Hank Aaron says he finally feels at peace. That’s a far different outcome than viewers might expect after watching Chasing the Dream, one of the winning films being honored at this year’s Heartland Film Festival.

The documentary traces the life of one of baseball’s all-time greats, from his impoverished childhood in the Deep South through April 8, 1974, when he broke Babe Ruth’s record for the most home runs in a career, and up to his Hall of Fame induction in 1982.

Along the way, Aaron ran smack into many forms of racism. Some were benign – white children wanted to touch his skin because they’d never seen a black man. But many were vicious, like the death threats he received as he approached and finally passed Ruth.

“Time heals a lot of things,” Aaron, 61, says by telephone from his office at Atlanta- based CNN, where his job is to get the cable news network’s programming shown in airports. “It’s been a long time since that record was broken. This is a new generation of people and I think I’ve been appreciated more by this generation than I was by the generation before.”

The reason for that, he says, is improvements in race relations. “We’ve made some progress in this country,” Aaron says. “I think people look at you a little different than they did 25 to 30 years ago.”

Chasing the Dream, will be shown at 7 p.m. Friday and 2 p.m. and 7 p.m. Saturday and Sunday at the United Artists theater in Circle Centre. The film, which originally aired on the cable superstation TBS in April, is among six winners to share the Heartland Festival’s $100,000 prize.

Aaron will appear at the festival’s gala Saturday night to share in the accolades for screenwriter/director Mike Tollin and a team of executive producers that includes actor Denzel Washington.

Aaron wound up “very pleased” with the final project. He says the producers regularly sent him footage so he could assess its accuracy.

“I didn’t want a baseball movie; I wanted something that everybody and every kid could be proud of,” he says. “I didn’t want somebody saying, `Then Hank hit a home run,’ because that was not what the movie was about. It was about the trials and tribulations and tough times.”

The trials started when, as a teen-ager, the Brooklyn Dodgers turned him away from a tryout camp because they thought he was too small.

Never gave up

But he dreamed of playing ball, and he pursued the goal. People picketed when blacks played, but Aaron went on. Restaurant owners shattered dishes used by Aaron and other blacks, and still he persevered.

He played for semi-pro and Negro League teams including the Indianapolis Clowns, who, despite the city name, barnstormed the country. (“I think I did play a game in Indianapolis,” Aaron says.

“I don’t know whether it was with the Indianapolis Clowns . . . but let me say, there’s not too many cities or states that I didn’t play in.”)

He made it to the major leagues in 1954 and stayed for 23 years. During those years, he performed consistently and spectacularly, appearing in at least 120 games in 21 seasons and batting .305 for his career. He hit 755 home runs and drove in 2,297 runs, both major-league records.

None of it came easily. As he  closed in on Ruth’s home-run record, Aaron‘s mailbox filled with hate letters from whites who didn’t want a black man to surpass what was considered baseball’s unbreakable record.

“I was confused” by the ail, Aaron says. “I didn’t know whether I was doing something wrong or what. But then I started thinking, `Hey, you’ve got some sick people in this country.

Regardless of whether they’re black or white, you’ve got some sick people that don’t want to see anybody move forward.’ “

Aaron feared for his safety – he hired an armed bodyguard – his children’s and his teammates. In the film, every time he’s asked how he feels about the record, Aaron says more or less the same thing: “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

Clearly, he could not and did not enjoy himself. “I’m extremely proud of the fact that I was able to accomplish what I did,” he says now. “But by the same token, it was hell. I caught a lot of hell. I was living in a bubble, really. I couldn’t go anywhere, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t enjoy my kids, I couldn’t enjoy the chase. I am really more at peace with myself now than I was then.”

Johnny Bench, the Cincinnati Reds’ Hall of Fame catcher, is shown at the end of  Chasing the Dream. He says that if he had accomplished what Aaron did, he might have it tattooed on his forehead. Aaron, a remarkably modest man, says he never thinks that way.

“Everything I accomplished in the 23 years in which I was blessed to have played, I have to give credit to a lot of people,” he says. “I played on some very good baseball teams; I played with some very good baseball players. . . . I was spared going into the (military) service, I didn’t have what they call major injuries. So I was blessed in more ways than one.”