Forty-five years ago in late March I was sitting in a dorm room with several other guys discussing the biggest news in sports and it wasn’t the NCAA Basketball Tournament that had just ended with NC State dethroning mighty UCLA. The major league baseball season was about to begin and the mighty Babe Ruth was about to be dethroned by one Henry Aaron.
Baseball is a game of numbers and the number 714 had defined the mythical Babe as the “Sultan of Swat” for all time. They say that records are meant to be broken, but 714 career home runs was considered sacred by many and they dared anyone to challenge it. Babe Ruth, the man who had a candy bar named for him, had transformed the game of baseball from a curiosity of the few to our national pastime. He continued to be revered and adored long after his death. Babe Ruth was baseball. But this story was much deeper than a sport.
Babe Ruth personified a white man’s game. It was 12 years after Ruth played his last game when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier. The fact that the Holy Grail of baseball was about to be captured was one thing, but considering that a black man from Alabama was about to accomplish it was the stuff of social revolution.
Henry Aaron, who played for the Atlanta Braves, finished the 1973 season with 713 home runs. He only needed one more to tie the holy record. The off season had been tumultuous as Aaron received many death threats and defenders of the Babe tried to diminish his accomplishments.
The Braves were scheduled to open the season in Cincinnati, and when rumors circulated that Aaron may sit out the first few games so he could break the record at home, the Commissioner of Baseball stepped in and ordered the Braves to play Aaron. The drama continued to build.
The Braves home opener was on April 8 against the Dodgers. The small group in the dorm room discussed whether we should try to attend that game. What were the odds that April 8 would be the night that the greatest baseball record of all time would fall? We could drive to Atlanta in less than 3 hours. We finally decided that we should go. I called to see if we could get tickets.
The nice lady at the Braves office told me that only a few tickets remained for the game. After I gave her the order she said, “Okay, I have five tickets for opening night on Monday, April 8.” “Wait a minute!” I said. “Monday night?”
We didn’t realize that the game was on a Monday. That meant we would get back to school in the wee hours of the morning with classes to attend. After a quick discussion we decided to get tickets for the Friday night game. After all, chances were just as good Aaron would break the record that night.
Henry Aaron tied Babe Ruth’s record on the first pitch of the season. He returned to Atlanta on April 8 needing one home run to break the mark. We were all crowded around the TV in the dorm, watching the packed house at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium as “Hammering Hank” came to bat in the third inning. As the ball left the park and the crowd went crazy, we watched in silence as two fans jumped on the field and followed the new home run king around the bases.
Finally, one of my friends said quietly, “That could have been us.”
We went to the Friday night game. I even caught a foul ball that I have in a display box in my office. But when I see it, I think about missed opportunity. So many times life gives us an opportunity to do something great. I’ve learned not to wait, not to delay. I need to “Seize the Day” every day because 45 years later I can still hear those painful words, “It could have been us.”
