On March 24, 2012 MLB Fan Cave executive Matt Slamon asked
me which Major League Baseball player I had always wanted to meet. We were
about an hour away from doing our Fan
Cave fantasy baseball
draft, so my head was really more focused on that as opposed to his question. I
was in the process of trying to find an outlet to plug my computer in when I
told him that Gary Carter was the one guy I had always wished to have a
conversation with. Carter had passed away the month before and the way I heard Slamon’s
question I had thought he meant living or dead. He then took a moment,
apologized and asked the question one more time.
“Which living
player have you always wanted to meet?”
“Oh! My bad,” I said. I thought about it for a few seconds,
looked around the room and then said, “Hank Aaron.” Just a name, no
explanation. He said ok and walked off to ask somebody else the same question.
To be honest, I was at first offended by his lack of
clarification the first time he asked. Everyone in that building knew how much
Carter meant to me, and it felt a bit weird for the next hour or so, at least
in my mind. When he asked the question the second time I was staring at Atlanta
Braves fans and fellow Cave Dwellers Shaun Kippins and Ricky Mast when Hank
Aaron’s name came out of my mouth. To be honest, Aaron is someone I’ve always
wanted to have a discussion with, but not necessarily about baseball. Every connection I
made for the 3 months I was in New
York City with anyone who played the game of baseball
had nothing to do with the sport. Yes, I love baseball; however, baseball
is/was their job. Talking about someone’s career is pretty boring, unless of
course my job was to talk about their job; which in my head it wasn’t. With
Aaron, the man has been alive for 79 years, and only played baseball
professionally for 25 of them. With what that man has been through in his life
there are definitely way more important things to talk about than how he made a
living. When I looked at Ricky and Shaun’s faces upon answering that question, I
mostly did it for them. I had a feeling that the two of them both said Aaron’s
name and I wanted to help make that possible for them.
Aaron, to me at least, would have been the equivalent of
meeting The Beatles. With all of my years of training as a
journalist, that moment of “Oh my God I’m talking to Hank Aaron!” definitely
would have set in within a matter of seconds. So at the time it probably would
have been a really good idea to not be around him to save the risk of making
him feel uncomfortable. Because let’s be honest, even with all the knowledge of
the game and history I possess, I’m still kind of an odd-looking bird.
I’ve been a great admirer of Aaron’s life and times in
baseball since I was a little kid. I spent hours at the library on the weekends
reading almanacs and history books about guys like Jackie Robinson, Satchel
Paige, Willie Mays and of course, Aaron. Having been born and raised on the
east side of the Bay Area I didn’t really have a lot of white friends until the
age of six when my dad relocated us to Bakersfield,
California for work. From the ages of two
to five I attended pre-school with a lot of Asian, black and a few white kids
in Stockton.
Being around such a mix of cultures at such a young age you tend not to notice
differences in other people. It wasn’t until I was around nine or 10-years-old
that I finally experienced racism first hand.
Having read all the books on the greats of the Negro Leagues,
I only saw on paper how terrible life could be at times for the players
trekking across the country, not being allowed to eat, wash or sleep in the
same establishments of the people who came to watch them play. As I got older,
and learned more about the subject of racism I then started to notice things in
my daily environment. For those of you who don’t know, Bakersfield has had its fair share of history
with prejudice on multiple occasions. This was actually a topic that came up in
a conversation with current Boston Red Sox outfielder Jonny Gomes and me in
September of 2012. In 2002 Gomes played with the Bakersfield Blaze and he
recalled overhearing a conversation between one of the executives of the Blaze
and all of the non-white members of the team.
“You see that bridge that’s down the road just passed the
Jack in the Box?” said Gomes. “Don’t ever go passed it, especially at night.”
The bridge in question he was referring to was one I knew
all too well. Sam
Lynn Ball
Park, the home of the
Blaze, resided just off of Chester
Avenue, which is one of the two most crime-ridden
streets in the city. Most important, on the opposite side of that bridge is the
town of Oildale, one of the more impoverished
towns attached to Bakersfield.
Literally at the edge of Oildale, on the cusp of the bridge lies a bar which is
also a front for one of the large white supremacy group chapters in California. Much in the
same way Gomes and company learned about it, I found out about it right before
my teenage years. This was also the around the first time I saw one of my
friends, Reggie Mackey, get called a nigger and get spit on by some older kids
who lived in out neighborhood. This was also the first time I had ever gotten
my ass kicked for standing up for my friend Reggie. Black eyes will stop
swelling, cuts will close and blood will continue to course through your veins
over time, but the heartbreak and anger caused by ignorance will never go away.
These posts I write every single day are more than just
about the hat I wear. Every one of them has great stories behind them. This
Milwaukee Braves hat was used for every game after their move from Boston in 1953 until their relocation to Atlanta at the end of the 1965 season. It
carries an entire legacy behind it, which is the starting point, and the
meaning behind my marking for it.
4/13/54- Almost 60 years ago today Hammering Hank Aaron took
his first steps out of the dugout and onto a Major League ball field in his
debut with the Milwaukee Braves at County
Stadium. His journey to
the Show actually started On February 5, 1934 (he and I share the same
birthday) in Mobile, Alabama to Herbert and Estella (Pritchett)
Aaron. Aaron had seven siblings. Tommie
Aaron, one of his brothers, also went on to play Major League Baseball. While
he was born in a section of Mobile
referred to as "Down the Bay," he spent most of his youth in Toulminville.
His family couldn't afford baseball equipment, so he practiced by hitting
bottle caps with sticks. He would create his own bats and balls out of
materials he found on the streets. Aaron attended Central High School
as a freshman and a sophomore, where he played outfield and third base on the
baseball team and helped lead his team to the Mobile Negro High School
Championship both years. During this time, he also excelled in football.
His success on the football field led to several football scholarship offers,
which he turned down to pursue a career in professional baseball.
Although he batted cross-handed (i.e., as a right-handed hitter, with his left
hand above his right), Aaron had already established himself as a power hitter.
As a result, in 1949, at the age of fifteen, Aaron had his first tryout
with a MLB franchise, with the Brooklyn Dodgers; however, he did not make the
team. After this, Aaron returned to school to finish his secondary
education, attending the Josephine Allen Institute, a private high school in
Alabama. During his junior year, Aaron joined the Mobile Black Bears, an
independent Negro league team. While on the Bears, Aaron earned $10
per game ($88 today). Aaron's minor league career began on November 20, 1951,
when baseball scout Ed Scott signed Aaron to a contract on behalf of the Indianapolis
Clowns of the Negro American League.
During my time on the road last season I happened to visit Kansas City for three
days. I was still quite bitter after missing out on the All-Star game that had
taken place two months prior, so I had a lot of sights to check out besides
catching a Kansas City Royals game. The most important thing, go to the Negro League
Baseball Museum.
There were a lot of players I knew about from books, films and Ken Burns
Baseball, but I hardly knew a lot about their pasts and journeys into
professional baseball. The museum helped shed light on a lot of this,
especially Aaron’s time with the Clowns. There was a transcript I came across
which made me shudder, as with a lot of other real pieces from that time in
American history which I’ll never full understand. Aaron was 18-years-old at
the time when spoke of an experience during his days with the Clowns.
The day after Baltimore, we were rained out of a big Sunday doubleheader
at Griffith Stadium in Washington. We had breakfast while we were
waiting for the rain to stop, and I can still envision sitting with the Clowns
in a restaurant behind Griffith
Stadium and hearing them break all the plates in the kitchen after we were
finished eating. What a horrible sound. Even as a kid, the irony of it hit me:
Here we were in the capital in the land of freedom and equality, and they had
to destroy the plates that had touched the forks that had been in the mouths of
black men. If dogs had eaten off those plates, they'd have washed them. -
Chris Mays The 8 Things
Such cases of bigotry continued on throughout his life and
career.
Aaron helped the team win the 1952 Negro League World
Series, and he quickly received two contract offers from the New York Giants
and Braves based on his outstanding abilities: a .366 batting average in 26
official Negro league games, with 5 home runs, 33 (RBI), 41 hits, and 9 stolen
bases were the only stats recorded.
"I had the Giants' contract in my hand. But the Braves
offered fifty dollars a month more. That's the only thing that kept Willie Mays
and me from being teammates – fifty dollars," said Aaron.
Aaron elected to play for the Braves, who purchased him from
the Clowns for $10,000. On June 14, 1952, Aaron signed with Braves'
scout Dewey Griggs. During this time, he picked up the nickname pork chops
because it "was the only thing I knew to order off the menu." A
teammate later said, "the man ate pork chops three meals a day, two for
breakfast." Aaron’s first stop through the minor leagues came in the same
town in which my girlfriend Angie Kinderman was born and raised in, Eau Claire, Wisconsin.
The team was the Eau Claire Bears, a former C-level team of the Northern League
that operated from 1933-1942 and again from 1946-1962. In 87 games Aaron batted
.336 with four triples, nine home runs and 116 hits. According to Baseball-Reference.com
there is no indication of his runs batted in. Aaron only lasted one season in Eau Claire, moving on to
the Jacksonville Braves of the South Atlantic League. Angie bought this shirt
for me when she went back home to visit her family over this last Christmas.
Aaron's performance with the Braves won the league
championship that year. Aaron led the league in runs (115), hits (208), doubles
(36), RBI (125), total bases (338), and batting average (.362) and won the
league's MVP award in such a dominant fashion that one sportswriter was
prompted to say, "Henry Aaron led the league in everything except hotel
accommodations." Aaron's time with the Braves did not come without
problems. He was one of the first five non-white players to play in the league.
The 1950s were a period of racial segregation in parts of the United States,
especially the southeastern portion of the country. When Aaron traveled around Jacksonville, Florida
and the surrounding areas, he was often separated from his team because of Jim
Crow laws. In most circumstances, the team was responsible for arranging
housing and meals for its players, but Aaron often had to make his own
arrangements. The Braves' manager, Ben Geraghty, tried his best to help Aaron
on and off the field. Former Braves minor league player and sportswriter Pat
Jordan said, "Aaron gave [Geraghty] much of the credit for his own swift
rise to stardom." On the plus side, his time with the Braves also allowed
him to meet his future wide Barbara Lucas. The night they met, Lucas decided to
attend the Braves' game. Aaron singled, doubled, and hit a home run in the
game. On October 6, Aaron and Lucas married.
Before being promoted
to the majors, Aaron spent the winter of 1953 playing in Puerto
Rico. Mickey Owen, the team's manager, helped Aaron with his
batting stance. After working with Owen, Aaron was better able to hit the ball
effectively all over the field, whereas previously, Aaron was only able to hit
for power when he hit the ball to left or center field. During his
stay in Puerto Rico the Braves requested that
Aaron start playing in the outfield. This was the first time Aaron had played
any position other than shortstop or second base with the Braves. - Early Years 2007
Aaron reported to Spring Training in 1954. On March 14 he
made his first start in the field for the Braves after starting left fielder
Bobby Thomson, of “The Shot Heard ‘Round the World” fame, and fractured his
ankle sliding into second base during a game which took place the previous day.
Aaron played well and hit a home run in that game, which led to Aaron receiving
a Major League contract and a jersey with the #5 waiting in his locker. On
April 13, 1954 Aaron batted in the five-hole for the Braves as he made his MLB
debut on the road at Crosley Fields against the Cincinnati Reds. Joe Nuxhall
took the mound for the Reds, getting Aaron to ground out or fly out in all of
his at-bats. Aaron went 0-5 that day without tallying a single strikeout. Teammate,
and future Hall of Famer, Eddie Matthews crushed two home runs that day.
It wouldn’t be until the following season that Aaron would change
his jersey to #44, but that part of his history is what people know most. I’ve
done, and will continue to do what I can to shed the light on the small, yet
important pieces of history that most people let slip away. Aaron truly had a
tough road to travel in the 20 years it took him to get to the Majors. Even
after achieving his dream the difficulties of life as a black man in the South
never ceased.
I bought this hat the day before we did our fantasy baseball
draft, a day before I was asked about who I wanted to meet. This particular hat
had been on my radar since I first saw it on the Lids Web site near the tail
end of the 2011 MLB season; a few months before the Fan Cave
was even in a possibility. Its colors, and even the just the look and shape of
the “M” on the front are iconic pieces of MLB/American history. Just taking one
glance at it and Aaron’s name and face will come to mind for the average
baseball fan. This hat was vital to my collection. I bought it, as well as 20
other hats within the same order, well before I had any intention of ever
cataloging and telling stories about each one.
If given the chance to sit with him, even for a few moments
as what may have been intended from at the start of this article, I would ask
him about how he overcame such obstacles of prejudice; how he gained the
strength to go out onto the field and play a game that, in the grand scheme of
things, isn’t as vital to human existence as it is to have the freedom to walk
down the street and not be attacked because of the color of your skin. Last, I
would ask him what this hat means to him. I’ve always been curious what goes
through the mind of a player when they suit up for each game, and what values
they hold dear anytime they wear the symbols of the franchise they’re
affiliated with. Perhaps this could be my mission in 2014.
I've read some of your posts, and this was by far the most meaningful.
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