In 1974, we had no cable television; no Internet or smartphones. My connection to the game of baseball included a stack of bubblegum cards, a copy of Who's Who in Baseball, the weekly Sporting News, the daily Times Union newspaper, Monday Night Baseball and the NBC Game of the Week, oh, and the occasional summer pilgrimage to places like Shea Stadium, Fenway Park or Jarry Park in Montreal.

For me, Henry Aaron was the name on a baseball bat my father had purchased at the Baseball Hall of Fame. Racism? Death threats? I had no clue. I didn't understand why his mother was hugging the life out of him at homeplate. I was nine years old. I just sat and watched on a television set that was larger than me as Aaron jogged around the bases. The crowd roared. Fans ran onto the field and congratulated him between second and third base. I knew what Aaron had done but I had no idea of the magnitude of the event. This was bigger, much bigger, than baseball.

Today, 40 years after Aaron's historic home run, his story is spilling out in a series of features. You can watch and read Aaron's story in almost every major publication. In between the lines, you can still sense the joy and a great deal of pain. He told Bob Nightengale:

To remind myself that we are not that far removed from when I was chasing the record. If you think that, you are fooling yourself. A lot of things have happened in this country, but we have so far to go. There's not a whole lot that has changed. We can talk about baseball. Talk about politics. Sure, this country has a black president, but when you look at a black president, President Obama is left with his foot stuck in the mud from all of the Republicans with the way he's treated. We have moved in the right direction, and there have been improvements, but we still have a long ways to go in the country. The bigger difference is that back then they had hoods. Now they have neckties and starched shirts.

Peter Gammons took a much more simplistic tact to the story, including a quote from Tom House, the Braves pitcher who caught the ball in the team bullpen and delivered it to Aaron at home plate: House said:

I honestly have no recollection of anything until I got to home plate where a whole lot of players, coaches and miscellaneous people were surrounding Aaron, his mom, and his bodyguard, Calvin Wardlaw. I pushed my way through the crowd and as I got to Aaron, who was hugging is mother, I reached out with the ball and said, 'Here it is Hammer.' He took it from me and said, 'Thanks, kid.' What stunned me were the tears in his eyes and on his cheeks.

MLB.com columnist and former Atlanta-Journal Constitution reporter Terrence Moore believes Aaron deserves "a centuries-long celebration" for his achievement. He added:

If Aaron wasn't the greatest baseball player of all time ... he was 1b, sitting within a millimeter of whoever was 1a.  Not only that, if Aaron saw ways for the national pastime to improve when it came to diversity, he wasn't exactly afraid to flap his tongue ... Aaron's legacy is eternally connected to how he responded during and after his pursuit of Ruth's ghost ...

Current Braves MLB.com beat writer Mark Bowman introduced us to another witness:  Bill Acree, the Braves director of team travel and clubhouse services. Acree's perspective is much like yours or mine, he was on the outside looking in. He said:

It wasn't a lot of fun for him. It was fun for the people around it. It wasn't fun for the people in the middle of it. [Aaron] one of the most normal guys in the clubhouse you would have ever seen.

Flash forward 2014: Baseball fans have access to every game, they are tweeting in real-time, blogging about every play, player and rumor. The game has been changed by free agency, the designated hitter, player strikes and Steroids, among other things. The events of the last 40 years have made it difficult for the media to focus on the achievement without considering the extraneous. Hence, Barry Bonds.

Sports Illustrated baseball reporter Tom Verducci tackled this one writing:

What makes Hank Aaron's record all the more special to a baseball fan is that it was entirely above reproach. Ruth never played at night, west of St. Louis or after integration. Bonds was a serial user of performance-enhancing drugs, as so well defined by Game of Shadows.

And, there it is. Right alongside of Aaron comes Bonds.

There is a place and time for this debate, but April 8, 2014 is not it. This day is reserved for Henry Aaron. This is the 40th Anniversary of his greatest baseball accomplishment. Today is a time to celebrate his courage, grace and humility. The only way to honor Aaron properly is to leave Bonds out the conversation.