USATODAY

Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig admired Hank Aaron as a fan in the late 1950s when Aaron played for the Milwaukee Braves and as a friend for many years. Selig shares his thoughts on Aaron in an essay for USA TODAY Sports.

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Even before I became lucky enough to call him one of my closest friends, Hank Aaron was responsible for one of the happiest moments of my life.

On Sept. 23, 1957, I was 23 and sitting in the upper deck of County Stadium. At 91-57, the Milwaukee Braves were on the cusp of clinching the National League pennant, holding a five-game lead over their opponent that day, the St.Louis Cardinals. A 2-2 game went to the 11th inning when a fellow 23-year-old named Henry Aaron — coming down the stretch of his MVP-winning fourth season in the majors — broke the tie with a two-run homer against rookie right-hander Billy Muffett. That home run sent Milwaukee to its first World Series, in which the Braves triumphed over the great New York Yankees of Mickey Mantle and Yogi Berra.

Hank's home run was the culmination of the love affair between Milwaukee and its Braves, who arrived from Boston in 1953 and instantly captured our hearts. Milwaukee felt big-league because of its local nine. Henry Aaron played center field in the '57 Fall Classic, and indeed, he was at the center of it all. He was a perfect fit for the city where he starred. His work ethic reflected the spirit of the fans who cheered him on. As understated as most members of the community that his uniform represented, Hank let his bat do the talking for him.

It is well known that he became a 25-time All-Star, which is unsurpassed in history. Most famously of all, on the night of April8, 1974, "The Hammer" passed the great Babe Ruth and set the most hallowed record in American sports with his 715th home run. But setting aside his five-tool talents on the field, I truly believe that Hank's character allowed him to meet the challenges that his era — too often, unfairly — demanded.

As the last major league player who was a part of the Negro leagues, he was one of the game's most prominent bridges to integration. For 23 years on the field, this humble native of Mobile, Ala., represented the game with unfailing grace, overcoming obstacles that most of us could not even imagine. In the years since then, Hank has remained one of the most distinguished and revered figures in American public life.

Forty years after a 40-year-old authored one of the most memorable moments in sports history have never changed him. The Hank Aaron I got to know in the 1960s — before the dawn of my career in baseball — is the same man today. I treasure his loyalty and unwavering support. He lives with the kind of consistency that led him to set the home run record, despite never assembling a 50-homer year. His life is a testament to modesty, dignity and service, particularly to children chasing their dreams.

When I think back to the Braves leaving Milwaukee for Atlanta after the 1965 season, I remember the pain of the void in our everyday routines. The day-to-day rhythms of our baseball team were abruptly gone. In 1970, our Brewers ballclub restored the communal joys of Major League Baseball, and when we brought Hank back to Milwaukee to play for our club in 1975, our city felt more complete. For two baseball seasons, we thanked Hank Aaron for all that he had done for us in Milwaukee.

Hank's example of consistency, selflessness and dignity shines as brightly as ever. I will never have enough opportunities to thank Hank Aaron for all that he has done for our national pastime.

MLB Commissioner Bud Selig spoke with USA TODAY Sports and reflects on his relationship with Aaron