Dieter Kurtenbach: There's good, great, and then there was Willie Mays

But it’s the testimonials of those who played with and against him — those who saw the incredible feats of his brilliant 23-year career — that make an even stronger argument.

“No record book reflects this kind of concentration, determination, perseverance, or ability. As a player, Willie Mays could never be captured by mere statistics,” legendary San Francisco newsman Harry Jupiter said of Mays.

Mays died Tuesday. The Say Hey Kid was 93 years old.

Mays lent his legitimacy to San Francisco and the Bay Area until the end. Born in Alabama and rising to prominence in New York, Mays embraced San Francisco, even if the city didn’t always embrace him.

And with so many of our sports stars’ stories littered with caveats, Mays’ reputation remained as sterling as his play.

Every town needs a first star. San Francisco couldn’t have landed a better one.

It’s fair to wonder if Joe Montana, Steph Curry, Barry Bonds, Rickey Henderson or Patrick Marleau — among so many others — carve out roles as Bay Area pro sports legends if Mays didn’t come to San Francisco and pull more than a million fans a year to Seals Stadium and later Candlestick Park, rooting the team in town.

Luckily that’s merely a thought experiment. Theatre of the mind.

And, sadly, for folks of my generation, Mays’ incredible accomplishments on the field are also that. Sure, there are some highlights. And we all know “The Catch”. But few, if any, were able to experience the full depth of Mays’ talent — his day-to-day greatness.

But to hear others tell the story, it would seem as if the rules of hyperbole were suspended for No. 24.

There was good, and beyond that, great. Then there was Willie Mays.

Said Mays’ manager Leo Durocher:

“If somebody came up and hit .450, stole 100 bases and performed a miracle in the field every day, I’d still look you right in the eye and tell you that Willie was better.”