The Last Hero_ A Life Of Henry Aaron Part 5

After the trip, Henry returned to Mobile. He worked at Carver Park, the old playground a few blocks from his house, as a recreation supervisor for the city, busy working, with a goal in mind: the batting t.i.tle. During the early years of his time, before the home run became the definitive measure of a hitter, batting for average was a far more important barometer of a hitter's true ability than hitting for power. It was a combination of hits and power in the tradition of Musial and DiMaggio that was the mark of a true hitter. Anybody could run into one and yank it over the fence, but it took an accomplished batsman to back it all up with a consistently high level of hitting. That's why Musial was so great. Musial would win the batting t.i.tle seven times, and six times would lead the National League in hits. And he was no Punch-and-Judy hitter. Musial led the league in doubles eight times, triples five times, and though he would never hit 40 home runs in a single season, he would wind up with 475 home runs.

For the bulk of his career, more than Mays, more than Williams, Clemente, or even Ruth, Musial would be Henry's standard of success. When he dreamed about records during the first half of his career, it was not with Ruth in mind, but Musial's National League record for hits.

In early January, Quinn sent Henry his contract for 1956, which called for a salary of twelve thousand dollars. Aaron sent the contract back in the mail, he said, with a note to Quinn that read, "You must have sent me O'Connell's contract by mistake." He would sign for seventeen thousand dollars that season. At home, he enjoyed something of the celebrity life, but the humiliating reminders of Mobile were always close. Six days after sporting the tux at the Wisconsin Club, he was named "Negro mayor" of Mobile for Mardi Gras, the signature event of New Orleans, but whose American roots dated back to 1702, when Mobile was the first capital of the Louisiana Territory. Henry was the guest of honor for dinner at the Elks Club. But Mobile's withering segregation rules immediately reduced Henry, and an incident ensued that he would carry with him for the next half century.

The Elks Club invitation came with a condition: He would be a welcome guest of the club for one night only one night only and could bring no guests. When he arrived with Herbert, his father was not allowed entry to see his son's big night. When the evening was complete, Henry would not be allowed to leave the building through the front door with the white guests. Herbert was not just turned away at the door; he was instructed to meet Henry at the back entrance. Henry never forgot this slight. It was America at its most contradictory-saluting excellence while demeaning the individual. and could bring no guests. When he arrived with Herbert, his father was not allowed entry to see his son's big night. When the evening was complete, Henry would not be allowed to leave the building through the front door with the white guests. Herbert was not just turned away at the door; he was instructed to meet Henry at the back entrance. Henry never forgot this slight. It was America at its most contradictory-saluting excellence while demeaning the individual.

The hype for 1956 started in January at the Wisconsin Club and continued when the trucks rolled out of County Stadium for Bradenton. Lou Perini may have been unsure about Charlie Grimm, and the rest of the league had its doubts that the Braves were capable of staring down the Dodgers, but apart from complaints about his charisma level, no one in baseball took a dissenting view of Henry.

Barbara did not join Henry in Bradenton. She was aware of the local customs, and the routine of having to walk around the outside of the park to the colored entrance (which was hardly an entrance as much as it was a wooden fence slat that had been removed to allow blacks to enter-at full price, of course) would have been too humiliating. She did not want to listen to the jeers and the jibes from the adjacent white sections of Ninth Street Park. She remained in Mobile until the regular season started and the team headed up north.

FOR MOST OF his postcareer life, Henry-and even more pa.s.sionately his supporters and teammates-would bristle at the lack of star power that accompanied his accomplishments. They would call him the most underrated superstar of all time, a man who never received proper respect for everything he had done in the game. Johnny Logan would tell anyone who would listen that Aaron, day in and out, was a better player than Mays. his postcareer life, Henry-and even more pa.s.sionately his supporters and teammates-would bristle at the lack of star power that accompanied his accomplishments. They would call him the most underrated superstar of all time, a man who never received proper respect for everything he had done in the game. Johnny Logan would tell anyone who would listen that Aaron, day in and out, was a better player than Mays.

"All Mays had over Henry71 was was flash," flash," Logan would say, as if star power was valueless. Logan would say, as if star power was valueless.

Yet, in later years, Henry would reflect on those years and conclude that he was was something of a hotshot, after all, the rising star in the same cla.s.s as Mantle and Mays. He really was the can't-miss. The personal awards were piling up-MVP in Jacksonville in 1953, team Rookie of the Year in 1954 (Henry's first invitation to the Wisconsin Club), all-star and team MVP in 1955, before he was twenty-two-and he may not have known the details, but he knew he had value. Had he been unaware that he was being projected as an all-time great, he likely would never have sent Quinn's contracts back with sarcastic notes attached. something of a hotshot, after all, the rising star in the same cla.s.s as Mantle and Mays. He really was the can't-miss. The personal awards were piling up-MVP in Jacksonville in 1953, team Rookie of the Year in 1954 (Henry's first invitation to the Wisconsin Club), all-star and team MVP in 1955, before he was twenty-two-and he may not have known the details, but he knew he had value. Had he been unaware that he was being projected as an all-time great, he likely would never have sent Quinn's contracts back with sarcastic notes attached.

Branch Rickey, the bushy-eyed Mahatma who was running the Pirates, had tried during the 1955 season to buy Henry from the Braves, offering Perini $150,000. Had he accepted, the Pirate outfield would have featured Aaron and the newest Rickey prospect, a gifted Puerto Rican outfielder who went by the name of Clemente. The careers of Clemente and Aaron would always circle each other. When Clemente was a teenager and Aaron was tearing up the Sally League, it was the Braves that offered Clemente three times what the Dodgers put forth. But Clemente desired to play in New York more than he wanted money.

The problem of perception had nothing to do with Henry's skills, which were universally admired. The problem was that there was always a new boy on the street-someone with a prettier swing or a better press agent, somebody with more panache, a stronger arm, or that special intangible you built magic around.

This time, in the spring of 1956, when Henry came to Bradenton, las.h.i.+ng line drives and fully healthy, it was another Robinson from California he encountered, this one in the Cincinnati system. His name was Frank and he was from Oakland, where, like Mobile, ballplayers seemed to grow out of the ground. Robinson had been a two-sport star at McClymonds High, on Oakland's west side, the alma mater of Bill Russell, the star basketball player. Oakland would always be fertile baseball territory, and Cincinnati had hit the trifecta. In addition to Robinson, the Reds had just signed a young black center fielder from Oakland Technical High named Curtis Flood, and they had the inside track on another McClymonds kid everyone was talking about: Vada Pinson.

Frank Robinson was listed as being six one and weighing 190 pounds, just an inch and ten pounds bigger than Aaron, but he was built like a football player and possessed an intimidating presence. Where Henry was slender in the arms and calves and thicker in the waist, Frank Robinson carried his muscle in his chest and shoulders. Virtually overnight, Henry's stage grew crowded even before the curtain went up. Mays was omnipresent, Banks. .h.i.t for more power than any National League shortstop, and now the word was this kid Robinson might be so good that the down-and-out Reds could even make a little noise. The hype machine was always looking for fresh material, especially during spring training, when for every legend born, thirty never produced a thing.

ERNIE W WHITE, the old pitcher who won seventeen games for the Cardinals in 1941 and was a teammate of Warren Spahn in Boston, was the first to feed the machine enthusiastically, this time in an INS news wire item on March 17, 1956. After watching big Frank tattoo a couple of b.a.l.l.s, White gushed, and in the process, he started a trend that would hound Henry Aaron for his entire career.

ROBBY HAS REDS BUZZING72Ernie White, former hurler for the St. Louis Cardinals and the Boston Bees who managed Robinson last year at Columbia, added:"I was managing Columbia when Hank Aaron tore the Sally League apart for Jacksonville. Robinson can outdo Aaron in everything. He'll outrun him and he'll outhit him. He has great power to all fields."

During spring training, Henry seemed especially focused on the Dodgers, perhaps just to show that at least one member of the Braves wasn't intimidated by Newcombe or Drysdale, Robinson or the moment. Henry dominated the champs all spring, hitting .552 against them, including four home runs. Walt Alston, the Dodger manager and Aaron admirer, said, "What's more, he's likely to hit .552 all season."

Even Robinson, ferocious compet.i.tor that he was, understood Henry possessed the ability to be feared, and he was forced to give a tip of the cap. Roger Kahn recalled a story about Henry stealing second base during spring training that year. When he swiped second a second time, Robinson landed on Henry, pinned him hard to the dirt, and began filling Henry's spikes with handfuls of dirt.

"Jackie, what are you doing?"73 Henry cried. Henry cried.

"I'm making sure you don't steal on me again."

CERTAINLY, there were chances for populism, magical opportunities for the words and deeds to meld, chances to be beautiful. Look Look magazine loved Aaron, naming him "a lock" to win the batting t.i.tle. "Hank is a '3-L hitter': lean, loose and lethal," the magazine said. "His batting secret is his supple, powerful wrists." magazine loved Aaron, naming him "a lock" to win the batting t.i.tle. "Hank is a '3-L hitter': lean, loose and lethal," the magazine said. "His batting secret is his supple, powerful wrists." The Chicago Defender The Chicago Defender, the influential black newspaper, ran an AP story, following Look's Look's lead, predicting Henry would win the batting crown. lead, predicting Henry would win the batting crown.

AARON PICKED TO WIN74.

NATIONAL BATTING t.i.tLESome of the keenest baseball observers are convinced that the leading hitter ... will be a 22-year-old ... outfielder for the Milwaukee Braves. This un.o.btrusive athlete is Hank Aaron.Aaron does not have the dramatic flair of Willie Mays or the oversized press buildup of Mickey Mantle.

The AP continued the drumbeat, comparing him to white stars like Hall of Famers Paul Waner and Joe Medwick (so what if the comparison to Ducky was a tad backhanded, ripping Henry for his Medwick-like ability to stretch the strike zone from his ankles to his forehead and points north). Best of all, there was the bus ride back north to Milwaukee and the start of the campaign, when Bob Wolf, the Journal Journal beat man who was moonlighting for beat man who was moonlighting for The Sporting News The Sporting News, sat with Grimm for what must have been hours. Grimm believed the Braves were going to win the pennant, and he told Wolf just how they were going to do it, how despite Conley's fragile arm, the pitching would be better than ever and that pitching was how champions.h.i.+ps were won. Grimm chewed Wolf's ear about how the Braves young guns were going to be a threat for years, well into the 1960s, sizzling past the Dodgers, the Reds, the Cardinals, all of them. But his most melodic tones were saved for his twenty-two-year-old right fielder.

"Aaron," Charlie Grimm said. "Aaron, of course, is the prize."

GRIMM BELIEVED and the Braves believed, but when opening day neared, the scribes weren't sold. Maybe they didn't want to get burned again (the year before, the writers had said the Braves had arrived, only to eat crow after the first week of the season). The New York hold on the World Series, at least in the minds of the writers, wasn't going to be broken in 1956, with the fierce-swinging Henry or without him. and the Braves believed, but when opening day neared, the scribes weren't sold. Maybe they didn't want to get burned again (the year before, the writers had said the Braves had arrived, only to eat crow after the first week of the season). The New York hold on the World Series, at least in the minds of the writers, wasn't going to be broken in 1956, with the fierce-swinging Henry or without him.

DODGERS, YANKS PICKED TO WIN75 FLAGS BY FLAGS BY.

FOUR OF EVERY FIVE WRITERS IN POLLThe vote of 109 writers who "experted" the pennant races for The a.s.sociated Press was so lopsided it was almost no contest.... The Yanks had eighty-eight firsts and Brooklyn had eighty-six. A similar poll of 110 writers a year ago predicted pennants for the Cleveland Indians and Milwaukee Braves.

THE 1956 CURTAIN went up on a drizzly afternoon, April 17, and Henry immediately set about his business. The first victim was Bob Rush of the Chicago Cubs. Aaron drove in the game's first run in the fourth and then broke Rush in the sixth. Rush had appeared to be breezing toward the seventh: two quick outs and a 10 lead. Aaron took a strike and then roped a long homer to make it 20. Shaken, Rush fell apart. Thomson singled. Adc.o.c.k hit another homer to make it 30, and Bruton tripled. Rush headed to the showers and the Braves cruised to a 60 win. went up on a drizzly afternoon, April 17, and Henry immediately set about his business. The first victim was Bob Rush of the Chicago Cubs. Aaron drove in the game's first run in the fourth and then broke Rush in the sixth. Rush had appeared to be breezing toward the seventh: two quick outs and a 10 lead. Aaron took a strike and then roped a long homer to make it 20. Shaken, Rush fell apart. Thomson singled. Adc.o.c.k hit another homer to make it 30, and Bruton tripled. Rush headed to the showers and the Braves cruised to a 60 win.

The Braves swept the Cubs three straight, and it seemed that maybe Charlie had a better handle on his team than Perini thought. Grimm's charges won nine out of twelve, but everything seemed just a bit off. Rain wiped out a week of games, and every hot start was followed by a sputter. The Braves were 137 after twenty games, in first place, during which time the Dodgers couldn't get out of their own way. But instead of building on the lead, the Braves fell back, getting demolished in a doubleheader by the Pirates (Pittsburgh again) again) 50 and 138. 50 and 138.

In the opener of a Memorial Day weekend doubleheader at Wrigley, the Braves tied a big-league record by hitting three consecutive home runs in the first inning. Mathews. .h.i.t a two-out homer off the short-fused former Dodger Russ Meyer. Henry followed with another and Bobby Thomson yanked yet another over the left-field fence. Meyer, now breathing fire, guaranteed his next pitch would stay in the park by throwing a strike off Bruton's right cheekbone. Bruton crumpled. After a moment, he steadied himself with his bat, took a few wobbly steps toward first base, then raced toward Meyer. Bruton dropped the bat and caught Meyer with a left to the body. Grimm raced from the third-base coaching box and corralled Meyer by the neck. As the benches cleared, Meyer and Bruton kicked each other at the bottom of the pile. The Chicago Defender Chicago Defender would call the brawl a "near riot." Aaron, years later, would call it the worst fight he'd ever seen. would call the brawl a "near riot." Aaron, years later, would call it the worst fight he'd ever seen. The Sporting News The Sporting News said Meyer and Bruton fought to a "split decision" but that the big loser was battered and bruised Charlie Grimm, who paid the price for trying to make the peace. said Meyer and Bruton fought to a "split decision" but that the big loser was battered and bruised Charlie Grimm, who paid the price for trying to make the peace.

Nothing could awaken the Braves like a good fight. They hit five homers that night but lost the game 109. The next night, Thomson hit two more and Henry exploded with a homer, a double, three RBIs, and three runs scored in an 119 demolition of the Cubs.

In the finale, a 158 win the next afternoon, the Braves led 140 after four innings and, in a ten-inning span over the two-game onslaught, hit seven seven homers off one guy, sad-sack Cubs hurler Warren Hacker. In the three games, the Braves. .h.i.t fourteen home runs, incited the Cubs to fisticuffs, and had their best record of the season at 1910. They were in first place, with six fewer losses than the Dodgers. A power display, plus wins, and punching out the other team added up to the sort of weekend that provided the best kind of energy boost for a club. Plus, the Braves were coming home for fifteen games against lowly Pittsburgh, the Dodgers (a chance for an early knockout, perhaps?), Mays and the Giants, and the hard-luck Phillies. homers off one guy, sad-sack Cubs hurler Warren Hacker. In the three games, the Braves. .h.i.t fourteen home runs, incited the Cubs to fisticuffs, and had their best record of the season at 1910. They were in first place, with six fewer losses than the Dodgers. A power display, plus wins, and punching out the other team added up to the sort of weekend that provided the best kind of energy boost for a club. Plus, the Braves were coming home for fifteen games against lowly Pittsburgh, the Dodgers (a chance for an early knockout, perhaps?), Mays and the Giants, and the hard-luck Phillies.

But in the opener, Spahn took a 10 lead into the eighth against the Pirates and gave up four runs in a 41 loss. Something was wrong with the meal ticket. He had started the season 30 and was now 34. "You didn't even worry about Spahn,"76 recalled Gene Conley. "Even before spring training began, you penciled him in for his twenty wins, because he was doing the same thing. To see him not win, you had to wonder a little bit." Pittsburgh beat Conley the following day and then split a doubleheader the next to take three of four. recalled Gene Conley. "Even before spring training began, you penciled him in for his twenty wins, because he was doing the same thing. To see him not win, you had to wonder a little bit." Pittsburgh beat Conley the following day and then split a doubleheader the next to take three of four.

Then came the Dodgers, who were 2019, the defending champs standing in place. These were the games where great teams both revealed themselves and could use the emotional currency of winning to deflate their opponents in future meetings. In the opener, in front of a buzzing, nervous 27,788 souls, Sal Maglie led Burdette 10 in the eighth before Lew gave up homers to Pee Wee Reese and Gil Hodges, while Maglie walked away with a complete-game, three-hit shutout. Perini stood and smoldered as the home folks who were good for complimentary dry cleaning booed his team. The catcalls increased the next day, when Roger Craig beat Spahn 61 on a two-hitter. Spahn had collected just one out in the second inning and was gone. He was now 35, but the guy whom fans wanted to see with an apple in his mouth was Grimm. When Newcombe beat Conley 52, the Braves were 16 on the home stand and suddenly in fourth place.

Expectations had swallowed them whole, and under the weight of having to perform, the Braves were disintegrating. Spahn told writers that the team was under "terrible tension." Charlie Root, the Braves pitching coach, who had played for Grimm's pennant winners with the Cubs in 1932 and 1935, the man who went back decades with Grimm, said the skipper was "jittery" and that he had been able to feel the tension on the club since joining the team before spring training. Following a 72 loss against the Giants-when Adc.o.c.k and Logan made errors in a four-run third-John Quinn told Grimm he wanted to talk to the team. Like a dad scolding his little kid, Quinn made Grimm sit in the clubhouse and listen while he let the Braves have it. They weren't hustling, Quinn said. Quinn looked around the room-at Aaron and Mathews, Burdette and Spahn and the rest-frothing that they were "letting down the fans" and "letting down the club as well."

When Quinn finished setting fire to their tail feathers, a somber Grimm closed the door and told his boys, "I may not be here much longer, but as long as I am, n.o.body is going to tell you fellas anything like that. You are hustling. You're hustling so much that you're pressing. I know darn well that you want to win as much as anybody."

Against the Giants, Spahn lost again, 31 to Johnny Antonelli, the man traded for the plummeting Thomson. Playing left, Henry committed an error and, representing the tying run, flied out to left to end the game. Before the final game of the home stand, Grimm composed himself, confronted Quinn, and told him he'd had no right to dress down his team. That was Charlie's way. Quinn and Perini had never played the game at the big-league level and, as far as he was concerned, they didn't know how hard it was. He was the manager, but the player in Charlie Grimm always ruled. In the meeting, Grimm was fired up, and he decided he wanted answers. He wanted to know where he stood as the manager, not just on that day but in the future. He wanted an a.s.surance that Quinn would leave his team alone and let him manage. What he got instead was a phone call from Perini, who said coldly, "We're going to discuss your case when you get to New York."

Spahn finished the home stand by striking out ten in a 52 win over the Giants to snap the losing streak and save face. Willie went three for three with a homer, but the Braves had finally won a game. Even so, the Milwaukee fans didn't bring milk and cheese to the yard, but more boos. In losing ten of the fifteen games of the home stand, Milwaukee scored forty-one runs. In those three games against the Cubs alone, the Braves had scored thirty-five. They may have been only two games out after the carnage, but the Braves had come home in first place and now left for the longest road trip of the year in fifth, officially in the second division behind Cincinnati, St. Louis, Pittsburgh, and the Dodgers. The Braves. .h.i.t the road with a record of 2420. The first stop-and the last for Charlie Grimm-was Brooklyn.

Once in Brooklyn, the end came quickly. In the opener, Friday night, June 15, Perini watched from the Ebbets Field press box during the game and was pelted with questions by the blood-smelling reporters.

"Are you prepared to say that Grimm77 is your manager for the rest of the year?" is your manager for the rest of the year?"

"I am prepared to say nothing."

"Are you thinking about making a change?"

"I'm not prepared to say anything about that, either."

BURDETTE STONED THE Dodgers for seven innings, up 42 in the eighth. But with one out, Rocky Nelson (batting average, .208) homered and Hodges walked. Grimm sent for Dave Jolly, who walked Campanella and gave up the game-tying single to Furillo. In the bottom of the ninth, Lou Sleater got Pee Wee Reese, but Duke Snider doubled. Randy Jackson was walked intentionally and Nelson grounded out. Dodgers for seven innings, up 42 in the eighth. But with one out, Rocky Nelson (batting average, .208) homered and Hodges walked. Grimm sent for Dave Jolly, who walked Campanella and gave up the game-tying single to Furillo. In the bottom of the ninth, Lou Sleater got Pee Wee Reese, but Duke Snider doubled. Randy Jackson was walked intentionally and Nelson grounded out.

If Perini was still unsure what to do with his manager, what happened next sealed the fate of Charlie Grimm. With Snider on third and Jackson on second and two out in a tie game, Grimm ordered Charlie Root out to the mound to replace Sleater with Ernie Johnson. With forty-one years in the game, Grimm's logic was sound: Campanella followed Hodges, and the left-handed Sleater would not face the right-handed Campanella.

Except that Rube Walker, the lefty, had already replaced Campanella in the top of the inning. Now, with the losing run on third, Grimm had put himself in the disadvantageous position, his right-handed pitcher facing the lefty Walker. Root was halfway to the pitching mound and Johnson had left the bull pen when Grimm pulled the fire alarm, yelling frantically for Root to get back to the dugout. But the switch had already been signaled to home plate umpire Artie Gore. Grimm caught a lucky break when Gore allowed him to rescind the switch, leaving the lefty Sleater to face the lefty Walker. The Dodger manager, Walter Alston, went ballistic, telling Gore he was playing the game under protest. But it didn't matter. Lefty or righty, protest or not, brain cramp forgiven, fate still had other plans for Charlie Grimm. Sleater threw a first-pitch fastball, which Walker ripped for the game-winning base hit. The Braves lost anyway, 54.

After the game, Perini left the press box, muttering, "We're not getting as much out of this club as we should."

The denouement came the next afternoon, with Roger Craig shutting Milwaukee down again, 20 in the eighth. Adc.o.c.k banged a pinch homer to make it 21 and Mathews singled to tie it. The Dodgers did it again in the bottom of the inning when Snider homered off Ernie Johnson. The Braves put two on in the top of the ninth, but Bruton grounded out to second to end it. In the span of two weeks, the Braves had lost twelve out of seventeen, and against their rivals, the Dodgers, the team they knew they had to beat in order to be considered big-league, champions.h.i.+p-level, Milwaukee was 15.

When the game ended, Perini invited the Milwaukee writers to his suite at the Commodore Hotel for a drink. Shortly after they arrived, Grimm walked in and told the group he was finished. "I've decided to give someone else a crack at this job."

He was out. It wasn't Durocher, however, who walked through the clubhouse door the next night, but one of his old disciples, white-haired, five-foot-five-inch Fred Haney. Haney had joined the Braves as a coach to start the season, after having managed the Pirates the previous three years, the same Pirate team whose success against the Braves in 1955 had cost them the pennant. Haney was now the boss.

As for Perini, he lamented how his little mom-and-pop baseball operation had succ.u.mbed to the sudden hunger of the fans and a flash flood of expectations.

"I can't understand the people," he said. "We get two or three games behind and they want Charlie to be fired or they want him to resign. I think it's a terrible thing."

The truth, as always, was quite different. The fans wanted Grimm's scalp, in no small part because it was Perini who had whipped up the expectations in the first place. It was Perini who had told anyone who would listen that these Braves were nothing less than pennant winners.

Bob Wolf pecked out his column for The Sporting News The Sporting News, and concluded that Grimm had never been able to overcome his banjo-playing, roll 'em out and let's drink image. He was too close to his players. They wanted to laugh with Charlie and drink with him, feel safe with him, win or lose. But camaraderie was one thing. Not being able to beat the Dodgers had proven something else: With a pot of gold in the middle of the table, the Braves didn't know how to collect. The Dodgers had been dizzy, reeling, and instead of a kayo, six games against the Braves were what had gotten them straight. The Braves had Burdette and Spahn and Mathews and Adc.o.c.k and Aaron, Wolf wrote, and still didn't know how to reach across the table and bring the money home.

Why did Grimm fail to produce the pennant winner Perini and the fans of Milwaukee thought they should have had? The consensus is that his easy-going manner got the best of him, just as it apparently had in his two terms with the Cubs. The club appeared to lack the compet.i.tive spark.

For the papers, Charlie gave Milwaukee one last smile. Sporting a polka-dot s.h.i.+rt and cream-colored blazer, a cigarette in his left hand, Charlie mugged for the cameras, shaking Fred Haney's hand with his right.

ALTHOUGH F FRED H HANEY knew a Cadillac when he saw one, he knew he wouldn't have it for long if he didn't learn how to drive, and fast. Haney had been around the Braves enough to know his wasn't a 2422 team. His first act as commandant was to crush the element on the Braves that preferred barmaids to first place. Over the first weeks of his tenure, Haney would manage quite differently from the way Grimm had. Haney called frequent meetings, if for no reason other than to give the drinkers on the club something to think about. He promised to deal with the "two or three playboys" on the club. One, of course, was Mathews, but he wasn't going anywhere. Mathews had trouble even when he wasn't exactly involved. Take the night of May 12, when he hit his fourth homer of the year in a 106 loss at Cincinnati. Mathews showed up at the ballpark for a doubleheader the next day sporting cuts on each side of his face. It turned out that a woman had thrown a gla.s.s in his direction and shards of gla.s.s were now deeply lodged into his face. No matter, Mathews went four for eight in sweeping two from the Redlegs, but too many times the edge the Braves needed was being left in the bar. knew a Cadillac when he saw one, he knew he wouldn't have it for long if he didn't learn how to drive, and fast. Haney had been around the Braves enough to know his wasn't a 2422 team. His first act as commandant was to crush the element on the Braves that preferred barmaids to first place. Over the first weeks of his tenure, Haney would manage quite differently from the way Grimm had. Haney called frequent meetings, if for no reason other than to give the drinkers on the club something to think about. He promised to deal with the "two or three playboys" on the club. One, of course, was Mathews, but he wasn't going anywhere. Mathews had trouble even when he wasn't exactly involved. Take the night of May 12, when he hit his fourth homer of the year in a 106 loss at Cincinnati. Mathews showed up at the ballpark for a doubleheader the next day sporting cuts on each side of his face. It turned out that a woman had thrown a gla.s.s in his direction and shards of gla.s.s were now deeply lodged into his face. No matter, Mathews went four for eight in sweeping two from the Redlegs, but too many times the edge the Braves needed was being left in the bar.

Jim Pendleton, the versatile utility man who was also Henry's roommate, was another story. Pendleton, who possessed a big appet.i.te for long legs and drink but couldn't hit his weight, was sent out to Wichita the day Haney was hired. Felix Mantilla, the infielder from Puerto Rico who had been Henry's teammate in Jacksonville, was called up. The two would room together.

There was something else about Haney that differed dramatically from Grimm. Haney had no problem pointing out a player's mistakes in front of the whole team. He was, after all, a Durocher man, and he knew the value of peer pressure, of being embarra.s.sed in front of the club. Mental mistakes would not be tolerated. A ball getting by or a throw coming in low was one thing, but not knowing how many outs there were or not taking the extra base was quite another. Under Fred Haney these types of errors would definitely cost players money. The difference was that Durocher was a better psychologist than Haney. Durocher knew that he needed Willie Mays to win and never embarra.s.sed Willie. To do so would have sent Mays retreating into his sh.e.l.l. On the Braves, Henry was the rising star. Even at this juncture in his career it was clear he possessed the most all-around talent.

Yet Haney had no problem criticizing Henry. Or anybody.

In the Braves first test under Haney, a doubleheader at Ebbets, Adc.o.c.k won it in the ninth with a home run that went over the roof. The New York Times New York Times photo caption said it was the first time anyone had hit a ball out of Ebbets. In the nightcap, Adc.o.c.k hit another, this time off Don Newcombe, and the Braves had not only swept the day, 31, but done something they hadn't done all season. They'd beaten the Dodgers in consecutive games. photo caption said it was the first time anyone had hit a ball out of Ebbets. In the nightcap, Adc.o.c.k hit another, this time off Don Newcombe, and the Braves had not only swept the day, 31, but done something they hadn't done all season. They'd beaten the Dodgers in consecutive games.

And so it went for Fred Haney, two months of rolling sevens. As they headed into Forbes Field for four games, it wasn't lost on any of the Braves that no team gave them more trouble than the Pirates, but Haney handled his former club. Spahn and Burdette won the first two games, and the Braves broke the Pirates for a five-run fifth in winning the third, and Henry's first-inning triple started a rout in the finale for a four-game sweep. The Braves went back to New York for four with the Giants in Harlem, and it was more of the same. Mathews bombed a home run to win the opener. The Braves rallied for two in the ninth to win the second and swept a doubleheader for their tenth win in a row. In Philadelphia the next night, Pakfo started a three-run eighth with a bunt single and the Braves won 85.

The streak ended the next day in Philadelphia, but after Grimm was fired, the Braves had catapulted four teams in the standings, suddenly playing .600 ball and leading the league over an upstart Cincinnati club as well as the Dodgers.

ON M MAY 8, the Milwaukee cleanup hitter, Henry Aaron, went zero for four, struck out twice, and made an error in a 50 win against Pittsburgh. His average dropped to .167. He'd started the season with three hits in his first seven at bats, including demoralizing the Cubs with a home run on opening day, but over the next nine games, Henry could do next to nothing. The average wasn't there, and neither was the power. He went thirteen games before hitting his first double of the season. He had three home runs up to that point. The consolation was that Milwaukee was in first place without its cleanup hitter doing anything at all. 8, the Milwaukee cleanup hitter, Henry Aaron, went zero for four, struck out twice, and made an error in a 50 win against Pittsburgh. His average dropped to .167. He'd started the season with three hits in his first seven at bats, including demoralizing the Cubs with a home run on opening day, but over the next nine games, Henry could do next to nothing. The average wasn't there, and neither was the power. He went thirteen games before hitting his first double of the season. He had three home runs up to that point. The consolation was that Milwaukee was in first place without its cleanup hitter doing anything at all.

The trouble with Henry was that there were few signals his teammates could point to that suggested his problems were over. Some slumping hitters got themselves out of the dumps by taking more pitches, by walking more and cutting down on their strike-outs. Not Henry. A low number of strike-outs would always be a central source of pride for him, and even when he was cranking, he didn't walk. On May 15, he went one for four in Philadelphia, raising his average to .208, but he had struck out five times and walked five times all season. Others would try to take the ball the other way, to shoot the ball into the right-center gap. That meant the hitter wasn't overanxious to pull the ball, which meant he wasn't trying to meet the ball too quickly and thus was missing good pitches.

The hitting coaches would all tell Henry the same thing: to stay back, wait on the ball, and then stride toward it. Henry hit differently. Since the ankle injury in high school, his. .h.i.tting approach was to balance and drive off of his front front foot, to use the combination of his quickness and power to drive the ball. Despite the results, few of his coaches knew exactly what to do with him, because they'd never seen anyone hit like that and be successful over the long term. Committing to the front foot should have left him vulnerable to late-moving pitches, made him susceptible to strike-outs, but he was just different. foot, to use the combination of his quickness and power to drive the ball. Despite the results, few of his coaches knew exactly what to do with him, because they'd never seen anyone hit like that and be successful over the long term. Committing to the front foot should have left him vulnerable to late-moving pitches, made him susceptible to strike-outs, but he was just different.

Henry's gifts at the plate were unpredictable except in their roots. He thought along with the pitcher and tried to beat him to the spot. It had been that way in Mobile, when Ed Scott first saw him. Henry had always banked on his ability to make contact with any pitch, in any location.

When he did catch-a three-hit game with a triple in a 21 loss in Philly-it was without warning, an innocent spark turned wildfire. The next day, in the Polo Grounds against the Giants, Henry rapped two more hits, a double and a two-run triple, to put on a show with Mays, who would also double and triple, just to keep the universe in balance. Then it was time to break out the adding machine: three straight multihit games against Pittsburgh and Brooklyn. By the end of the month, Aaron was suddenly hitting .352.

If Charlie Grimm knew Aaron had the potential to be a transcendent talent, it was Haney who worked unsentimentally to refine him. When Grimm resigned, Aaron was. .h.i.tting .313. Indeed, in Haney's first game, Henry went three for four, and Haney presented him with a reward: early batting practice when the team arrived in Pittsburgh. Henry responded that night with two more hits.

Meanwhile, the hype machine had found its man, and it was true: twenty-year-old Frank Robinson was indeed the real deal. At the all-star break, he was running away with the Rookie of the Year award, and for all of his bl.u.s.tery spring-training oratory, maybe Robinson's old minor-league manager Ernie White had underestimated underestimated his former protege. Robinson wasn't just killing the ball; he was second in the league in hitting. He wasn't just hitting the ball over the fence; he led the league in runs scored, even though he was not a base stealer. Like Aaron and Mays and Banks, he was a complete hitter, and that other rumor about Robinson was also true: You couldn't intimidate the kid. It wasn't yet August, but Robinson had already been hit twelve times. He stood there snarling, right on top of the plate. He ignored the customary batter-pitcher compact of giving up one half of the plate, and for it, Robinson would be hit twenty times in 1956 alone. It would be a hallmark of his long career. By the time he retired, in 1975, he would be hit a total of 198 times. By contrast, Henry was. .h.i.t by pitches thirty-times over twenty-three seasons. his former protege. Robinson wasn't just killing the ball; he was second in the league in hitting. He wasn't just hitting the ball over the fence; he led the league in runs scored, even though he was not a base stealer. Like Aaron and Mays and Banks, he was a complete hitter, and that other rumor about Robinson was also true: You couldn't intimidate the kid. It wasn't yet August, but Robinson had already been hit twelve times. He stood there snarling, right on top of the plate. He ignored the customary batter-pitcher compact of giving up one half of the plate, and for it, Robinson would be hit twenty times in 1956 alone. It would be a hallmark of his long career. By the time he retired, in 1975, he would be hit a total of 198 times. By contrast, Henry was. .h.i.t by pitches thirty-times over twenty-three seasons.

Robinson was not a beneficiary of the kingmakers in the East Coast media machine. He played in dowdy Cincinnati, which by all accounts was a city hostile toward blacks. Cincinnati was so fearful of offending the conservative middle-American att.i.tude that in 1956, in the age of McCarthyism, the Reds changed their name to the Redlegs, lest anyone think the baseball team had sided with the Communists. It was only a matter of time before Robinson chafed in Cincinnati, but in the summer of 1956, Frank Robinson was the most exciting player in the National League.

Then, for Henry Aaron, came the unkindest cut: Robinson was named to start in right field in the All-Star Game. Robinson, in fact, would be the only black starter in the game, with Mays, Aaron, and Ernie Banks on the bench.

FOLLOWING THE A ALL-STAR Game, the Dodgers traveled to Milwaukee for four games. The standings showed Cincinnati in first place, up on Milwaukee by a game and a half and by two on Brooklyn, but no one really believed the Redlegs would be around for the whole 154 games. The Braves knew beating Brooklyn would be the only measure by which they were judged. For the doubleheader opener on July 12, 41,000 burghers packed County Stadium, Bob Buhl versus Roger Craig. Adc.o.c.k boomed a long homer in the fifth to make it 10, and Buhl led 20 into the ninth. Jackie Robinson grounded to third for the first out. Hodges fouled out to third. Buhl, too close to victory, grew nervous, pitching as though he were defusing a bomb. Nelson rapped a single to center; Furillo followed with one to left. The groans in the crowd grew more unsettled. Against the Dodgers, this was the kind of game Charlie Grimm always found a way to lose. Haney didn't move. Roy Campanella stepped to the plate, salty on about a hundred different levels. The first was that he was having the worst hitting year of his career. Campy, who'd won three MVP awards, couldn't crack .240. The second was that on this day, he was already zero for three with a strike-out. Buhl threw two quick fastb.a.l.l.s by him, and then pitched to him carefully, so carefully, in fact, that Campanella walked to load the bases. That brought up Rube Walker, the same Rube Walker who had singled in the ninth inning in Grimm's penultimate game as manager, the game in which Grimm had forgotten who was on deck. Walker stepped in on Buhl and broke the Braves hearts again, las.h.i.+ng an apparent game-winning drive down the first-base line. Game, the Dodgers traveled to Milwaukee for four games. The standings showed Cincinnati in first place, up on Milwaukee by a game and a half and by two on Brooklyn, but no one really believed the Redlegs would be around for the whole 154 games. The Braves knew beating Brooklyn would be the only measure by which they were judged. For the doubleheader opener on July 12, 41,000 burghers packed County Stadium, Bob Buhl versus Roger Craig. Adc.o.c.k boomed a long homer in the fifth to make it 10, and Buhl led 20 into the ninth. Jackie Robinson grounded to third for the first out. Hodges fouled out to third. Buhl, too close to victory, grew nervous, pitching as though he were defusing a bomb. Nelson rapped a single to center; Furillo followed with one to left. The groans in the crowd grew more unsettled. Against the Dodgers, this was the kind of game Charlie Grimm always found a way to lose. Haney didn't move. Roy Campanella stepped to the plate, salty on about a hundred different levels. The first was that he was having the worst hitting year of his career. Campy, who'd won three MVP awards, couldn't crack .240. The second was that on this day, he was already zero for three with a strike-out. Buhl threw two quick fastb.a.l.l.s by him, and then pitched to him carefully, so carefully, in fact, that Campanella walked to load the bases. That brought up Rube Walker, the same Rube Walker who had singled in the ninth inning in Grimm's penultimate game as manager, the game in which Grimm had forgotten who was on deck. Walker stepped in on Buhl and broke the Braves hearts again, las.h.i.+ng an apparent game-winning drive down the first-base line.

Except that Frank Torre, who had just entered the game as a defensive replacement for Adc.o.c.k, leaped and stabbed the ball out of the air, saving the game for Buhl. He was now 104 on the season and had beaten the Dodgers five times.

The rest of the weekend was pure magic. The second game was rained out and in the rescheduled doubleheader-Friday night, July 13-the Braves gave Milwaukee something to remember and the Dodgers something to fear. In the first game, in front of 40,169, Newcombe lasted but one inning, blasted out of existence by Adc.o.c.k's two-run homer, which led a six-run first.

The Dodgers pieced together two runs in the second as wheels within wheels turned. It was only mid-July, but a referendum on the Braves toughness was taking place. The score was 62 and it should have been more. Don Drysdale, all six feet, six inches of him, with his nasty slider and nastier disposition, didn't really have it. They should have punched him out in the second, his first inning of work, but Henry bounced into the rally-killing double play with two on and one out. Milwaukee had Drysdale again in the third and the Dodgers looked rattled. Covington singled and Campy dropped a foul pop. Two more on and one out again, but Drysdale walked into the dugout, untouched, when Rice grounded into another double play. The Braves held a four-run lead, but they were leaving ducks on the bases every inning.

In the fourth, Drysdale gave up a double to Danny O'Connell and Campy let the next pitch roll through his legs. With O'Connell dancing off third, needing just a grounder or fly ball to bring him home, Logan bounced a chopper to Robinson at third, forcing O'Connell to scamper back. Drysdale, the magician, escaped again when Mathews, ever dangerous, ended the inning by lining to Robinson.

More than any other member of the Dodgers, it was Robinson, thirty-seven years old and rancorous, who was convinced that Milwaukee couldn't play in the thin air of a pennant chase. And here, again, when the details of the game seemed to be showing that the Braves were the more talented team, it was being proved. Drysdale should have been toast, putting men on in every inning, and yet he hadn't broken, hadn't even given up another run. The score may have looked like a blowout at 62, but that was the thing about baseball-one swing of the bat could tie it. The Braves hadn't shown Robinson anything. The Dodgers should have been dead and yet they were one rally away from recovery.

Drysdale received his cosmic reward in the top of the fifth, bouncing a liner off Ray Crone that caromed from the pitcher to Logan for an infield single. Then the flood came: a single by Gilliam, a double by Reese, which made it 63. Bat held high above his head, Robinson stepped up on Crone, with runners on second and third and with one out, and ripped a two-run single to center, and it was 65. It was Durocher who famously said Robinson "didn't come to beat ya. He come to stick the bat up your a.s.s."

And so here was Jackie, having snared the final two outs the previous inning, driving in two runs in the middle of this rally, taking the game into his hands. The next exchange would detail why no single statistic could properly summarize his impact as a winning ballplayer. With Crone shaking, the Milwaukeeans sitting on their hands as they watched their big lead melt like a July snow cone, Robinson went for the jugular, faking twice before finally stealing second. Crone was so rattled, he walked Hodges, and Haney came out with the hook.

Dave Jolly entered and chucked a wild pitch that sent Robinson to third. Without the benefit of a hit, Robinson tied the game at 66 on a fielder's choice.

In later years, these games would be deliciously remembered for differing reasons. Johnny Logan believed what transpired over those next days as the moment the Braves transformed themselves into a champions.h.i.+p personality, finally discarding a reputation as carousers who spit the bit when the pressure rose. The writer Roger Kahn would remember the Robinson performance as another example of the Einstein adage "Everything that can be counted does not necessarily count; everything that counts cannot necessarily be counted."

Robinson was largely finished as an everyday player, as his diminished skills could no longer support his furious activism. But in short bursts, during big games, he could still be a devastating impact player. From the vantage point of the score book, Robinson had done nothing remarkable that Friday-a couple of putouts, an RBI base hit, and a stolen base-but placed in the context of the game and the season and the intensifying relations.h.i.+p between the two teams, he had once again made the difference.

For spending the afternoon in the pressure cooker, Henry had not done much. He'd struck out. He started a Brooklyn rally with his tenth error of the season and killed a rally by hitting into a double play.

But when he doubled off Clem Labine to lead off the seventh in a tie game, it was the seasoned Dodgers who crumbled. Labine's error allowed Aaron to advance to third and score the go-ahead run on a Bruton sacrifice fly. In the eighth, it was Labine again, giving up a leadoff double to O'Connell and committing another error on the very next batter. With O'Connell on third, Mathews walked to keep the double play intact.

That brought up Henry, with a duck sitting on third and Mathews at first. Labine wanted to pitch Aaron inside, hard at first, and then soft enough to force a double-play grounder. Henry took a pitch. On the next, O'Connell broke for home, and Henry, the power hitter, pulled a Robinson, dropping a perfect bunt in front of Labine as O'Connell raced home with an insurance run in a sweaty 86 Milwaukee victory.

Burdette took the mound in the second game and immediately gave up four in the first. Naturally, Robinson was at the center of the fray. Winning the game was important, but beating Burdette came with an even bigger payoff, for it meant there was no one the Braves could run out to the mound with a psychological advantage. Three batters into the game, Burdette was already down 20, with Snider on first. Robinson followed with a single. Nelson reached on a bunt single to third, loading the bases. That's when Robinson sensed a chance to break Burdette's will.

Furillo bounced a double-play ball to O'Connell at second. No harm there, because with Snider on third, Haney was conceding Snider's run to get two outs. Being down 30 in the first inning wasn't ideal, but he had twenty-seven outs to make up the difference.

But Robinson raced to third, as he was supposed to do, and then kept on running then kept on running. Surprised, Adc.o.c.k took Logan's relay and spun toward the plate, a flying Robinson careening for the plate, Burdette screaming, "Home! Home!" Adc.o.c.k hit Del Rice in the glove with the throw, but Robinson was already dusting himself off, trotting gingerly toward the Dodgers dugout, and it was 40.

It was the kind of play few players would ever dare to attempt, the kind of play even fewer had the skills to consider, and the kind an even smaller percentage thought could work. Even though he was now on one knee in the dugout, gingerly holding his crotch, while Burdette spewed venom at him, he had scored from second on a double play. If he had to do it alone, Jackie Robinson would make the Braves crack.

The great educator Booker T. Was.h.i.+ngton (fourth from right) vacationed in Mobile and spent much political capital fighting unsuccessfully to prevent the implementation of Jim Crow policies there. It was into a strict culture of segregation that three generations of Aaron men were born.

Almost as if preordained, the specter of Babe Ruth would never be far from Henry Aaron. Ruth was born February 6, Henry a day earlier. Ruth finished his career with the Braves, the team that would one day draft Henry. In the same year Herbert and Stella Aaron moved to Mobile, Ruth poses before an exhibition at Hartwell Field.

The pool halls of Davis Avenue appealed to a young Henry Aaron far more than education, leading to his expulsion from high school. He attended the Josephine Allen Inst.i.tute, but Henry bet his entire future on baseball.

When Herbert Aaron finally found steady work, it was as a riveter with the Alabama Dry Dock & s.h.i.+pbuilding Company on Pinto Island. Until a 1942 riot, white and black employees worked alongside one another, though they would still suffer the humiliation of segregated entrances at the main plant.

Henry joined Jacksonville, part of the notorious South Atlantic League, as a second baseman in 1953. Along with Felix Mantilla and Horace Garner, he would integrate the league while winning MVP honors.