Class Action

Well, Barry Bonds did it. He passed Hank Aaron's magic total of 755 career home runs to become the all-time home run king. How far he'll go, nobody yet knows. But I can't help feeling sad for the game of baseball. Clouds of suspicion hang over the new record, as we all wonder just how juiced Barry was during those shockingly productive years from his late 30s to his early 40s, a time when most players are winding down their careers, cruising downhill to search for an opening to a graceful exit from the game they have played all their lives. In Bonds' case, he actually got better, more productive, as he approached 40. Something doesn't smell right, there, and it will all come out someday. But in the meantime, we have an obnoxious, needy, self-centered slugger owning the ultimate sports crown.

The picture here is a drawing of Henry Aaron by renowned sports cartoonist Bruce Stark. In the summer of '73, Mr. Stark created drawings of the Yankees and Mets that were printed in the Sunday Daily News funnies, with each week featuring a different position -- the two teams' shortstops being shown one week, and their third basemen the next.

As a kid, I copied and learned from Stark's drawings. And I learned from Mr. Aaron, too. I learned that being the best at something didn't necessarily mean having to tell people you were the best. I learned that quiet, consistent excellence could result in eventual greatness. And I learned, as he received death threats the closer he got to the great [white] Babe Ruth's record, that success and achievement did not necessarily equate with joy and happiness. In fact, it seems Mr. Aaron was quite miserable the closer he got to the immortal Babe's record, hiding his wife and children from journalists and the potential crazy person who might want to do them harm.

When Barry Bonds broke Hammerin' Hank's record this past week, Mr. Aaron made a rather surprising appearance on the video scoreboard to congratulate his successor. Surprising because he had seemed so dead set against being a part of the circus surrounding Bonds' pursuit of the record amid allegations of illegal performance enhancers [read: steroids]. In the end, Mr. Aaron proved to be as filled with class as one could be. He graciously congratulated Bonds, while maintaining a polite and understandable distance from the whole thing.

The point could be moot in five to six years if Alex Rodriguez keeps up his pace and passes Bonds, with a steroids-free record and a much more gracious personality.

All in all, the events of the past week made me sad for baseball today, and made me even prouder of my childhood hero with the quiet dignity, unparalleled consistency and admirable class. Mr. Aaron has been surpassed. Long live Mr. Aaron.