My dad was baseball wise. Like most children, I learned to love baseball through my fathers eyes. I was a hopeless player, however - no speed, no coordination, no arm. I was an only child, and like many only children I possessed a vivid imagination. I could stand alone in my front yard with a plastic bat and a tennis ball, throwing the ball up into the air and attempt to clobber it over an imaginary left field wall over and over. I could hear the crowd, see the lights and smell the popcorn in my mind. It was in one of those moments that my father instilled something I have carried with me my entire life. And it really had nothing to do with baseball. I was out there in the front yard on 194 street, probably all of 5 years old, playing my imaginary game of baseball. In my mind, I was a fearsome slugger, a home run hitting machine. Problem was, I was 5 years old. I really didnt know any baseball players except for maybe Bill Stoneman and a couple others I had seen on Slurpee cups. I didnt know who I wanted to be there standing at the plate with the bags loaded. Timing being everything, at that point my baseball wise father popped outside. Dad, I asked, Who is the best home run hitter? Hank Aaron, he replied. But I dont want to be him, Dad. Hes black. Now, dont ask me where that came from. This is before the big 715th home run, so I dont even know how I knew Aaron was African American. I was too little to have any kind of real idea about race or any evolved ideas on diversity or anything like that. It just came out. My dad used this as a teaching moment of sorts, and looked me in the eye. G.R., he said, What does it matter what color his skin is? You asked who was the best. Hank Aaron is the best. That resonated with me in a way that only a fathers voice can with a 5 year old. And when I tossed that ball up in the air and took a whack at it, I was Hammering Hank of the Atlanta Braves, and I was the best. Tonight marks the 40th anniversary of Hank Aarons 715th home run which broke the long-standing record previously held by Babe Ruth and since broken by Barry Bonds. I cant help but think of my dad when recalling that moment. I watched that game with my dad, live on a black and white television with rabbit ears (know what those are, kids?). We cheered when he broke the record, and Ill never forget it. I can still hear Dad say There it goes! just as Aarons bat connected with he ball. I can remember at the time being astonished that my father had the prescience to know that the hit was a home run before the ball cleared the infield. My dad was baseball wise.
Posted on: Tue, 08 Apr 2014 14:12:48 +0000
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