The Last Hero A Life of Henry Aaron - book

The Last Hero A Life of Henry Aaron, by Howard Bryant (Pantheon Books, New York, 2010).

Let me begin with a disclaimer. I am not a baseball aficionado. I never watch it, do not follow it, and only rarely even watch a definitive World Series game. Even so, I am not so far removed as to be unaware of Henry Aaron and his remarkable career as a baseball player, as well as his famous home run record and those remarkable wrists that made it possible. There is too much baseball in this book for my needs, but there is much more to this fine biography than baseball.
The Henry Aaron story is probably one of the worst, if not the all-time worst case of stereotypy ever, and it haunted and punished Aaron all his life. When he first arrived in the major leagues, as a result of his unusual success as a hitter in the minors, he was featured in an article by a sports writer who not only brought his prejudice with him but was also either unable or unwilling to distinguish between ignorance and stupidity. He portrayed Aaron as just another gifted but not very bright black athlete, a portrait that poisoned Aaron’s attempts to ever be anything else. This writer apparently did not consider that Henry Aaron was barely 20 years old, a High School drop-out, raised in Mobile, Alabama, where Jim Crow was still alive and viciously active, and had been taught all his life to be wary of and distrust Whites. Being shy and reticent, he obviously did not come across well in an interview, did not like or enjoy speaking in public, and was in fact ignorant of many things in life. As a result of this shamelessly careless portrayal, Henry Aaron went through his 23 seasons as a major league star known as a hitter, but not as a man, or even as a person. Remember, Jackie Robinson had broken the color line, but major league baseball was still not integrated. The few black players had separate quarters, could not live in the same parts of town where their White teammates resided, didn’t shower with them, their lockers were apart, and there were no White/Black roommates. In many ways, both subtle and not so subtle, Black players suffered racial taunts, insults, mistreatments of all kinds, and, being Black, knew they could not display anger or retaliate. As Aaron proved season after season his incredible ability to hit a baseball things slowly changed for him, but he knew it was only because of his hitting. The more he suffered the more bitter and withdrawn he became, and the more withdrawn he became the more the stereotype was reinforced. All his life he struggled to be known for more than just a baseball player. But even when he did begin to speak out on issues of the day it was assumed he was put up to it by Jesse Jackson or his second wife, Billye, who was also an activist.

Henry Aaron was by no means stupid, and in private or in small groups he came across as intelligent, quick-witted, with a dry sense of humor, an infectious laugh and smile, and a great deal of self-confidence. As he became increasingly famous, and only after his active career was over, he began to meet important people such as Ted Turner (whose ignorance of baseball was so profound he offered Aaron an important executive position with the Atlanta Braves, unaware that Blacks were not regarded by the leagues as competent to hold such jobs), Jimmy Carter and later Bill Clinton, who asked him for help in his successful campaign. Having been financially cheated at times, Aaron finally found an advisor whom he trusted and became a successful businessman, and still later, a philanthropist. Rewards he had been denied began arriving regularly. He made the Baseball Hall of Fame, his childhood home became a Baseball Museum, he was influential and listened to seriously at last. But even all of his later-in-life successes could not completely erase the bitterness of the years of racial animosity, the hundreds of death threats he received when he was about to break Babe Ruth’s home run record, the unfair comparisons being made still to this day.

In addition to being a consummate baseball player, Aaron was a paragon of dignity and honor all his life. It was this that ultimately made him the hero he became. During the 1990’s when baseball, seeking to maximize profits, encouraged the great home run battles between Mark McQuire and Sammy Sosa, as well as the Barry Bonds extravaganza. While this worked for the box office it was soon exposed as the fraud it was and the heavy hitters were all known to have used performance enhancing drugs. Of course they all denied it but the evidence became irrefutable. Thus Bond’s breaking Aaron’s home run record was questionable at best and entirely dishonest at worst. Henry Aaron refused to take sides in the controversy, knowing that if he endorsed Bonds he would be seen as endorsing steroids, and if he criticized him he would be seen as a bitter and jealous rival. He turned down huge offers of money to appear with Bonds to promote this phony record, but finally agreed to at least write a polite letter of congratulations. The outcome of this was the re-examination of Aaron’s career and statistics, all accomplished without the use of artificial aids, making him still the legitimate owner of the home run record, the “Last Hero.”

Possessing the home run record is a mixed blessing. In addition to the death threats and racial insults, it also contributed again to the failure of people to understand the man and the person, Henry Aaron. Most cannot see beyond the awesome records, especially home runs. It was not until he was 75 years old that he felt a moment of freedom:

“Not too long ago, we went away for fifteen days on a cruise to the Panama Canal (he said)…I remember when the boat was in the Canal, in that narrow space. I looked out at the blue ocean and saw the birds swoop down into the water and then settle on the land. And then I understood how much I wanted to be like them, free. I leaned over to my wife and I told her that at that very moment that I finally felt like them. No one was asking me about baseball. The people that were around us weren’t interested in me because I played baseball. I was free as a bird. And I told my wife. I said, ‘I’ve never felt this free in my life.’”

An unusual Black man’s burden was lifted, if only for a few short days.

One final comment on the sub-title, “A” Life of Henry Aaron,” rather than “The” Life of Henry Aaron, which implies to me there may be other lives of Henry Aaron. I doubt this was intended, but in a sense it could be true. If another biographer had written a biography of Aaron it might well have been different. But as for me, I am quite content with this one, probably definitive, and I think you will be also.