1965: When the Myth and Magic of Baseball Began

I was about to turn 5 in the summer of 1965 and I was just getting a hint of the legends and mythical figures of those who played baseball for a living.

My parents had moved to Madison, Wisc., a year earlier so my dad could finish his doctorate in music at the University of Wisconsin and I was about to attend kindergarten that fall in a school about two blocks from our West Lawn Avenue home. I had yet to become obsessed with sports and at that age I was more interested in playing cowboys and Indians and going to the nearby city zoo.

But news of baseball, and football because of the state’s worship of the Green Bay Packers, was always available, even for a youngster my age.

Somewhere, I heard about Henry Aaron, the outfielder for the Milwaukee Braves that summer. It was either from my father relating a story he had heard earlier or from something I saw on television. I’m sure I didn’t read it in the Sporting News while poring over box scores, which I started doing a decade later. Wherever it came from, it implanted the first notion that baseball players were special.

Aaron, the story went, had such strong wrists that he could hit baseballs through outfield walls. Aaron had already achieved godlike status in Wisconsin for his 1957 MVP season and winning the World Series against the New York Yankees with his three home runs that year. I wasn’t alive then, but I had heard of Aaron, so the story of his powerful wrists had to be true.

One late summer day before school started for both me and my father, my family drove to Milwaukee. I sat in the back of our old Rambler station wagon and looked at the city. We were downtown and we passed what I thought was County Stadium where the Braves played, driving right next to the brick walls of what I believed was the outfield wall. I’m sure it wasn’t. There was no parking area for fans; it must have been some construction site. But I looked closely and saw sheets of plywood pinned to the wall. I assumed it was the outfield wall; we were looking from the outside, so it had to be the back of the wall. Again, I didn’t even think of stadium seating for the fans behind and above the wall, just that where the outfield ended the street began. Remember, I was only 5.

I noticed holes in the plywood and, by gosh, I knew, I knew, they were made by the slashing line drives of Aaron. The myth became a reality in my world and Aaron was elevated to my favorite player status. Still is, by the way.

Now, 55 years later, I know, no matter how strong Aaron’s wrists were, he couldn’t drive baseballs through outfield walls some 360 feet away. Still, I like the tale and I hang on to that.

I began the 1965 APBA baseball replay a couple of weeks ago and when Aaron is at bat, I think of that story. We hold on to the magic of baseball all these years. Rolling the game dice for him brings back that memory and of a time when my only worries were if my friend across the street could come outside and play and if the lion in the nearby zoo could roar loud enough in the evenings that I could hear him through the open windows of the bedroom.

One of my APBA friends said 1965 was her favorite season to replay. I may echo her on that assessment, although usually whatever season I’m doing is my favorite. However, 1965 seems really special. I remember so many of the players on these teams, and it’s sad that many are passing away. Joe Morgan is the Houston Astros’ second baseman. Jim Bouton, four years from his “Ball Four” fame, is a starter for the Yankees. The Braves are stacked with Aaron, Eddie Mathews, Joe Torre and Felipe Alou, one of the three fascinating Alous who played in that era. I get to roll for Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris. Lou Brock, Curt Flood and Bill White are on a Cardinals’ team that’s doing really well in the replay so far. Willie Stargell, who I emulated his hitch-swing later when I played whiffle ball in Minnesota, is with the Pirates. And I get to roll for Harmon Killebrew, who I idolized along with Aaron.

This is one of the main reasons I believe APBA game players love this game. We can go back in time when we remember these players. There’s no Covid-19 in  APBA, no players’ strikes and no salary fights. There are not even any rainouts in my replays. It’s a great way to remember the times. And when I roll for Aaron, there’s a chance that maybe, just maybe, he may drive one so hard that it does go through the outfield wall and into the streets of Milwaukee.