Baseball history? Forget about it

Last night, at least I remembered the game was on. I flipped over somewhere around 10 p.m., after “The Wonder Years,” to get an update on Barry Bonds and the Giants, checking to see if Home Run 756 might be upcoming.

In previous days, I hadn’t even remembered the game was on. Bonds hit No. 755 Saturday night without me even turning on the TV. I’m not boycotting. I’m not protesting. I’m just not remembering.

I can remember spring 1974, when Henry Aaron bore down on Babe Ruth. The historic 715th came on a Monday night, with NBC cameras providing a rare live, mid-week telecast. We had a church function, and in 1974 there wasn’t a lot of discussion about whether to go. I missed the first half of the 1972 OU-Penn State Sugar Bowl and the 1973 season Notre Dame-Alabama national title game because of church stuff. No VCR. No TiVo. No debate.

And that night when Aaron hit 715, I was all aquiver, which I guess you get more of when you’re 13. While others at the church on North Findlay in Norman were praying for souls or rain or some other cause worthy of Jeremiah, I was praying that Aaron would delay his assault on history. I wanted to see it.