by Adam Hughes
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hammerin' Hank
As it turned out, Dan didn’t have to wait long at all to see Hammerin’ Hank in action.
After the two teams took fielding practice, lineups were announced, and there was a small pre-game ceremony to celebrate the Reds’ division crown in 1973. Following the Star-Spangled Banner, Jack Billingham took the mound and started warming up. Finally, after nine months of hibernation, a week of consciousness, nine hours of travel and prep, and enough confusion to last a lifetime, Dan Hodges settled in to watch a Cincinnati Reds game — something his family thought he might never do again.
And, as much as he hated to admit it, Dan was rooting for the Atlanta Braves or, at least, for Henry Aaron.
The first batter was speedy outfielder Ralph Garr, who finagled a walk from Billingham, prompting Dan to pump his fist and jump from his seat. “Yes!” he screamed before glancing around nervously, expecting to find angry eyes staring into his traitor’s soul. To his relief, the fans around him were clapping, and a few even cheered. Evidently they realized, too, that as long as Garr didn’t get thrown out, Aaron would be coming to the plate in that first inning.
Keeping Garr at first base was normally no easy task, but he stayed put long enough for Braves first baseman Mike Lum to lace a single into left field. That brought up third baseman Darrell Evans, which perked Dan’s ears since they shared a position. More importantly, though, it brought Aaron to the on-deck circle, and the entire stadium began to buzz in anticipation. When Evans flied out to Rose in left, the crowd rose to their feet and cheered Aaron with a raucous approval that Dan had not heard on the Riverfront before.
Aside from his Spring Training cuts and the hacks he took in batting practice, Aaron had not swung a bat since the previous September 30, and he seemed intent on keeping it that way. A checked swing strike and three pitches Aaron found not to his liking left the count at 3-1 and Billingham sweating on the mound. The next offering was just what Aaron ordered, and he pulled it to left field, where Rose shaded toward center in pursuit for just a few steps before stopping to admire the ball’s flight.
Dan and David stood as the ball arced toward them, and Dan thought for a moment it might reach the stands. Did he actually have a chance of catching Aaron’s historic home run?
Instead, the ball descended rapidly and bounced on the tarmac between the left field fence and grandstand where the Hodges were camped in seats high above. Despite missing out on a piece of prime memorabilia, Dan was both elated and worried. With one swing — his first of 1974 — Aaron had not only tied the Babe for the most home runs ever, but he had also put the Reds in a 3-0 hole before they ever came to bat in the new season.
After several minutes of celebration, during which both commissioner Bowie Kuhn and President Gerald Ford stepped onto the field to congratulate Aaron, play resumed and Billingham took the mound again.
Dan was still reeling from the heady events that had just occurred when Billingham finally escaped the inning by coaxing both Dusty Baker and Davey Johnson into groundouts.
The crowd around the Hodges erupted again as Aaron took his place in left field to start the bottom of the first, and Dan yelled out the hero’s name: “Way to go Hammerin’ Hank! We love you!!”
David cocked his head and gave his son a questioning glance, and Dan blushed.
“Well … you know what I mean, Dad,” the young man said. “That was awesome!”
David clapped Dan gently on the shoulder and chuckled. “That was awesome, son, but now the Reds have their work cut out for them.”
Dan waved a dismissive hand. “Aw, it’s a long game, Dad. Don’t worry about the Reds.”
As it happened, Dan was right: it was a long game.
After Cincinnati managed to scratch out a single run in their half of the first, Billingham pitched a couple of strong innings before giving up another run in the fourth and two more in the fifth. By the time the top of the sixth rolled around, the Reds had scored once more on a Davey Concepcion home run, and Sparky Anderson had yanked his ace in favor of righty middle man Roger Nelson. Nelson held Atlanta scoreless for two innings before yielding to Pedro Borbon in the eighth.
Borbon pitched a perfect half inning, and then the Reds’ offense went to work.
Rose finagled a walk from Braves’ starter Carl Morton, prompting Atlanta skipper Eddie Mathews to bring in Phil Niekro. After Joe Morgan popped out to second base, Dan Driessen singled to right, bringing up Tony Perez. Knuckleball or no,”Doggie” found the groove in a Niekro pitch and smacked a three-run homer to bring the Reds to within one, at 6-5. Johnny Bench and Ken Griffey both struck out, the latter causing Dan to slap his forehead.
“He’s lunging forward, Dad!” he said. “No way would he have struck out if he stayed back just a little.”
David wasn’t as adept at spotting hitting flaws as his son was, but he trusted Dan’s judgment. “I’ll take your word for that, Dan. Maybe you should go down there and tell him about it!”
“Aw, Dad!” Dan said. “Always teasing me.”
David may have been in a joking mood, but Borbon wasn’t, and he mowed down the Braves in the ninth inning.
A Reds’ rally was cut short in the bottom of the ninth when Perez fouled out, but not before a Rose double scored George Foster to tie the game at six and set up extra innings.
Tom Hall and Clay Carroll combined to allow two Atlanta base runners but also to retire the side. In the Reds’ half of the 10th, Jack Aker struck out all three batter he faced.
Carroll stayed on to pitch the 11th inning, and he set down Atlanta in order.
Next, with Buzz Capra on the mound for the Braves, Concepcion struck out and Darrell Chaney flied out to begin the bottom of the 11th, and it looked like a long night would get longer.
But Rose was up next, and he smashed a double, prompting Capra to walk Morgan to get a shot at Cesar Geronimo, pinch-hitting for Carroll.
Before Geronimo could even make the Braves’ reliever regret that decision, though, Capra uncorked a wild pitch, and Rose charged all the way home from second to score the winning run with one of his patented head-first slides.
The entire stadium erupted into a sea of screams and fist pumps, and Dan, already on his feet, wrapped David in a full-body hug, the type they hadn’t shared in 10 years or more. For that brief moment, all Dan’s doubts about the future and all David’s concern about his son’s future, evaporated into the chilly spring evening air on the Ohio River. The two men jumped up and down and shook their heads, disbelieving what they had just witnessed. What a way to start the season!
Dan and David made their way toward the field, where some of the Reds were still celebrating their win and others were picking up their equipment, in hopes of scoring an autograph or two. As they walked, Dan thought about how much he loved baseball and was not ready to give it up. He was still young, and everything he had done to that point in his life was built on the idea he would play baseball as long as he possibly could. He may have lost a year, but no coma could rob him of his God-given talent. He knew he had the drive to build his body back to where it had been a year ago, and probably even better.
The more he thought about it, the more Dan warmed to the idea of helping David start that summer league and then trying to make the Ferncastle American Legion team.
Dan was so engrossed in his budding daydreams that he didn’t notice they were nearly on top of the Reds dugout until David bumped him on the shoulder and said, “Hey, Danny Boy, wake up!”
Dan looked at his father, who was pointing toward the field. There, just entering the dugout, was the last man to leave the field for the Reds. Young Ken Griffey, a few days shy of his 24th birthday, had started in right field that day and stopped in the bullpen to chat with one of his coaches. Now Griffey was ambling toward the dugout , but Dan noticed he had stopped on the top step and looked toward the Hodges. How Griffey had picked Dan’s face out of the crowd of the several hundred who still lingered in the home stands,
Dan would never know, but the two young men locked eyes.
They were no more than 15 feet from each other when Griffey said, “So? What’d you think?”
“Great game!” Dan called out before he put any real thought into his answer. Although Hank Aaron had made history and the Reds had come away with an exciting 7-6 victory, Griffey had gone 0-for-4 with three strikeouts — an inglorious baseball hat trick.
Griffey chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so. At least we won.”
As Griffey took a step down the stairs and looked into the darkness of the dugout, Dan called out to him again.
“Uh, Mr. Griffey?” Dan said, and David looked at his son in surprise. “Mr. Griffey … it looks to me like you’re shifting your weight to your front foot just a hair too early.”
David’s eyes widened, and he whisper-gasped, “Dan! What are you doing?”
Dan slapped his hand over his mouth and pulled his shoulders up around his ears. What WAS he doing? Who was he to tell Ken Griffey how to hit?
Although Dan hoped Griffey hadn’t heard him, the young slugger stopped and curled a hand over the dugout roof, before pulling himself back to field level to look Dan in the eyes again.
“What did you say?” Griffey asked.
“Um,” Dan stammered, worried he might get himself and David banned from the ballpark. “Um, I mean, it just seems like you were a little ahead of some of those pitches … you know, like off-balance a little.”
By that time, and older, powerful-looking man whom Dan recognized as hitting coach Ted Kluszewski had climbed up the steps to stand beside Griffey, and he was nodding.
“Off-balance, huh?” Griffey said, squinting his eyes as if evaluating a new kind of fungus.
“See, what’d I tell you, kid?” Big Klu said, punching Griffey on the shoulder. Turning to Dan, the coach continued with, “I’ve been telling him all spring he needs to stay back and wait on the ball, but he’s all excited to get to the Big Leagues. You’d better listen to this kid here if you want to stick in the Bigs, I tell you.”
This last bit was directed at Griffey again, and Kluszewski disappeared down the steps.
Griffey stared at Dan for a moment, then bobbed his head.
“Yeah, well, thanks for the advice, kid,” he said.
Then he was gone, too.
Dan and David looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Say, Dan,” David said in the sly voice that Dan always knew meant a razzing was in the offing. “Maybe we should forget about you playing baseball this summer. Looks like maybe your future is in coaching!”
The same idea had occurred to Dan during the exchange with Griffey, but it hadn’t seemed quite so funny in his head. If he couldn’t play for some reason, maybe he could become a coach somewhere along the line. He wasn’t ready to hang up his spikes just yet, though.
“Actually, Dad,” Dan said. “I was thinking I might take you up on your offer to play for the company team this summer. Near as I can tell, coaching is for old farts … like you!”
The two Hodges laughed again and hugged each other before heading out of the stadium, into the growing evening, each man eager for more time on the road together.