In August of 1969, Carlos May found himself laying in a hospital bed. Just weeks removed from appearing in his first All-Star game, the burly outfielder was, by his own admission, feeling sorry for himself. That’s because he’d suffered a freak accident during a gunnery exercise while fulfilling his service obligations with the U.S. Marine Reserves, losing part of his right thumb. At the age of 21, it looked like the promising career for which he’d worked so hard might be over as soon as it began.
Carlos May
Born: May 17, 1948 (Birmingham, AL)
Yankees Tenure: 1976-77
May grew up in Birmingham in the shadow of his older brother, Lee. Lee May was a three-sport athlete at Parker High School before embarking on an 18-year MLB career, earning the nickname “Big Bopper” while swatting 354 home runs. Carlos followed in his footsteps, playing baseball, basketball, and football at Parker High. Despite receiving a scholarship offer to play running back and punt at Southern University, May opted for baseball. “I saw the size of some of those guys, 270-280 pounds, and thought baseball would be a lot healthier for me,” he would later say of the fortuitous decision.
In 1966, the year after Lee made his debut with the Reds, the White Sox took Carlos in the first round of the MLB Draft. While he didn’t have the prodigious power of his big brother, who stood four inches taller, May showcased an impressive hit tool, batting .333 in 604 Single-A at-bats between the 1967 and ‘68 seasons. That was enough to earn him a September call-up in ‘68. He’d never see the minors again.
In just his age-21 season, May emerged as an offensive force in 1969, slashing .281/.385/.488 in 367 at-bats. He made his first All-Star game that season as the lone representative of an eventual 94-loss Chicago squad. The showcase allowed the Mays to make history as the first brothers to oppose each other in a Midsummer Classic, with Lee representing the Reds in the NL.
Carlos got one at-bat in the game and was faced with the dubious obstacle of opposing Hall of Fame knuckleballer Phil Niekro. Unsurprisingly, he struck out to end the game. “Lee was at first base and he had his glove over his mouth,” Carlos later said. “He was laughing so hard at me. I’d never seen a knuckleball before; I didn’t know how to hit the thing!”
That moment of levity would stand in stark contrast to the months ahead. After the injury that cost him part of his right thumb, May spent months in and out of hospitals, leveraging everything from massage therapy to skin grafts to toughen up the skin around his wounded hand. He maintained a remarkable sense of perspective throughout the crisis.
“When I first went to the hospital, I felt sorry for myself,” said May. “Then I looked around. I saw guys with no eyes, guys with no legs, guys with half a head, guys who couldn’t talk, walk, hear, guys with no mind or half a mind. I began to think, ‘What am I griping about?’”
After making a few adjustments — including the use of a custom batting glove designed by Wilson Sporting Goods — May was ready to return for the 1970 season. The rapid recovery was not lost on his teammates. “Carlos really showed me something,” said Tommy McCraw, a first baseman and outfielder on the ’69 and ‘70 White Sox. “He’s got great courage. If he didn’t have real guts, he’d be back in Chicago, not out here trying to play ball. I know he has pain every time he throws, but he keeps throwing anyway.”
While May never again slugged as much as he had in his rookie season — a campaign in which he hit 18 home runs in 100 games and finished third in AL Rookie of the Year voting — his hitting ability and plate discipline kept him performing at a high level for the next three seasons. May had a career year in 1972, making his second All-Star team while slashing .308/.405/.438. He began to fall off in the years after that showing, as leg injuries had further sapped his power and made him a liability in the outfield.
On May 18, 1976, the day after his 28th birthday, the White Sox traded their homegrown star to the Yankees for pitcher Ken Brett and outfielder Rich Coggins. The lefty had gotten off to a brutal start, slugging just .206, but found new life in pinstripes, serving almost exclusively as a DH, where he split time with the right-handed Lou Piniella. In 87 games, May hit .278 and got on base at a .358 clip, an encouraging return to form.
May showed out in the first playoff game of his career. In Game 2 of the ALCS, the DH went 2-for-5 against Royals pitching. Unfortunately, he’d go 0-for-14 the rest of the way, unable to contribute as the Yankees got swept by the Reds in the World Series.
May got off to another slow start in ‘77, posting a .601 OPS in 65 games before getting moved to the Angels. After appearing in just 11 games there, it looked like a 10-year career that had yielded two All-Star berths and a .274 batting average had run its course. Indeed, at the age of 29, May had played his last game in the MLB. But, after being recruited to play for the Nankai Hawks of the NPB, he had a second act in Japan. In four seasons with the Hawks, May slashed .309/.390/.506 and hit 70 homers, showcasing more power than he had in the States and ending his playing career on a high note.
After hanging up his spikes, May transitioned to a career with the U.S. Postal Service and has remained involved with the White Sox in their Community Relations Department. “I came to Chicago in 1968 and haven’t left,” May said of his adopted city. “They have the greatest fans in baseball. I played with the Yankees and the Angels, but the White Sox are me. I am a Sox die-hard fan. It hurts me when they don’t do well.”
While his stint in New York was brief, May was part of a pivotal team in Yankees history, one that ended a 12-year playoff drought and set the stage for championships in 1977 and ‘78. Please join us in wishing a happy 78th birthday to Carlos May.
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