One day, Hank Aaron and I sat in a third party’s home, viewing a TV documentary made about his life.

He smiled wistfully when singer and civil-rights champion Harry Belafonte said, “Had Hank Aaron been white, he would be the fifth face on Mount Rushmore.”

He sat thoughtfully while digesting the words of Sandy Koufax, Bob Gibson, Mickey Mantle, Willie Stargell, Yogi Berra and other baseball greats of his era.

Then onto the TV screen popped Barry Bonds, a youthful 30 at the time.

Baseball royalty, the son of Bobby Bonds, godson of Willie Mays, distant cousin of Reggie Jackson, Bonds had a few words to say about Aaron’s breaking of the what-seemed- unbreakable home run record that had belonged to Babe Ruth.

“What Hank Aaron did,” Bonds said, “was impossible.”

Cut to the present.

Twelve years have passed since that documentary first aired. Bonds is now 10 shy of equaling Hammerin’ Hank’s 755 home runs.

They have a, well, bond. Aaron’s last season in the majors was 1976. He was 42 when he retired; Bonds is that age now. Each played the outfield.

And each knows what it is like to feel unwelcome and unwanted.

During the days Aaron was on the brink of breaking Ruth’s record, the commissioner threatened to suspend Aaron if he refused to play games on the road and allowed the Atlanta Braves to save him for the big day at home.

Aaron also was snubbed on the April 8, 1974, night in Atlanta when he did eclipse Ruth. Aides to the commissioner said Bowie Kuhn simply was too busy to attend. Aaron never forgave Kuhn for that.

It was bad enough when intolerant Americans were unkind to Aaron, flooding his home and home stadium with hate mail. But when the national pastime itself could do no better than send the commissioner’s proxy and his regrets, Aaron was made to feel like a hero, second-class.

Trying to guess how the inscrutable Bonds feels these days is anybody’s guess.

I am no fan of his. Thousands concur. He is unpopular in the extreme, thought of by many as conceited, cold-blooded and, most sinfully of all, a sportsman whose monumental deeds might not have been on the up-and-up.

Finding a public advocate for Bonds is like finding somebody who begs that Paris Hilton be spared from jail. Jay Leno’s sports-fan bandleader, Kevin Eubanks, often wears a baseball cap with “BONDS” printed on it. It is not the fashion industry’s most in-demand head wear.

Commissioner Bud Selig has yet to commit to being present for Bonds’ shining moment. Selig recently told the New York Times he will decide “when we get closer” and will base it on whatever up-to-the-minute knowledge he has of events at that time.

Meantime, Selig’s predecessor, Fay Vincent, has urged Selig to beg off on Bonds’ big day and “not honor him by his presence.”

Aaron himself has no intention of attending. Now 72, the current sultan of swat says he is tired of traveling and is “not going to fly to go see somebody hit a home run,” even though he does wish Bonds all the luck in the world.

Fair enough, although there were indications Aaron also might skip it even if Bonds should go for his 755th or 756th homer in Atlanta, which for Aaron would be within limo distance.

That would be intriguing if true.

Baseball never has disciplined Bonds in any way, shape or form with regard to suspected drug use. While others squirm over ongoing investigations or pay a steep price – the Yankees’ Jason Giambi soon could be the latest – Bonds goes blithely on his way, clobbering home runs.

His record-breaker could come in Milwaukee (June 18-20 or July 20-22), right under Selig’s nose.

It could come in Cincinnati (July 3-5), which is where Aaron tied the Babe’s record in 1974.

It could come in Chicago (July 16-19), when the Giants visit homer-happy Wrigley Field.

I don’t defend Barry Bonds. I don’t care for him much, although Joe DiMaggio, Ted Williams, Mays and others were not exactly Ernie Banks when it came to being humble and sociable.

But it seems to me that, barring undisputed proof by the time this historic home run arrives, Bonds rates a personal appearance and a handshake from the commissioner and at least a phone call or telegram from the incumbent record-holder.

Bonds is making history. People ought to try to be there.