About 55,000 people were in the stands that day in Atlanta, at the old Fulton County Stadium; and several billion were watching on NBC. I was one of them. It was like the fourth game of the 1974 season, and as a treat my Father allowed me to stay up and watch.
My Father was keen on his boys witnessing history in all its forms.
In the fourth inning, the ball came zipping in, and then it went zipping out. Cannons fired; a couple of young men jumped the fence and patted the great man on the back as he rounded second; there were grins on their faces, knowing full well that they were not only a part of history, but they would soon be part of the docket on the Fulton County Courthouse for trespassing. The great man scowled a bit; but can you blame him? He'd been getting death threats since the Fall of 1973....he was most probably jumping out of his skin when they came at him.
He was met at home plate by his teammates, the media, and his Mother and Father. His teammates tried to hoist him onto their shoulders, but he demurred in order to approach his parents and receive the best of all possible rewards; a hug from his Mother.
He was quoted in the media as saying that he was thankful to God that it was finally over; and that he never knew his Mother could hug so tightly.
I don't remember who won the game. I probably was ordered to bed before the end of the game.
715 home runs. It was considered an impossible record to beat.
And the record still stands; the pretender to the throne is simply an asterisk as far as I'm concerned.
Hank Aaron, the Hammer is in the Hall now. Number 44 still works for the Braves organization. His #44 hangs in Cooperstown; and that section of wall that the ball sailed over is a monument in the parking lot of Turner Field.
But that lovely feeling, that tingling sensation at being thrilled and proud of a man you've never met never really goes away.
And that's one of the reasons I love baseball.
Well, that, and I love watching the Yankees take a beating.
No comments:
Post a Comment