The Hammer connects with No. 715.
Note: I originally wrote and published this story for Top Comments back on October 8, 2011. Since Henry Aaron just passed away, I thought I’d offer it up in its original form as my poor tribute to a real hero. May he rest in peace.
Before you get too excited, let me say that I have never met Hank Aaron. But I always wanted to say "me and Hank Aaron" and it makes a catchy title. Because Milwaukee is in the baseball headlines these days, my old synapses made the connection to Henry Aaron and the 1957 Milwaukee Braves, and I started thinking about him. I first became aware of Henry Aaron when those '57 Braves won the World Series. I was six. Less than a decade later, the Braves were in Atlanta, where I lived in the suburbs, and I finally had my own team to root for.
Henry Aaron in the early 50’s.
Hank Aaron was Atlanta's best player, just as he had been Milwaukee's. So I've been paying attention to Aaron for a long time, and he is a rarity--a sports hero to a child who remains a hero to the adult that child became. My concerns are greater than catching or hitting a ball now, but in all the years I have followed Hank Aaron, he has never disappointed me. He has always had dignity, grace, and humility. But he has also had quiet strength, determination, and confidence. His words have been considered and his actions controlled. A great man.
Then, I thought about how I saw him as a kid. And it dawned on me, I saw him as a great baseball player and so did the kids around me. As a white kid in Georgia in the 1950s, I heard the n-word many times each day and used it myself (but not at my liberal home), and most of my friends were indoctrinated in racist culture. But when we talked sports, it was with admiration for Henry Aaron and Willie Mays and Roberto Clemente. Blacks and Latinos became people with names and personalities, not ni--ers and sp-cs. When we played basketball in the backyard, we pretended to be Wilt Chamberlain and Bill Russell. Race just wasn't an issue.
I think a seed of equality is planted in kids by sports. In sports the playing field is obviously even so it's hard to deny accomplishments no matter who makes them. The same is true in war, and the military acts as a similar equalizer. Imagine if we offered an equal playing field in education and employment and housing.
Hank in his golden years.
Often in my life, I have seen cognitive disconnect in whites of my generation. They mean it when they say, "Some of my best friends are black." They do have black acquaintances and co-workers and classmates, but they continue to stereotype blacks as a whole. It's like saying Congress is bad but my congressman is OK. They see their black friends and acquaintances as exceptions to the rule--and the rule is an ingrained, pervasive certainty of white supremacy.
But sometimes that seed grows into a real awareness that we are human beings, not races. The integration of sports has meant many more seeds are cast to the wind. Some still fall on rocky ground, but enough are taking root that things are changing. The generations following the Boomers are getting more and more tolerant. And it's partly because of sports and people like Hank Aaron.
