What's in a Name?
Now they're calling them the "Yank Aarons" — Aaron Judge and Aaron Hicks, two hard-hitting outfielders for the New York Yankees who keep whacking baseballs out of the park.
It's no wonder they and their names get linked to one of the greatest sluggers of all times, Hall of Famer Henry L. Aaron, aka "Hank."
Is there some special power in that Biblical name of Aaron?
Certainly there's power in abundance in their swings, but what about their handshakes? Their handshakes? Yes, I'm asking because I once shook hands with the original Aaron — Hank Aaron — and have barely recovered enough to be able to type this story.
Okay, I exaggerate, but only slightly since the “crunch” of that handshake is still with me, even after 43 years.
It was 1974 and I was a new guy, a rookie reporter at CBS News in New York when I met him. "Hammerin' Hank" had already collected nearly every award baseball has to offer and was on his way to the Hall of Fame.
His contemporary, Mickey Mantle, called him the greatest player of his generation.
But there was one record still to be topped: Babe Ruth's career home run record of 714, and Aaron was only one swing away from breaking it. With the Atlanta Braves in town to play the Yankees, my bosses decided to send me to Yankee Stadium to get a comment from Aaron.
Clearly he was under incredible pressure, and then some. The season before, as his home run total mounted, Aaron was inundated with hate mail from bigots threatening to kill him and claiming that a black man had no right to topple Ruth’s long-standing record. With so much venom spewed in his direction, it’s a miracle he could even get up in the morning, let alone start a new baseball season.
I wasn’t sure what to expect as I waited near the Braves dugout for Aaron to appear. Racists weren’t the only thing he had to put up with. The news media was there, too, day in and day out, scrutinizing and commenting on his every move.
When Aaron finally made his way up the dugout steps and onto the field for our interview, his face was devoid of any expression. We barely made eye contact as I stuck out my hand to shake hands and introduce myself. What I remember next was nearly passing out.
Aaron’s hand was enormous and his grip was like an iron vice. I could almost feel my fingers being ground into sawdust. I tried not to wince, which I think Aaron noticed because it was the only time he elicited any emotion, a brief amused look flickered in his eyes.
Sports writers have written columns about the power, speed and strength of his hands and wrists — qualities that pitchers who have faced him know all to well — but until you've shaken hands with him as I did, you don't know what strength is.
What I know is that the Aaron handshake was enough to drive every other memory of that meeting out of my mind. He was unfailingly patient and polite during our interview but to this day I can't recall what I asked him or even what he said. All I can say is that if there's a Hall of Fame for handshakes somewhere, Hank Aaron ought to be it's star inductee.
Today's baseball Aarons — Mister Judge and Mister Hicks — should be terribly proud to share part of a name with that great man and to find their names linked with his. But if they share his handshake, I will be content to watch them from a distance and merely wave.
I keep wondering, though, if there is something special in a name. I rather hope so, because I have a grandson named Aaron.
P.S. A couple of days after our handshake, Aaron did break Ruth’s record and among the millions cheering him on was Mrs. Babe Ruth.
