strangely but surely, the only pressure left will be upon us, upon baseball in
the United States.
There will be a
day in August 1982 when Henry Aaron will stand proudly upon a platform in
Cooperstown, N.Y., to be presented with a bronze bas-relief of himself. Then it
will go upon the wall inside. The people will cheer him, a band will play, the
photographers will photograph and demand that his wife Billye kiss him again.
The sunlight will bounce off Lake Otsego and the breezes will push down the
Susquehanna. Maybe there will be another player or two up there with Aaron.
Maybe Frank Robinson, who hit 586 home runs; maybe Eddie Mathews, who hit 512;
maybe Al Kaline, who hit 399; maybe Roger Maris, who hit 275; maybe Sadaharu
Oh, who hit 861 before he retired in 1981.
What a glorious
thing that would be if Mister Oh stood with Mr. Aaron on the threshold of
Cooperstown. What a great day for baseball. What a great day for American
But, of course,
the Special Committee will put in another octogenarian umpire from the Federal
Seriously now, do
you think Joe DiMaggio could have hit in 56 straight games in Japan?