The Ugliest Baseball Hank Aaron Ever Autographed
He broke the all time home run record before I was born, but I did get to see Hank Aaron play once, at an old timers game in Washington DC sometime in the early-to-mid ‘80s. That is where where he signed the ugliest baseball Hank Aaron ever autographed.
There was no baseball team in Washington then, and driving from our home in Northern Virginia to North Baltimore for an Orioles game was an impossibility given my parents work schedules. So I didn’t get to see much baseball in person. But when an Old Timers game at RFK Stadium in DC was announced, my dad made sure to grab tickets.
I was probably 10 or so, but I had heard about a lot of the players. My dad had grown up in Milwaukee in the 1950s and had seen Aaron play many times, so I had heard stories of Hammerin’ Hank, the greatest home run hitter ever. I remember being excited to see a lot of the players, but Aaron was the guy.
Before going to the game, my dad told us to bring baseballs, just in case. I remember searching around the house, trying to find a clean baseball, but there wasn’t one. We’d used them all in the backyard playing catch, throwing pop-ups, throwing balls 20 feet over each other’s heads trying to figure out how to throw a curve. All the balls were filthy from repeatedly slamming into dirt and mud, scuffed from crashing into bricks and sheds and trees. But because a filthy baseball was better than no baseball, I grabbed one, and out the door we went.
I don’t remember much of the game. I have a program in a drawer somewhere in my parents house that could probably fill in some of the cracks in my memory, but that’s on the other side of the country. But of this I’m sure: some time in the middle of the game in between one of the innings, there was a commotion along the baselines. A crowd had formed spontaneously not far from our seats. My younger brother and I ran down the aisle to see what was going on. And it was Aaron! And he was signing!
My brother and I both had baseballs in our hands, because of course we did, but as we slipped into the crowd, the crush of people was too much for me. I could see Aaron through the arms and around the heads in front of me, but I couldn’t get to him. My brother though was smaller than me and slipped through the crush and out of my view. Many moments passed with me standing there, watching Aaron, wishing I could get closer, and then a small, disembodied hand appeared through the mass of people. I placed my ratty old ball into that hand which quickly disappeared.
More moments passed. When I saw Aaron trot back to the field a few moments later my heart sank. Then the crowd dispersed and my brother appeared. He was holding this
Look at that thing! It’s a crappy ball anyway, not worthy of Aaron’s autograph even when it was new, but all scuffed up and covered in Virginia mud? It’s like asking a four star chef to prepare dinner using plastic utensils, or telling the President that, hey, sorry, Air Force One isn’t available, so he’ll have to get to his Very Important event with this kid's tricycle. What must Aaron have thought when my brother handed it to him? What could my brother possibly have said? “Thank you for signing my baseball, sir. Would you please wait a minute while I go back through the crowd? My brother has a dirt clod he’d like you to autograph as well.”
Pretty nice of Hammerin' Hank to wait, though. I’ll never forget that.
RIP
Great story. I grew up in CT, and was fortunate enough to see Aaron hit a homer at Shea Stadium in 1975. He was with the Brewers and facing the Yankees, who played two seasons at Shea while the Stadium was being renovated. Aaron was much more than a slugger. Tremendous defensive OF and a great base runner. And ridiculously consistent. Without checking, I think he had 20 consecutive seasons of 20+ HR