What do you do when heroes die? Of all the things they do, that isn’t supposed to be one of them, especially heroes you’ve had since childhood. This hero didn’t leap tall buildings or stop intergalactic villains from taking over our planet. What he did was set a new homerun record in baseball, one that stood for quite some time. But he did much more.
Hammerin’ Hank Aaron was my first childhood hero. I know I’m not the only one who followed his heroics at the plate. Likely I wasn’t the only kid to wear a Braves cap every time I had the chance. It was made of something that might have been felt or at least a felt-like material. I wore it until it started to come apart. By the time mom made me discard it, it looked more like a big slice of swiss cheese with a bill sewn on.
Dad would often listen to the games on radio. Milo Hamilton at the mic and Hammerin’ Hank at the plate, now that was baseball! I remember when Hank was close to breaking the record. I stayed up for the game prior to him crushing the record. The game that saw him smack number 715, I fell asleep before the big event and missed it.
In addition to the Braves cap, I had a bat…a real wooden bat. Not like my son who only had the metal bats. For me baseball should always be punctuated by the crack of the bat, not the ping. When the neighborhood kids and I would gather for a game of baseball in the cul-de-sac, in my mind I was number 44. I viewed every at-bat as though it were the bottom of the ninth with three men on and two men out. The game was tied, and the world was on my shoulders. But that didn’t bother me. I was Hammerin’ Hank ready to save the day. Three pitches later reality slapped me in the face. I may have stepped to the plate as Hank Aaron, but I went back to the curb (our dugout) as Charlie Brown. (Way to go, Blockhead!)
When I think about it, both Hank and Charlie had things in common. Things that taught me some important lessons. Both were passionate about the game of baseball. Passion is important in life. Life void of some sort of passionate pursuit isn’t really living. You have to love life to live it. Likewise, neither didn’t always knock one over the fence. But that didn’t stop either from continuing to try. Perseverance is a powerful thing. Giving up is easy. Continuing to try knowing that you might fail is a powerful character trait.
I have met people who don’t like the idea of heroes. They feel it leads to idolatry. I see their point, but I think it depends on your definition of “hero”. Some say a hero is an ordinary person who steps up to extraordinary things in certain situations. Think of the person who risks their life to snatch a small child out of the path of an oncoming car. But a hero is also someone who inspires us to do more…to be more…to not settle or throw in the towel even when we strike out.
Some may wonder at my saying Aaron was my first childhood hero instead of my dad. That’s because Dad was not merely a hero. He was a superhero. He could fix almost anything. He could build almost anything. And he learned to do both by trying. Growing up poor on a farm in South Georgia DIY isn’t a hobby, it’s how you survive. While I never mastered the skills of fixing and building, I am pretty good at trying. Lesson taught…lesson learned.
The are other heroes in my life who inspire me. My wife who earned her masters with one child still at home and a husband who wasn’t much help. Then she earned her doctorate while dealing with a dog with dementia and a husband who wasn’t much help. Sadly, the dog has since passed, but she still has a husband who isn’t much help.
There’s my friend I’ll call “Skier X.” He’s the one who fought cancer and came out alive on the other side, although not without some close calls. I know there may have been times when he wanted to quit, but he never did. Perseverance personified.
Athletes who excel often win the MVP award for their team, their league and even their sport. A select handful make their sport’s Hall of Fame. Aaron won the MVP his second season in the Major League He holds the record for most All-Games at 25 and most season as an All-Star at 21 (the league held two All-Star games per season for a time). He’s also in the MLB Hall of Fame and rightfully so. He was a great ball player who was an inspiration to a chunky kid with no athletic ability. More importantly, in the way he carried himself on and off the field through adversity and his post-baseball career as a businessman, he was a great man. That continues to inspire the adult that chunky kid grew up to be.
Thanks Hank.
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