Willie McCovey, 79, is a former first baseman for the San Francisco Giants who played in the major leagues from 1959 to 1980. He hit 521 career home runs and was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1986. He spoke with Marc Myers.

The South of my youth in the 1940s was strictly segregated. I grew up in Mobile, Ala., and as long as we stayed in our neighborhood, we were fine. But you still had to deal with the indignities. I remember a white fellow in his 20s coming to our house and addressing my father as “boy.” That was hard to take.

Our neighborhood was close-knit. My friends and I played sports year-round. But we didn’t play much hardball early on. We played fast-pitch softball.

Willie McCovey signing an autograph for 12-year-old actor Kurt Russell at Candlestick Park, San Francisco, in 1963. Photo: ASSOCIATED PRESS

My family’s A-frame house was a 15-minute walk from town. It had a living room and not much of a bedroom. I was the seventh of 10 kids—eight boys and two girls. Fortunately, we all weren’t living at home at the same time. The older ones moved out as soon as they could, so six of us shared a room. We were crammed onto two convertible beds.

My father, Frank, worked hard fixing tracks for the GM&O Railroad. He wasn’t a large man, but he was strong—and very quiet. When he spoke, we listened. At home, he never raised his voice. But if he had to talk to you about right and wrong, he’d sit you down and you wouldn’t forget it.

My mother, Esther, was a loving woman and an incredible, understanding cook. I hated okra, so she’d cook a separate dish for me, or she’d pick out the okra pieces. She wasn’t an “eat it or else” mom.

All of us had our chores. Mine was feeding the chickens we raised out back. The oldest in the family was responsible for driving my father to work in our Buick Roadmaster. My father didn’t drive.

At night, we’d gather around the radio to listen to a guy who re-created the play-by-play of major league baseball games by reading the ticker. With sound effects, he made it seem real.

My friends and I played sports in the streets or empty fields. We played softball in a large local playground. Jesse Thomas was the director. I pitched and was a better pitcher than a first baseman. But I could hit the ball hard.

In early 1954, when I was a junior, I dropped out of high school to help support my family. In addition to my paper route, I tried working as a bus boy in a whites-only restaurant, but I quit after a week. All the things that make you cringe was normal talk then. You took it or you walked away.

I soon found work at a chicken place. I was responsible for washing the chicken parts before they were put out for people to buy.

Mr. McCovey batting against the Los Angeles Dodgers, in L.A., in 1965. Photo: SPORTS ILLUSTRATED/GETTY IMAGES

That December, I took the train to Los Angeles to visit my older brother, Wyatt. It was the first time I was away from Mobile.

I started looking for a job. One day I went to an employment agency, but the line inside was long. It was so hot that I fainted. I was probably dehydrated.

Failing to find a job that day was a blessing. Back at my brother’s apartment, the phone rang. It was Jesse. He was a “bird-dog” who spotted baseball talent for a San Francisco Giants scout named Alex Pompez. He said he told Alex about me. Alex wanted me to report to Florida where the Giants were trying out players.

All of the black players slept at one end of an old army barracks. On my first day, I did lousy. Alex came down and asked why I didn’t hit. I said that I was nervous.

Alex said, “Well, they see something in you and they’re giving you a chance.” The next day I hit two home runs. The Giants signed me to their minor league system.

In July 1959, I had just finished playing a double header in Phoenix for the Pacific Coast League when the general manger told me the Giants were calling me up to the big club. I had to be in San Francisco the next day for a game. I flew up on the first flight out.

Horace Stoneham, who owned the Giants, sent his driver to pick me up. I got to the ballpark just in time to get dressed.

Bill Rigney the manager, told me I was batting third, between Willie Mays and Orlando Cepeda. My first time at bat I hit a triple. Then I hit a single, another triple and a single. That day I made the team. They called me “Stretch” because I was 6-foot-4.

Today, I live in a split-level house in the Bay Area. I built it from scratch on an acre in the late 1970s. I have a good view of Mount Diablo and Redwood City across San Francisco Bay.

Because of an old baseball knee injury, I spend most of my time in the bedroom watching the Baseball Channel on TV when I’m not at Giants home games.

My father never saw me play with the Giants. My mother did, though, in the 1960s. She didn’t know much about the game. But after, she said, “People clapped for you, so you must be doing something good.”