My Memory of Hank Aaron

I must write this. I don't have a choice. People who know me well have already flooded my in-box and text messages today, for they know how much I loved Hank Aaron. The photo I've posted here is autographed, and it hangs on my home office wall. During our pandemic year, I see it every day. And I smile.

I received this photograph in the early 1970's. Hank was my boyhood idol. I used to write letters to him. In those letters, I'd ask him to be my dad. I'd lie awake at night in my single digit years, and I'd unfailingly listen to the Atlanta baseball team on AM radio. In my memory, I was their biggest fan. And as I struggled to stay up, I'd hope for just one more at bat by my hero, Hank. If he could just have one more at-bat, my woeful team might just win another game. If he were scheduled up 4th or 5th in the 9th inning, there was always a chance if only someone else could get on base. He could hit a home run.

Maybe I was already an optimist. Or maybe Hank made me an optimist.

I didn't know it back then, but Hank was subjected to hate mail and death threats at the same time that I was sending him love letters. And then one day in the US mail, this photo arrived. I remember it like yesterday. It was nearly 50 years ago.

On April 8, 1974, I danced for joy in my pajamas in my family's den as Hank hit #715 and broke Babe Ruth's record. Back then, we received 3 channels, only 1 of which was a clear signal. We didn't have sports on every day like we do today. So it was that rare moment in time at the beginning of a season where a national network carried the game. I wouldn't have missed it for the world, even on the fuzzy channel. And when I say I danced for joy, I think it's safe to say that I rounded the imaginary bases -- over and over again -- in my den.

But what does any of this have anything to do with business? For me, a lot. Hank Aaron embodied excellence and grace, even in the face of dark adversity. In Hank, I witnessed the joy of competition, discovered the importance of endurance, and realized the power of resilience.

On my final interview to join KPMG as a partner ages ago, I remember the interviewing partner in New York asked me, "What drives you?" My answer -- one word: "Competition." Thanks to Hank!

So when I received the news today that Hank had passed away -- when my adult children, who know how much I revered Hank, reached out to tell me in the middle of my work day -- I could only express one emotion: sadness. I am sad.

But that's okay -- because, like I saw Hank get back up time after time after time again, I too will get up again. Knocked down? No worries. Back up at it tomorrow. Life is good.

To my boyhood idol, Hank -- Rest in peace. To Hank's family -- Thank you for sharing him with all of us. I join with you in the blessed hope that one day all will be made new.

My agent for my poetry avocation has already texted me to say "Can't wait to read the poem you write about Hank." Yes, one day, I will have to write that poem. It will take some time. And when I do, it will be an "Ode" -- "An Ode to Hammerin' Hank"