circpro
04-10-2007, 12:57 AM
http://www.ajc.com/blogs/content/shared-blogs/ajc/sportscolumns/entries/2007/04/09/aaron_owes_bond.html
Aaron owes Bonds nothing
By Terence Moore | Monday, April 9, 2007, 08:27 PM
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Why won’t he call?
Even when we’re in Atlanta, he never comes to visit.
You mean, he can’t reach out to the younger dude pursuing his record by giving him a hug and some tips on how to handle the pressure of it all?
Those whispers from Barry Bonds over the past few days, weeks and months have left the shadows to reach the ears of Hank Aaron like a fastball. The all-time home run king (at least for the moment) responded from his residence in southwest Atlanta by slamming Bonds’ comments back toward the ozone in which they came.
Good. Oh, and Aaron did so as graciously as he once flipped his wrists to make 755 a magic number.
“I’m sorry Barry feels that way, and I don’t have any resentment toward him whatsoever, but I have no intention of trying to get in contact with him or doing anything with him in regard to his [chasing the record]. Nothing. Why should I?” said Aaron, who discovered only recently that the privately sensitive slugger for the San Francisco Giants wants to become pen pals or something. “It’s really not a big concern of mine. I don’t know why I should have to do anything. I might send him a telegram, and that would be the extent of it.”
In case you’re wondering, Aaron first heard about Bonds’ grumbling from a fairly reliable source. His name is Bud Selig, the commissioner of baseball and among Aaron’s closest friends. They’ve been tight since their Milwaukee days. Aaron played for the old Braves, Selig’s boyhood heroes, and after a stint in Atlanta from 1966 through 1974, Aaron played his final two seasons with the Brewers, the team Selig owned at the time.
But back to the present, where Aaron shrugged over whatever it is that Bonds wants him to do. “The commissioner told me that [Bonds] has asked him several times about why I haven’t contacted him,” Aaron said. “I don’t talk to anybody, really, and I’ve never talked to Barry, outside of that commercial we did together a few years ago, and a few other short times.”
Then Aaron gave one of his famous chuckles, adding, “I’m 72 years old, and I’m not hopping on a plane and flying all the way to San Francisco for anybody.”
Nor should he. Which brings us to the primary point here: If Bonds wishes to talk to Aaron, why doesn’t Bonds just pick up the phone?
Sounds like an ego problem.
A big one.
The kind that has Bonds believing he already is on the home-run throne that Aaron has owned nearly forever.
It’s a throne that Aaron consistently has said that he doesn’t mind giving up to Bonds or anybody else. Even so, when the new coronation takes place, Aaron hasn’t changed his mind about being anywhere but within a few solar systems of the place that Bonds is likely to rip No. 756.
“Uh-uh. No, no. I’m not going to be around,” said Aaron, adding that he would stay away even if Bonds were slated to break the record in Atlanta.
Aaron laughed, saying, “I’d probably fly to West Palm Beach to play golf. Again, it has nothing to do with anybody, other than I had enough of it. I don’t want to be around that sort of thing anymore. I just want to be at peace with myself. I don’t want to answer questions. It’s going to be a no-win situation for me anyway. If I go, people are going to say, ‘Well, he went because of this.’ If I don’t go, they’ll say whatever. I’ll just let them make their own mind up.”
The point is, Aaron isn’t afraid of controversy. Since the end of his career, he has evolved into Jackie Robinson, the ultimate role model for truth, justice and what should be the American Way. Not only was Robinson a baseball icon, but a civil rights icon. His No. 42 is retired by all teams in the major leagues. In fact, every game on Sunday - including the Braves’ game at Turner Field against the Florida Marlins - will honor the 60th anniversary of Robinson breaking the game’s color barrier.
Aaron remembered April 15, 1947, as the moment he became a permanent Robinson fan while growing up in segregated Mobile. Aaron also remembered the moment when Robinson passed through town to visit a local drug store. “It was the first time I ever saw him,” said Aaron, still glowing with the memory.
They never spoke back then, but they chatted often in subsequent years. “Listening to him, and just watching his movement and what he stood for and how he went about everything, I wanted to be just like him,” said Aaron, who matched his thoughts with action. After a blind Robinson, crippled with diabetes, died at 53 in October 1972, Aaron approached Ernie Banks and Willie Mays about joining him as Robinson’s replacement.
Said Aaron, “The three of us had a platform to stand on. We needed to voice our opinions. Willie being in New York [Mets], Ernie being in Chicago [Cubs], and me being where I was, we needed to make sure we didn’t give our stamp of approval on certain things that were happening.”
For instance: the token progress of African-American executives in the game, and the declining number of African-American players on the field.
Then Aaron gave that famous chuckle again, before saying, “Quite naturally, those guys [Mays and Banks] decided they weren’t going to do it. I decided that, not only do I owe it to myself, but I owe it to Jackie Robinson.”
That’s opposed to Bonds, to whom Aaron owes nothing.
Aaron owes Bonds nothing
By Terence Moore | Monday, April 9, 2007, 08:27 PM
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Why won’t he call?
Even when we’re in Atlanta, he never comes to visit.
You mean, he can’t reach out to the younger dude pursuing his record by giving him a hug and some tips on how to handle the pressure of it all?
Those whispers from Barry Bonds over the past few days, weeks and months have left the shadows to reach the ears of Hank Aaron like a fastball. The all-time home run king (at least for the moment) responded from his residence in southwest Atlanta by slamming Bonds’ comments back toward the ozone in which they came.
Good. Oh, and Aaron did so as graciously as he once flipped his wrists to make 755 a magic number.
“I’m sorry Barry feels that way, and I don’t have any resentment toward him whatsoever, but I have no intention of trying to get in contact with him or doing anything with him in regard to his [chasing the record]. Nothing. Why should I?” said Aaron, who discovered only recently that the privately sensitive slugger for the San Francisco Giants wants to become pen pals or something. “It’s really not a big concern of mine. I don’t know why I should have to do anything. I might send him a telegram, and that would be the extent of it.”
In case you’re wondering, Aaron first heard about Bonds’ grumbling from a fairly reliable source. His name is Bud Selig, the commissioner of baseball and among Aaron’s closest friends. They’ve been tight since their Milwaukee days. Aaron played for the old Braves, Selig’s boyhood heroes, and after a stint in Atlanta from 1966 through 1974, Aaron played his final two seasons with the Brewers, the team Selig owned at the time.
But back to the present, where Aaron shrugged over whatever it is that Bonds wants him to do. “The commissioner told me that [Bonds] has asked him several times about why I haven’t contacted him,” Aaron said. “I don’t talk to anybody, really, and I’ve never talked to Barry, outside of that commercial we did together a few years ago, and a few other short times.”
Then Aaron gave one of his famous chuckles, adding, “I’m 72 years old, and I’m not hopping on a plane and flying all the way to San Francisco for anybody.”
Nor should he. Which brings us to the primary point here: If Bonds wishes to talk to Aaron, why doesn’t Bonds just pick up the phone?
Sounds like an ego problem.
A big one.
The kind that has Bonds believing he already is on the home-run throne that Aaron has owned nearly forever.
It’s a throne that Aaron consistently has said that he doesn’t mind giving up to Bonds or anybody else. Even so, when the new coronation takes place, Aaron hasn’t changed his mind about being anywhere but within a few solar systems of the place that Bonds is likely to rip No. 756.
“Uh-uh. No, no. I’m not going to be around,” said Aaron, adding that he would stay away even if Bonds were slated to break the record in Atlanta.
Aaron laughed, saying, “I’d probably fly to West Palm Beach to play golf. Again, it has nothing to do with anybody, other than I had enough of it. I don’t want to be around that sort of thing anymore. I just want to be at peace with myself. I don’t want to answer questions. It’s going to be a no-win situation for me anyway. If I go, people are going to say, ‘Well, he went because of this.’ If I don’t go, they’ll say whatever. I’ll just let them make their own mind up.”
The point is, Aaron isn’t afraid of controversy. Since the end of his career, he has evolved into Jackie Robinson, the ultimate role model for truth, justice and what should be the American Way. Not only was Robinson a baseball icon, but a civil rights icon. His No. 42 is retired by all teams in the major leagues. In fact, every game on Sunday - including the Braves’ game at Turner Field against the Florida Marlins - will honor the 60th anniversary of Robinson breaking the game’s color barrier.
Aaron remembered April 15, 1947, as the moment he became a permanent Robinson fan while growing up in segregated Mobile. Aaron also remembered the moment when Robinson passed through town to visit a local drug store. “It was the first time I ever saw him,” said Aaron, still glowing with the memory.
They never spoke back then, but they chatted often in subsequent years. “Listening to him, and just watching his movement and what he stood for and how he went about everything, I wanted to be just like him,” said Aaron, who matched his thoughts with action. After a blind Robinson, crippled with diabetes, died at 53 in October 1972, Aaron approached Ernie Banks and Willie Mays about joining him as Robinson’s replacement.
Said Aaron, “The three of us had a platform to stand on. We needed to voice our opinions. Willie being in New York [Mets], Ernie being in Chicago [Cubs], and me being where I was, we needed to make sure we didn’t give our stamp of approval on certain things that were happening.”
For instance: the token progress of African-American executives in the game, and the declining number of African-American players on the field.
Then Aaron gave that famous chuckle again, before saying, “Quite naturally, those guys [Mays and Banks] decided they weren’t going to do it. I decided that, not only do I owe it to myself, but I owe it to Jackie Robinson.”
That’s opposed to Bonds, to whom Aaron owes nothing.