Willie Mays 1955 Signed Game Used Baseball Glove PSA DNA COA & Player Letter
$89,995.00
Presented is a circa 1955 MacGregor G101 professional model game used outfield glove signed by MLB Hall of Famer and baseball icon Willie Mays. Mays, without a doubt, was one of the game's greatest ballplayers, a true five-tool talent who dominated the outfield, the basepaths, and the batter's box. When news broke of Mays' death at the age of 93 on June 18, 2024, a hole was felt in the heart of baseball fans worldwide. Mays was a true exemplar of all things great about the game: the relentless determination in the face of adversity, the flash of superb talent that was like a shooting star across a night sky, dazzling and impossible to look away from, and a kindness that made him one of the top ambassadors of the game. Of all the role models for children to look up to—regardless of race, creed, and all the other things that divide us—none were better than the "Say Hey Kid," and that is an indisputable fact.
Mays has signed the offered glove, penning his flowing signature in blue marker across the back of the glove and adding the inscription "To Colin." The glove exhibits evidence of outstanding use, with substantial wear present in the oiled pocket, face of the webbing, and throughout the body of the glove. .
According to the PSA/DNA authentication team in the accompanying LOA (1G01014), "judging by the inscriptions on the subject glove it was used by [Hobie] Landrith's brothers Gary and David and then given to Landrith's grandson, Colin." PSA/DNA also notes that the restringing of the glove was performed by former Giants equipment manager Mike Murphy. In addition to the LOA from PSA/DNA, the glove comes with a Letter of Provenance from Hobie Landrith, who was a former teammate of Mays when he acquired the glove from Mays directly. The LOP has been signed by Mays in black marker.
Here is an article from the Star Ledger newspaper discussing this very glove given to Hobie by Willie Mays:
Hobie Landrith, the Original Met, has died at 93, according to reports
Landrith was the first player chosen by the Mets in the 1961 expansion draft and the starting catcher in their first game. He spent 14 years in the majors, hitting .233 with 34 homers and 203 RBIs.
He also played for Chicago Cubs, St. Louis Cardinals, San Francisco Giants, Cincinnati Reds, Baltimore Orioles and Washington Senators in his career.
The Star-Ledger profiled him in October 2006:
The handshake grip was meaty enough, but Hobie Landrith wanted to make sure he delivered the message as he greeted us on his doorstep at 3:42 p.m. The sturdy 76-year-old looked me in the eye.
“You’re late. You said 3 o’clock.”
“Sorry, but we ran into some problems with my laptop, and ...”
“You’re late.”
“Sorry, Hobie. Like I said, we had some trouble ...”
“You could have called.”
He turned and headed for the family room, expecting us to follow. Still on the doorstep, photographer John Munson shot me one of those I-just-remembered-I-have-a-molar-extraction-appointment-so-I’m-out-of-here look. This was not going to be pleasant. Hobie Landrith, the original Met, is a hard(butt).
But, even though we had driven five hours — after traveling across the country — we weren’t going to take it personally. After all, this guy was the first Met, selected in the expansion draft in 1961. In the team’s Book of Genesis, he is Adam. So, he has heard the jokes, and maybe he was dreading the interview. Plus, if you spent 14 years of your life squatting and it led to an artificial knee and hip, you might be a bit ornery, too.
Within minutes, though, Landrith was laughing and telling stories and showing off the rocking chair he was given by the Mets at the 1972 Old Timers’ Day. Landrith is old school. He is going to tell it like it is, then let it go.
A journeyman catcher who played for seven teams — he was traded four times and dumped into the expansion draft — Landrith is not the guy you’d figure to be hanging with Hall of Famers. But when Willie Mays recently celebrated his 75th birthday, 10 former players were invited. Landrith was one. Six of the others are in the Hall of Fame.
Here’s why Mays wanted him there: One day back in the late 1950s, Landrith was sitting on the stool in front of his locker with the San Francisco Giants, minding his own business, when Mays thwacked him on the head with his knuckle.
“Why did you do that?” Landrith asked, but Mays just laughed and sat down at his stall. He kept cackling. Landrith grabbed a bat by the barrel, sneaked up on Mays and whacked him — hard — on the shin. Mays let out a howl.
“Don’t ever do that again!” Landrith told him.
Now, how many career .233 hitters would have done that?
Landrith got the last laugh on Mays, who is a good buddy today. Around 1960, Mays wanted a catcher’s mitt. Landrith offered a trade: one of his catcher’s mitts for one of Mays’ gloves. The deal was done. Today, Landrith has a Mays glove worth around $40,000.
“I asked him to sign it years later,” Landrith said, “and he said, ‘Man, where did you get that glove?’ I said, ‘You traded me for it.’ He said, ‘I did?’ He said, ‘I want that glove.’ I said, ‘Willie, you’re not going to get it.’”
Mays never had a chance. After his career, Landrith spent 30 years working for Volkswagen, most of that time as an ombudsman between the parent corporation and the dealers. He was a born negotiator. But that didn’t help him with the Mets. When he was selected No. 1 — manager Casey Stengel told reporters “without a catcher, you’re going to have a lot of passed balls — he had to leave his wife and six kids in San Francisco and relocate. So, he tried to squeeze the ballclub for a few extra bucks. Didn’t work.
“I wasn’t real happy,” Landrith said.
He remembers the first day in ‘62, when Stengel stood in the middle of the clubhouse in St. Petersburg, Fla., and spoke to his team.
“He looked like a Norman Rockwell character — one pant leg up, one down,” Landrith said. “His socks were a mess. His hat was cocked. “He says, ‘Follow me,’ and marches us onto the field, and we move, as a group from the dugout to the on-deck circle to each base, and he gives us lessons on what to do at each spot.
“He’s treating us like were cattle. But at every station, he told you something that was important.”
Landrith, a solid defensive catcher with a strong arm and a knack for blocking pitches, lasted only half the year with the Mets. A left-handed hitter, he was having his best season at the plate, hitting .289, when the Mets dealt him to the Orioles for soon-to-be cult hero Marv Throneberry. Landrith’s oldest son, Gary, then 12, was with his father at the time.
D#S
