As Aaron was giving, Giants and America received
Hank Aaron’s baseball homes were Milwaukee and Atlanta, but he transcended the game and was a man that every town across the country could embrace. That includes San Francisco, where he was honored and adored as if he were the city’s own.
From Willie Mays to Willie McCovey to Felipe Alou to Dusty Baker to Barry Bonds to Duane Kuiper to all fans of baseball, Aaron made an impact unlike any other as a noble figure who could be worshiped as an American hero without a second thought.
Henry Louis “Hank” Aaron
died Friday at 86. He was a Hall of Famer in baseball and a legend in life. He was an African American who broke a white man’s record, the target of abuse and scorn because of his skin color, and overcame more than anyone could imagine to become one of the world’s great ambassadors, civil rights leaders and gentlemen.
Here are 10 thoughts and memories:
⏩ The AaronMays parallels are astounding. Both from Alabama. Both Negro League stars. Both playing more than 20 years in the majors and appearing in more than 20 AllStar Games. Both debuting at age 20 and retiring at age 42. Both Hall of Fame outfielders. Both establishing foundations for underprivileged kids.
But, oh, what a difference. On the field, Aaron was businesslike and always did the right thing. Mays did the right thing, too, but was more of an entertainer who played with flair and flamboyance.
Aaron hit home runs, put his head down and ran the bases. Mays danced around the bags. Both projected their unique personalities, which were perfect for the fan bases in their markets, Aaron in the South and Midwest and Mays on both coasts.
⏩ At 15, life isn’t easy to comprehend. But when Hank stepped to the plate on April 8, 1974, we all knew the significance of his 715th home run off the Dodgers’ Al Downing before 53,775 in Atlanta.
We knew it was far more than “Babe Ruth: home run champ of the firsthalf century” and “Hank Aaron: home run champ of the secondhalf century.” This ran deeper than baseball. It was about America and history and one man making a nation better with his courage, dignity and character, and it inspired kids around the country to do what’s right in a world that can be so wrong.
Nobody captured the moment better than Vin Scully, who delivered the radio broadcast that we grew to cherish:
“What a marvelous moment for baseball. What a marvelous moment for Atlanta and the state of Georgia. What a marvelous moment for the country and the world. A Black man is getting a standing ovation in the Deep South for breaking a record of an alltime baseball idol. And it is a great moment for all of us, and particularly for Henry Aaron. … And for the first time in a long time, that poker face of Aaron’s shows the tremendous strain and relief of what it must have been like to live with for the past several months. It is over.”
⏩ Dusty Baker, the man on deck when Aaron set the record, has endless stories about his mentor. I covered him for five years as a Giants coach and 10 years as the Giants’ manager, and no man meant more to Dusty (beyond his father) than Hank.
Most everything Baker did or said could be traced to Aaron’s teachings from their Atlanta days when Baker, Ralph Garr and others looked to Aaron for guidance, and Aaron didn’t let them down.
“Like Hank said …” “As Hank once told me …” Can’t count how many times I heard those words.
Baker handed it down, and many ballplayers over the past few decades claim him as their own mentor. When Baker evolved into a veteran and leader during his playing days, teammates swore by him, and that has been the case for players he managed in San Francisco, Chicago, Cincinnati, Washington and Houston. To this day, luckily for us all, Baker is spreading the words and lessons he gathered from his old pal.
⏩ I spent part of Bonds’ yearslong home run chase gathering comments from Aaron, whether it was at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium, Turner Field or during the World Series following presentations of the Hank Aaron Award.
It could have been easy to turn me down, but Aaron always offered commentary on a subject that turned a lot of people off because of Bonds’ association with performanceenhancing drugs. It was clear the drug issue bothered Aaron, too, but he shared what was on his mind and prepared himself to step aside.
The first time I saw Aaron after he lost the record, it was clear he wasn’t getting many more questions on whether the record was tainted. “It didn’t bother me,” Aaron said. “It wasn’t my problem.”
⏩ Sometimes people are bigger than the stories they represent. That was the case the day Bonds broke Aaron’s record.
During the onfield celebration, Hank’s image suddenly appeared on the big screen, and the ballpark went quiet, the fans eager to hear the words from the man whose record fell, who overcame racism and hate mail and death threats to surpass Ruth 33 years earlier.
Aaron didn’t disappoint even though he knew much of the country questioned the legitimacy of the new record. He congratulated Bonds for the “great achievement,” offered his best wishes to his family and
said he was privileged to hold this record as long as he did.
“My hope today,” Aaron said, “as it was on that April evening in 1974, is that the achievement of this record will inspire others to chase their own dreams.”
⏩ McCovey adored Aaron and chose to wear his uniform number as a tribute: “Hank and I, both from Mobile, both wore 44 — I wore 44 because of him — we both ended up hitting 44 home runs (in 1963) to tie for the home run title. Quite a big coincidence.”
⏩ Nobody has a better perspective of the AaronMays dynamic than Alou, who played six years with each. In every step of life, we love drawing comparisons and asking who’s better? Same with Aaron and Mays.
I’ll take Alou’s word over anybody’s. He told me, “Hank Aaron was a better hitter. But the best player all around? Willie Mays.” Both men were fine with the assessment.
⏩ For the book Mays and I published in May, “24: Life Stories and Lessons from the Say Hey
Kid,” I had a lengthy phone conversation with Hank, and he was absolutely delightful while reminiscing about his relationship with Willie and debunking much of the stories of friction between the men.
“We sat and talked a long time about baseball, just baseball, which really helped me more than anything in the world, sitting and talking to Willie about baseball,” Hank said. “He may not have thought it, but he gave me some insight on what I needed to do to make myself a better ballplayer.”
⏩ Giants broadcaster Duane Kuiper grew up in Wisconsin, so Aaron was his guy, naturally. The day Kuiper met Aaron was the day he met Mays. The Indians were in Milwaukee to play the Brewers, and an oldtimers game was played during the series. Mays was retired, but Aaron was still active.
Indians pitcher Dennis Eckersley, who grew up in Fremont, was a Mays guy. Like kids, he and Kuiper ran to the outfield to visit their idols.
“Eckersley was besides himself because of Willie, but Willie wasn’t a big deal to me. Hank was a big deal to me,” Kuiper said.
“It was epic for me to play against Aaron. To see him standing on second base, I wanted to get his autograph. Then Frank Robinson puts on a pickoff play just to mess with Aaron because his lead was about this big (fingers barely separated), and Hank spiked himself going back to the bag.”
Kuiper never did get that autograph. “Too afraid to ask,” and how honorable is that?
⏩ Let’s not forget Aaron’s days in Oakland, which aren’t just about Stanley Burrell, the local kid who went to work for the A’s, kept hearing he had a resemblance to Aaron and later became MC Hammer, incorporating Aaron’s nickname.
Aaron’s final two seasons, he was a Brewer — like Mays, he returned to his original baseball town on another team to finish his career — and the Coliseum was one of his final stops.
Aaron hit his 750th and 751st home runs in Oakland. On June 18, 1976, he homered off Jim Todd to break a 22 tie in the ninth, and the Brewers won 32. The next day, he went 3for4 with a homer off Glenn Abbott.
The Brewers were in the American League, and Aaron was their designated hitter. The opposing DH in his final game at the Coliseum was Billy Williams, appropriately. Williams was from Mobile, Ala. Like Aaron. And McCovey. And Satchel Paige.