Baseball Thoughts... (Pt. 2)

Obviously, if you are a baseball fan, you know the name Henry Aaron. He set the home run record, passing Babe Ruth. In fact, I can remember it like it was yesterday, as I sat at my Aunt Edna’s house and watched on her TV as Henry Aaron swatted the ball off Al Downing that eventful night. I can still see it in my mind as he rounded the bases, being mobbed by fans and players alike, it was a bright moment for a player that had achieved so much.

My first recollection of him was hearing his name as Earl Gillespie announced and batting next, “Hank Aaron,” which came across loud and clear from Mrs. Thompson’s radio. Her son, Kenny, and I played “gas station” in the yard as she sat near us listening to the Milwaukee Braves broadcast.

Now fast forward to 1968: I had the opportunity to go on a trip with a friend from my church to go visit his mother who just happened to live in St. Louis. My friend, Chuck, loved baseball and over that weekend, the Cardinals were playing the Braves. He bought tickets and I still remember the white arched façade of the stadium, the “electronic” Cardinals that flew around on the scoreboard and landed on a baseball, and who wouldn’t be impressed by the Arch that towered over the stadium. However, the Braves were too much for the Cards on that night. I thought of Mrs. Thompson, elation for her team’s victory.

Chuck was older than I. In fact, he was a missionary in South America and was home on furlough. For me, it was my first visit to the Arch City and I was impressed by the size and activity of the city as I compared my small hometown of Sheboygan, Wisconsin to the metro area of St. Louis.

He was determined that the Braves would win and he made sure to let me know that as we finished the game. I will never forget collecting my belongings as the Cardinals made their final out and the fans started scurrying for their homes.

Let me interject here in the story: I believe we all have made one big WRONG decision. Although I admit to making mistakes in my life, the decision that night was one that I reflect on from time to time.

As we began to walk out, Chuck asked me if I would like to go down to the Braves clubhouse and meet Felipe Alou? BIG MISTAKE COMING: I responded no! What? Chuck was friends with Mr. Alou who had worked together in South America. What an opportunity gone wrong! It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet him, but I was a young shy kid at the time and meeting new people was not comfortable for me.

That night as I went to bed, I remember thinking to myself that I may have missed out on not just meeting Felipe Alou, but I may have also missed out on his clubhouse teammate, Henry Aaron. What was I thinking?

As both Mr. Alou and Mr. Aaron are no longer active players, my reflections and poor decision struck me in the forehead as I sat on my Aunt Edna’s couch and watched the Home Run King round the bases on that summer night.

My advice: If someone asks you to go meet “Felipe Alou,” just do it... just some baseball thoughts.