He had been called lots of names. Some were complimentary, some not.

“Hammering Hank” was the sportscaster’s favorite.

He modestly preferred the name his parents had given him – Henry Louis Aaron.

He grew up in Mobile, Ala. in the Jim Crow era.

Racist threats and hate mail greeted his 755 home runs and breaking Babe Ruth’s record.

If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. He often said it motivated him. His role model was Jackie Robinson for breaking the Major League color barrier.

Neither of them let the racist taunts rattle them or cost them their cool.

It’s about respect – respect for yourself, respecting others talented enough to reach the majors, respecting the fans who rooted for you and the great game itself.

Then and now

Readers of my age remember him as one of the greatest hitters of all time.

He was tops in batting averages, runs batted in and home runs in an era when the pitcher’s mound was higher and pitchers such as Sandy Koufax and Bob Gibson dominated batters.

He also did it before steroids pumped many players who wouldn’t have hit 20 homers a year against the likes of Koufax and Gibson.

When Barry Bonds passed his record, the senior slugger was gracious. But those of us who know a little about sports and drugs believe the record still belongs to the sweet swinger who played more than 20 years. Mr. Aaron became a hero to a generation of youngsters of all races when baseball was our favorite sport.

He earned the recognition he deserved for the way he elevated the skill of hitting and the dignity with which he carried himself.

Mr. Modesty

Bob Green, a newspaper writer whose work I admire, saw Mr. Aaron in the fetchyour-own-coffee area of the Embassy Suites airport hotel in Columbus, Ohio.

“We had never met but I was almost certain who he was,” Green wrote.

Mr. Aaron had passed his 80th birthday, was dressed in a suit and sat alone at a table next to Bob Green’s reading a newspaper.

He served on the board of a nationwide shoe company and part of his job was to visit the stores.

“I wish I had been able to express to him the admiration I felt for the grace with which he had lived his life” Green wrote. “I did my best, but I’m sure I came up short.

“Coming up short is something he never did.”

After his death at 86, Green watched TV clips of the slugger at bat.

“I could see the gentleman so comfortable in the quiet.”

Mr. Aaron was comfortable because he knew who he was and had nothing else to prove. That’s a self-respect all of us need to feel.

What do you think of the majors today and the antics of some of their millionaire players? Please write ChronicleSports@yahoo.com .