One of baseball's prouder moments, to me, was the 1997 announcement that Jackie Robinson's #42 was to be retired league-wide, in perpetuity.  It was the first time something like that had been done, and there certainly was no more deserving candidate - it's essentially beyond argument, after all, that the effort involved in integrating baseball helped kill him.  So, you know...I think that merits a jersey retirement, at least.

Three years later, the NHL honored Wayne Gretzky by permanently retiring his #99.  There are similarities between the two men, certainly - they were both men, for one, and if you ask for a list of the greatest figures in the two sports, informed people will list them both, probably in the top five.  Robinson's social contributions obviously dwarf Gretzky's, but that's not surprising - black people don't WANT to play hockey, and it's seen as a Canadian sport, so Americans don't feel like the NHL has a racial problem.  Which maybe they don't.  I don't know.  I don't care about hockey.  But I know that Gretzky's contributions to the NHL, both in his amazing statistics and his financial impact on the league, certainly merit such a permanent honor as the retirement of #99.

The NBA has not taken such a step to this point.  I spent 10 seconds just now trying to think of who would be the most important figure in the game, someone whose social or athletic contributions were so overarching that every child learning about the league should hold them in awe, forever.

Still thinking...

You could argue that Bill Russell faced racism and won a mountain of championships, and you'd be right.  The problem is that he was not the first African-American in the NBA, and that his athletic contributions were not sexy ones.  You could argue, as Lebron James did (how is there no "I" in "Lebron James," by the way? The man's ego is stupefying), that Michael Jordan's #23 should be retired, but that doesn't feel right either.  Jordan's numbers didn't SHATTER records, they just passed them.  He didn't do things that had never been done before, he just did almost everything REALLY well.  Socially, he contributed nothing.  Financially, he helped make the league the juggernaut it became, but Bird and Magic were the ones that started that ball rolling.  So I think it's safe to say that Lebron's idea was really more about Lebron. 

(If you don't believe me, please note that one of the main suspected landing spots for James next year is the New Jersey Nets.  Note also that #23, James' current number, has ALREADY BEEN RETIRED by the Nets, in honor of John Williamson, so James was going to need a new number in any event.  Of course, Lebron being Lebron, he probably can't stomach the idea of saying "Yes, I'm giving up #23 in honor of John Williamson," a man most basketball fans haven't heard of.  Better to get the whole league to retire Jordan's number, so it'll look like he's deferring to Jordan instead of John Williamson, simultaneously linking his name with Jordan's historically, albeit tangentially. 

Or maybe Lebron, he of the "I want to be a global icon" statement, the look-at-me dancing during games, look-at-me pregame powder-throwing and pregame posing, look-at-me tantrum at the end of the playoffs last year, etc., is really a selfless, league-minded guy.  And maybe I'm the new center fielder for the Yankees!

But as usual, I'm side-stepping the thing I actually wanted to write about, which is this: I think MLB should honor Hank Aaron in the same way that Robinson and Gretzky were honored, but with a slight twist.  After all, Aaron faced racist garbage during his pursuit of Babe Ruth's home run record (and probably before it, and probably after it), and to me, massive achievement in the face of ugly obstacles should always be celebrated, even if, in MLB's case, it would mean celebrating it a second time.   Because it seems to me that if you're Hank Aaron at, say, 18 years old, and you're playing in the Negro Leagues, and have some hotel clerk say you can't check in because you're black...don't you ALWAYS wonder, even now, if hotel clerks are thinking the same thing about you?  Once you have a scar, I say you're always aware of it when it's in view.  And so when you're Aaron, and you're chasing Ruth, and you've gotten death threats - DEATH THREATS - over a GAME...how can you ever really relax? 

We need to honor the man, and we need to do it league-wide.  But Robinson's recognition should remain separate, higher, greater, because his sacrifice was certainly greater (also, once you retire multiple jersey numbers, you're on a slippery slope - just ask the Yankees, who will certainly, eventually, become the first team to issue a triple-digit jersey number.  Assuming, of course, that jersey numbers still exist at that point.  I mean, in these days of name-specific jerseys, aren't the numbers redundant?  The whole point of jersey numbers was to differentiate the players, after all, and the names certainly accomplish that).  So I think we should retire the number that people most associate with Hank Aaron - #755.  I think every stadium - majors, minors, and the one I pass on I-55 driving to visit my brother - should have "755" prominently displayed on its left'field wall, as Aaron was a left fielder, and since the majority of his home runs, including the record-setting 715th, went to left field. 

Imagine the IMPACT of that - every kid, growing up, that really cared about the game would ask their Dad what that number means.  Hopefully they'd learn about his class and dignity, his success in breaking that record despite playing in large ballparks during the most competitive era in baseball history.  Father and son might sit down at the computer and fire up the clip of Aaron breaking Ruth's record, a moment that brings so many of us chills, even seeing it for the 1,000th time.  755...everywhere...forever.

I can't see any downside to this.  I mean, sure, Barry Bonds IS listed as the all-time home run king, and by doing this we might, you know, effectively push him further into the shadows by celebrating the man he passed instead of him.  And yeah, it'd be a real hoot to see his reaction to walking into Petco Park and seeing a giant "755" on the wall, near the position he played, and nothing at ALL about what he and the drugs accomplished, and yeah, maybe that was the whole reason I wrote this - to find a way to teach children that Barry Bonds is a technicality, nothing more than a fact that exists, not a person to be celebrated.  Maybe all that is true. 

But you have to admit, Hank Aaron WAS a hell of a guy.