, the fascination over its attire and the ripple effects it has caused inside and outside the program continue. While some teams have rarely wavered from their classic designs and colors over the years, the Ducks have pushed the envelope, creating a unique energy around their ensembles that attracts players and prompts other schools to try and emulate them.
“We don’t have the tradition that Ohio State or USC or Notre Dame or some of those blue bloods have,” Farr said. “So how do you counteract that? Well, you just go full steam ahead the other direction. Our tradition is to be untraditional; we’re going to always push the edge.”
BEFORE THERE WERE so many permutations of Oregon jerseys, before the well-oiled system that produces at least one new uniform every season and a brand-new set of designs every three years was set in place, the concept began with a simple question.
“How do you make a duck look cool?”
Rick Bakas was working for Nike in the mid-to-late ’90s under a subdivision called Team Sports, dedicated to apparel for professional and college teams.
Bakas, alongside a team of fellow designers who were overseen by Nike creative director — and father of Quinn — Todd Van Horne, had just redesigned the Denver Broncos’ uniforms. The success of that redesign, as well as the momentum Oregon created after its appearances in the 1995 Rose Bowl and the 1996 Cotton Bowl (the first game in which Oregon wore all Nike) led to founder Phil Knight and a cadre of Oregon alumni, including longtime Nike designer Tinker Hatfield, tasking Van Horne and his team with a mission: remake the Oregon Ducks.
As he did nearly every year, Bakas attended the Detroit Auto Show in search of inspiration. There, painted across the chassis of a concept car, Bakas found the key that unlocked everything: a type of paint called ChromaFlair, which gave off a sheen that changed colors.
“I was eating a sandwich out there by the lake, and I was feeding some bread to a mallard out there,” Bakas said. “I was looking at its head, and I was like, ‘That paint looks like this mallard’s head.'”
Bakas brought some of those green swatches of the ChromaFlair paint back to Oregon, took them into a studio and pulled out the darkest and the lightest possible versions; those became the core colors of the concept he and the team presented to Knight.
“It’s amazing how much that helped keep that futuristic feel as we got into the ‘O’ design,” Bakas said. “The project really gave us a chance to marry the two together where we could think about the entire head to toe, how everything was going to look.”
Van Horne believes that even though the color-changing helmets were one of the most important elements of the redesign, they wouldn’t have been complete without the iconic “O” — its inner outline shaped to replicate Hayward Field, Oregon’s track and field stadium, and the outer one mimicking the outline of Autzen Stadium.
The creator of that “O” logo remains in dispute — Van Horne credits Hatfield with the idea, while Bakas says it was his own — but there is no debate about its impact. When the Ducks walked out onto the field to open the 1999 season sporting new colors, with the brand-new “O” on their green ChromaFlair helmets, the paradigm of uniforms shifted.
“The players loved it,” Bakas said. “They were coming from yellow and green with a duck on loose-fitting jerseys. What we gave them was super futuristic, and they absolutely ate it up.”
FARR’S OFFICE PHONE had been ringing. Oregon had just lost 42-20 to Ohio State in the 2014 national championship while wearing a uniform combination that had not yet been featured that season — white jersey, black numbers and lettering, gray pants and a white helmet with silver wings.
“It looked great, but we didn’t win the game,” Farr said. “I had about 15 voicemails on my line the next morning, the next couple of days, of people blaming me, ‘We should have worn green! Why didn’t we wear green?’ And in my mind, I’m thinking, ‘We could have worn any color. I don’t know if we were going to tackle Ezekiel Elliot any better.'”
While it was head coach Mike Bellotti who welcomed the original redesign, it was not until the arrival of Chip Kelly in the late 2000s and through 2012 that Oregon’s sartorial flair truly matched its fast and furious style of play. More uniform combos and a 46-7 record under Kelly supercharged a frenzy, not just around the team’s on-field success, but also around its next iterations of uniforms.
“Winning on a national stage helped so much,” Van Horne said. “That’s when we really dialed up the notion of looking different every game and different combinations and working with the athletes on scripting [uniforms] and even scripting the fans.” It all led to the notion of a uniform release as an event that both Oregon fans and even college football enthusiasts speculated about. The result was an insatiable desire for a wow factor to go with every drop.
“Fans’ expectations are so high for something new and cool, like you’re going to have some groundbreaking uniform that’s never been done before every single game,” Farr said. “But that’s not reality. I would say the last probably six or seven years is really where I got the sense of there’s some weeks where some fans are disappointed because they’re expecting us to have a helmet or a jersey with LED lights in it, and we didn’t do that.”
Farr has found that sometimes, more is less, and most Ducks fans will notice small splashes just as much as they will fixate on what they think of a certain jersey-pant combination.
Sometimes, the splash can be a custom cleat, like the Ducks did last season for the Rose Bowl, or what they’re doing against Penn State this week with exclusive glow-in-the-dark cleats, gloves and accessories. Often, Farr looks to the helmet — the only piece of the outfit he can customize on a weekly basis — as a way to add something new, even if it means an inordinate amount of work for his staff of one assistant and roughly 16 students.
Game 5 uniform for @oregonfootball: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕪’𝕤 ℝ𝕚𝕟𝕘𓂀💍
– ⚫️⚪️⚫️ for the 3rd year in a row, 6th time ever
– 2nd yr in a row that the black lids make their szn debut in week 5
– 1st 🦆 uni to 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 feature glow in the dark cleats, gloves, accessories#GoDucks pic.twitter.com/DbENrpW1Cv
— Jonah Henderson (@JonahNHenderson) September 25, 2025
When Oregon faced Wisconsin in the 2020 Rose Bowl, and Farr had to reuse a uniform combination, he opted to tweak the chrome helmets with green tonal wings that he painted on to match the face mask. As the famous San Gabriel mountain sunset struck its pose during the game, the helmets reflected it perfectly.
“It ended up being one of the best things I’ve ever done,” Farr said. “Then we won the game. So, it’s iconic right around here. But if we would’ve lost the game, people would be like, ‘Ah, we didn’t have a new uniform.'”
Farr is now used to that pressure, in large part, because he knows it’s not his vision that ultimately matters. In fact, Farr has, in the past, been overruled on a design he didn’t love only to see it shine.
“We wore one at Washington, I want to say four or five years ago, where it was a yellow helmet, yellow gloves and yellow cleats, but it was all white,” Farr said. And I was like, ‘This is looking stupid, and this is going to look terrible.’ We got on the field and people thought it looked great. So they like to give me a hard time about that.”
In the end, the final fit comes down to those who actually wear the jerseys.
TEZ JOHNSON WAS playing the part of lobbyist to no avail. The Oregon wide receiver, four of his teammates and Farr all gathered early last year to make the all-important decision: What were the Ducks going to wear for 2024, and when?
Farr had already received samples of every one of the five base uniforms that made up the “Generation O” class of kits from Van Horne Brands — helmets, jerseys, base layers, socks, cleats and gloves — and had them ready for players to see.
With five to pick from, players have to get creative. Farr does, too. When EA Sports’ college football game made its return last year, Farr was able to get EA to preload all of Oregon’s uniform combinations from its latest set onto the game so current players could try different blends they might be able to replicate in real life.
Johnson was adamant: Oregon should wear an all-black combination against Washington in the season finale. His teammates disagreed. The black getup was their best look of the year, and it should be worn earlier, specifically against Ohio State.
“It was very hotly debated for way too long,” Farr said. “The rest of the guys kind of overrode his vote. He was upset about it — I was like, ‘That’s all part of why you’re on the committee, but you’re only 20% of the vote, man.’ I totally leave it up to them.”
Farr has conducted this meeting for several years now, as a way to democratize the process. Every year, Farr selects a group of players, typically upperclassmen who have shown interest, to form a committee made up of an odd number so there’s never a tie. Over the course of two to three hours, players debate their choices, weighing things like opponent, where the game falls in their schedule and even weather.
“It’s got to be guys that are opinionated and not afraid to voice their opinions, because that’s what you want, you want a healthy dialogue,” Farr said. “For the players that are part of it, it’s kind of a badge of honor.”
Once players have finalized their choices with Farr’s assistance, he will lay out the scripting in a look book and show head coach Dan Lanning before the spring game for approval. Finalizing the looks well in advance of the season helps Farr organize the high volume of inventory he has to line up. Going off-script is rare, but not impossible. Two years ago, with undefeated Colorado visiting for a highly anticipated matchup, the Ducks changed to a different uniform combination.
Now, with the postseason potentially adding four extra games on top of the conference championship, Farr & Co. have to think beyond the regular season and a single bowl appearance. In the first season of the 12-team College Football Playoff last year, once Oregon knew whether it would be the away or home team, Farr texted committee members to get them thinking about their options for a quarterfinal look so Farr could get a combination set and organize the inventory in time
When you have one set of uniforms for three seasons of games, a repeat, especially in the playoffs, is almost inevitable. Even if players love a particular combination and want to run it back, Farr will always try to find a way to add a special twist.
“My whole argument is let’s not be different, just to be different,” Farr said. “We don’t have 12 helmets, 12 jerseys or 12 pairs of pants. It’s the different combinations and tweaks you can make that keep the looks unique.”
THE DUCKS MAY not have a different uniform for every game, but the fact that it feels like they do, or that it feels like they could if they wanted to, is a unique feature of Nike’s influence.
According to Farr, while Nike sponsors many programs across the country, it tiers schools, and that determines access to perks such as special releases and custom apparel, with Tier 1 being the highest — that is, unless you’re Oregon.
“[Nike] always told us,” Farr said, “we were Tier 0.”
“When I got to Oregon, I thought the practice jersey was the game jersey,” said wide receiver Evan Stewart, who transferred from Texas A&M. “It’s just different here. You look good, feel good, you play good.”
While players get to test upcoming fabrics and jersey materials that may not come out until 2028 (Oregon has been in the current Nike Fuse chassis that just came to the NFL since 2019), Nike gets to use Oregon athletes as wear test subjects (often it’s the uniform selection committee who gets first dibs) who provide feedback on the products. And while the Van Hornes and Nike are technically behind the designs, part of their process is getting input from players.
“Sometimes we don’t talk to players about what you want to look like,” Quinn Van Horne said. “It’s, ‘Hey if Oregon was a car, what kind of car would it be? What’s your favorite superhero movie? What kind of music are you listening to? When you walk out on the field, what do you see and what do you want to picture? What do you want to feel like?'”
It’s this system that will constantly evolve as players with different perspectives cycle in and out of the program that Todd Van Horne believes will keep Oregon’s well of uniform ideas stocked for years to come.
Perhaps nothing embodies that mindset more than the fact that Oregon commits to having at least one entirely new, never-before-seen uniform design each season.
Dubbed the “energy moment,” this sixth uniform combination has, over the years, run the gamut and largely been led by players. From a bright pink helmet with black jerseys in 2013, to a pan-Polynesian heritage-themed “Ohana” uniform in 2020, to a “Stomp Out Cancer” jersey in 2017 designed by cancer survivors as well as working on a “Heroes” bright yellow fit with Lanning’s wife Sauphia (who is eight years cancer-free after being diagnosed with osteosarcoma) last season, the energy moment jersey is where Oregon and Nike often flex their muscles. A Stormtrooper look? Yes. A Lewis-and-Clark-inspired combo? Why not?
“While we want to do some throwbacks and some throwbacks need to be done, it’s like, what’s the next thing?” Farr said. “How are we going to evolve?”
There’s another committee that Farr oversees of younger Oregon players who are part of the idea process for what the energy moment jersey will be in 2026 and 2027. This year’s edition had to be approved by Nike 18 months before it saw the field against Oregon State; it featured a charcoal black and gold look with white helmets dubbed “Shoe Duck” that honors Knight.
“We talk so much about when Oregon comes out with a really big uniform, we’re extra stressed,” Quinn Van Horne said. “We really want to make sure they win, because we know what a win does to cement a uniform and its foundation.”
For Farr, the Van Hornes and Bakas, being part of establishing or furthering Oregon’s aesthetic identity is important and an inextricable part of Nike’s history over the past 25 years. But the goal, from the beginning, has always gone beyond that.
“We intentionally said it, we’re doing all this to win a national title and the uniform [redesign] was part of that too,” Bakas said. “That’s the Nike mentality — you want to be the best. The goal was to win a national championship, and the wheels were set in motion back then. The intent was there, but I didn’t think it would take 30 years or 25 years to get to this point. I thought we would’ve won one by now.”
THE BUILDING THAT houses them may be named after him, but inside the hallway of hanging jerseys, you won’t find any sporting Mariota’s name.
Players who finish their senior season at the school are given a framed jersey before their last home game. Because the jerseys are technically state property, should a player want any of his other Oregon jerseys back, the price is $50 — plus shipping and handling.
Mariota bought all of his once he made it to the NFL. Not everyone else has, though. It’s why even though that closet holds close to 1,000 jerseys, there are still 600 to 800 more sitting in storage on the floor below.
“There’s guys that have left after their five years, and maybe your freshman year was the full reset, and then three years in you got another full reset,” Farr said. “So we’ve had guys that have, at the end of their career, had 40 or 50 jerseys.”
After years of simply taking old jerseys and selling them at a school surplus sale, Farr decided on a different approach. When the performance center was built in 2016, he took the jerseys from storage in rail cars to this room, where he organized them in alphabetical order. You never know who is going to swing through Eugene one of these days wanting to reunite with their polyester past.
“For every Marcus, there’s 119 other guys on that team that maybe weren’t the star player, or maybe when they graduated they couldn’t afford to buy all their jerseys,” Farr said. “So maybe they forgot about it or whatever the situation is, and they’ll come back and they’ll just ask me, and I get to tell them ‘Yeah, here they are.'”
Farr got to do just that as recently as the game against the Cowboys this season.
Cornerback Jaylin Davies was a freshman at Oregon in 2021 before transferring to UCLA for three seasons, eventually landing with Oklahoma State. Davies and Farr greeted each other after the game on the field. Though Davies had only recorded a few snaps as a freshman, he wanted his piece of Oregon history.
“You still have my jersey?” Davies asked Farr.
“I do,” Farr told him. “Call me after the season is over.”
Farr was happy to oblige. After all, that’s one more jersey he can take off a hanger and send on its way, just in time for another to take its place.
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