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A lithe, 180-lb. six-footer whose wrists are bigger (8 in. around) than Cassius Clay's, Aaron, 31, is a superb fielder, a dangerous base runner (19 stolen bases in 22 attempts) as well as a natural hitter who says, "I just grab a bat and look for the baseball. If it's near the plate, I swing at it." Technically, he does almost everything wrong: he stands at the very back of the batter's box (where it is practically impossible to reach pitches before they break), has a hitch in his swing, hits off his forward foot, regularly swings at the first pitch, is a notorious bad ball hitter. "I've seen Hank hit pitches right off his ear into the rightfield grandstand," says Pittsburgh's Bob Friend. Another opposition pitcher once complained: "The last two pitches I threw at Aaron's head, he hit out of the park."
Last week in St. Louis, Hank leaned clear across the plate to reach for a wide, soft curve thrown by the Cardinals' Curt Simmons. He belted it onto the rightfield pavilion roof−but Umpire Chris Pelekoudas called him out for stepping out of the batter's box. Groused Aaron: "He didn't say anything the time before, when I did the same thing and popped up." Some pitchers think that Aaron toys with them, making himself look bad on certain pitches so they will throw the same pitches again. But Hank himself insists that there is no subterfuge behind his hitting. "I've got a bat, and all the pitcher's got is a ball," he says. "That gives me a natural edge."
Aaron naturally gets a handsome salary for doing what comes naturally $67,500 a year, which seems only reasonable by Mickey Mantle standards. If all goes according to Manager Bragan's plan, Milwaukee's fair-weather fans will contribute another $8,000 to that when the Braves get into the World Series and they get into the ballpark. There is some opinion that they shouldn't be allowed. "If I owned the Milwaukee ball club," says San Francisco Giants Owner Horace Stoneham, "I wouldn't sell one World Series ticket in Milwaukee."