Who among you has seen tape of Hank Aaron’s 715th home run?
Many, I assume. It has to qualify as one of baseball’s most reviewed moments.
Those with a passion for the game’s history can easily detail the scene’s co-stars: the pitcher (Al Downing), the catcher (Joe Ferguson), the on-deck hitter (Dusty Baker) and the reliever (Tom House) who caught the historic shot. Let’s not forget the two civilians who shared a portion of Aaron’s home-run trot.
It was a single home run that produced a buffet of enduring images. One, in particular, stands out for me: Aaron’s mom bounding through a crowd of ball players to get to her son. Estella Aaron put a clamp on the new home run king a mother often saves for the day you leave for college.
Aaron himself later admitted he had no idea where his mom came from. This from a man who had tight security after receiving countless death threats during the final stages of the chase.
What Estella Aaron showed us is that the essence of Little League – mom and dad yelling encouragement from beyond the chain-link fence – does not disappear at the big-league level. There are just a few more people standing along the fence.
You may recall Bobby Ray’s Major-League debut with the Blue Jays last month against Baltimore. Sportsnet cameras caught his dad, Robert, practically slither under his seat after the Orioles’ Adam Jones hit a first-inning home run.
Soon after his debut with the Blue Jays in 2006, Casey Janssen told me the only voice he could hear among 25,000 at Rogers Centre was that of his dad, Jack.
And when the Dodgers played at the Los Angeles Coliseum, Don Drysdale routinely pitched in front of 50,000. Still, if he unknowingly dropped his arm, he claimed a single whistle from his father was the reminder to correct the flaw.
Drysdale’s dad would have loved modern technology, because there’s no reason to miss a game anymore. I was reminded of this last June.
Soon after the Cincinnati Reds had played in Toronto, I got a call from Joe Votto, father of the Reds’ first baseman. Joe was looking for a DVD of one of Joey’s games, so I suggested we communicate by email. A few days later, I was at home watching the Cubs host the Reds when an email popped on to my computer. It was Joe.
I replied: “Funny you should write now. I’m watching your son play the Cubs.”
“Me too! He loves playing at Wrigley,” was his response.
God bless active parents. With Father's Day on the horizon, you may have a story or two about their involvement in your love of baseball. If so, feel free to share them below.
