AT PEACE WITH HIS LEGACY
Hammerin’ Hank remembered as man of dignity who made a difference
The vile phone calls and hate mail poured into the Braves’ offices, littered with ugly epithets and racial overtones.
They were belittling, ridiculing and reviling, demanding the organization take action against Hank Aaron.
This wasn’t 1974, the year Aaron broke Babe Ruth’s homerun record.
This was 2014, after an interview I did with Aaron commemorating the 40-year anniversary of his record.
We talked for an hour that day at the ballpark about that historic moment and why he saved all of the hate mail from his chase of Ruth — wanting to be reminded of the hatred that still exists.
He never begrudged Barry Bonds for eclipsing his record, but he believed there should be asterisks on the plaques of future Hall of Famers who used performance-enhancing drugs. He was distraught by the lack of diversity in major-league baseball, with his frustrations never subsiding.
And, yes, we talked about politics, too.
“A lot of things have happened in this country,’’ Aaron said, several years after Barack Obama became the country’s first Black president, “but we have so far to go. There’s not a whole lot that has changed.
“We can talk about baseball. Talk about politics. Sure, this country has a Black president, but when you look at a Black president, President Obama is left with his foot stuck in the mud from all of the Republicans with the way he’s treated.
“We have moved in the right direction, and there have been improvements, but we still have a long ways to go in the country. The bigger difference is that back then, they had hoods. Now they have neckties and starched shirts.’’
Well, the outcry was enormous in Atlanta, and I was horrified, seeing people deride a man who’s so beloved not just for his accomplishments, but his sheer class and demeanor.
He wasn’t calling the Republican party racist, but he was frustrated for Obama, whose family had become close with his over the years.
I picked up the telephone, called Aaron at his home and profusely apologized.
“For what?’’ Aaron said. “I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean. People need to hear these things.’’
Remarkably, nothing shook this man. And he spoke when it was so much easier and comfortable to be silent.
The conversation was two years after Trayvon Martin, an unarmed Black teenager, was killed in Florida. This was five months before Michael Brown was killed in Ferguson, Missouri; six years before Breonna Taylor was killed in her apartment in Louisville, Kentucky, and George Floyd in Minneapolis.
And, of course, years before the violent insurrection at the U.S. Capitol just weeks ago.
Now, 16 days after the state of Georgia voted for their first Black Senator, and two days after the historic inauguration of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris, Aaron died Friday morning in his Atlanta home.
Aaron was 86 years old, but the timing was stunning and completely unexpected.
Close friends saw him and spoke to him just a few days ago. He was filmed two weeks ago at the Morehouse School of Medicine taking the COVID-19 vaccination, answering the school’s request for Black civil and human rights leaders to help combat hesitancy among minorities and communities of color.
Now, here we are.
There was Braves manager Brian Snitker crying on a video call. Astros manager Dusty Baker calling Aaron the greatest influence in his life outside of his father. The baseball community, from Aaron’s former teammates to former commissioner Bud Selig to Hall of Famers, all telling their favorite stories.
“He had this aura about him,’’ Hall of Famer Chipper Jones said. “He was in constant peace while he probably had every right to be militant and angry and leery of everyone he came into contact with.
“He never was. He always had this gentle smile. Always had this peace about him.’’