Remembering Hank Aaron, one of the greats

There's a story about Hank Aaron that sticks with me. The tale, as retold by columnist George Will in Ken Burns' 1994 docuseries "Baseball," goes like this (I'm paraphrasing, of course). During a Spring Training in the 1960s, the great Dodgers pitching staff was sitting together swapping stories about how to get the great National League hitters out. A name would come up, and the pitchers would talk about the best way to pitch to him. "Willie McCovey?" "Up and in." "Willie Mays?" "Down and in." "Willie Stargell?" "Outside." Finally, another name came up. "Henry Aaron?" Dead silence. Finally, someone offered something. "Make sure no one's on when he hits it out." Henry "Hank" Aaron, the man who hit 755 home runs, died Friday at 86. I wanted to get "755" out of the way early. Certainly, this is what Aaron is best known for. Most probably think of Aaron rounding the bases at Fulton County Stadium on April 8, 1974 after hitting home run No. 715 – surpassing Babe Ruth's career record – and then getting congratulated by a couple of guys who looked like rejects from the band REO Speedwagon as he rounded the bases. Aaron just smiled. After some of the horrible letters he received from racist baseball fans – and some of the threats contained within them – it's rather remarkable he didn't just drop these trespassing strangers. Aaron's pursuit of Babe Ruth's record made him an antagonist to some baseball fans in the 1970s. Some of that was clearly racism. Some people just didn't want to see a Black man take down a white legend's record. But it wasn't all racism. Ruth has a place in American culture – even today – that few athletes can touch. Roger Maris – who like Ruth was white – found that out when he challenged the Babe's single season home run record in 1961. Some were disappointed to see Ruth's records fall at the time, just because he was a practically mythical figure. Some thought that losing the records would harm Ruth's legacy. Forty-seven years later, it's clear that it hasn't. Ruth's status as an American icon is secure. If anything, I'd argue breaking the career home run record hurt Aaron more than Ruth, at least in how the former is perceived. When people think of Aaron, they think of home runs. Even his nickname – Hammerin' Hank – denotes power and strength. But Aaron wasn't just a power hitter. He was a brilliant overall player. There are a number of amazing statistics about Aaron, but this one is my favorite: Had Hank Aaron never hit a home run during his Major League Baseball career, he'd still have 3,000 hits. Aaron had a career batting average of .305. He had 200 hits in a season three times and won three Gold Gloves. He also stole 20 or more bases five times. Hank Aaron was a complete player. It's been a bad year for baseball. In the last few months, Hall of Famers like Tom Seaver, Joe Morgan, Tommy Lasorda and Don Sutton have died. Yet, somehow, this one hurts the most, at least for me. Aaron was a link to baseball's past. He started in the Negro Leagues, then, two decades later, finished his career with the Milwaukee Brewers as something called a designated hitter. He played at Crosley Field, and at Riverfront Stadium. He was on shows like "Home Run Derby" in the 1960s, and then had cameos on shows like MacGyver and Mr. Belvedere. Aaron once said that he didn't want people to forget the Babe, he just wanted them to remember him. Aaron's home run total was eventually surpassed by Barry Bonds (feel free to add a mental asterisk here). But Aaron's career and legacy will live on. He was one of the best.