Turner Field, Familiar Ground, Go Braves!

Randy’s Perspective

April 29, 2013


Atlanta Braves 3, Washington Nationals 2


I love Atlanta, Georgia, although I can’t explain why. It’s hot much of the year, and it’s crowded. Traffic is a bitch. On the other hand, there is a lot to do there. And it’s usually not cold.


Atlanta is kind of home in the sense that it was the nearest city to me for most of my life, but, then again, it’s not really home. Especially now. The Atlanta that I knew when I was a kid in the sixties and early seventies (living in nearby Anderson, South Carolina) is long gone. Back then when you drove through Atlanta, it was cool to look over at the city and see the “blue bubble,” a revolving, blue-domed restaurant at the top of the Hyatt Regency. Now, when you look at the downtown skyline, you can’t even find the once-famous Hyatt.


Atlanta also only slightly resembles the place I visited so often when I was student at the University of Georgia (an hour away). Back then, I hit Atlanta every chance I got. I even started a tradition. Beginning in 1977, I ran the Peachtree Road Race, the world's largest 10K race, for 13 straight years. The race starts at Lenox Square, runs through Buckhead and ends in Piedmont Park.


Here's a Peachtree story for all parents. Following an eight-year break, I ran the Peachtree Road Race again, this time with my then 12-year-old daughter Kelli. Man, I love kids. They're so predictable. She ran really well for close to four miles, but then she started fading. By mile five she was struggling, mile six she was dying.


I was the supportive dad. "You can do it, Kelli. You're doing great!" ... "Hang in there, you're terrific. Proud of you." ... "It's ok if you need to walk again. Don't worry about it. You're a credit to the Peachtree Road Race." ... And then, finally: "There it is Kelli! The finish line! We're 100 yards away. They take your picture when you cross the line. We can cross together. Cool, huh?!"


My sweet little daughter took off like a bat out of hell, weaving through people and sprinting to the finish line.


And the moral to the story is: No matter how much you love your children, never completely trust them.






I digressed. Back to Atlanta. These days, Atlanta’s just big. Period. It used to be cool and charming and happening – and it might still be. But since I seldom go there any more, to me it’s just big.


In fact, talking about skylines, there actually is no longer just an Atlanta skyline. There’s the downtown skyline, the midtown skyline and the skylines that have popped up on the I-285 perimeter.


I would guess that Atlanta’s metropolitan population was about 2.5 to 3 million when I was a student at UGA (late 70’s/early 80’s). That population now is 5.5 million.


A humorist, the late Lewis Grizzard, lived in Atlanta most of his life. He had a terrific line: “Atlanta’s gonna be a great city when they finish it.”


By the way, Grizzard wrote one of my favorite books of all time. It’s called If I Ever Get Back Georgia, I’m Gonna Nail My Feet to the Ground. It’s the story of Grizzard’s life as a newspaperman, including his two lonely years in Chicago as sports editor of the Sun-Times. Critics have challenged the accuracy of some of Grizzard’s memories, but the man could write.


Oh, wait, Grizzard also said this: “Life is like a dog-sled team. If you ain’t the lead dog, the scenery never changes.”






The first time I saw the Atlanta Braves was July 29, 1967. My father, a Cardinals fan since his childhood, took me to a Braves-Cardinals game. It was either Friday or Saturday night, I can’t remember which. It was phenomenal.


After a two-hour rain delay, we watched the Cardinals win 6-0. Lou Brock opened the game with a double that would have been a single for anybody else. He hit the ball into shallow left-centerfield, and there had been so much rain the ball just kind of splashed down to a dribble when it hit the ground. Brock never stopped at first, he just kept going. Slid into second safe by a country mile.


Orlando Cepeda (later a Brave), Tim McCarver and Roger Maris hit home runs for the Cardinals that night. Steve Carlton was the winning pitcher, Tony Cloninger the loser.


I couldn’t believe how hard Carlton threw the ball.






It’s not like I’ve seen a thousand games in Atlanta, but I have probably seen something like 25 or 30. Ninety percent of them pre-dated Turner Field.


Here are a few things I saw live or experienced at old Atlanta Stadium (aka Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium) during Braves games:

I saw shortstop Woody Woodward’s only home run in his nine-year Major League career. I remembered that he said something funny after the game. Ah, the wonders of the Internet. I looked it up, and here’s what he said: "If I hit one home run per every seven seasons, it will take me 4,998 seasons to catch Babe Ruth.”
I saw at least five Hank Aaron home runs and probably considerably more that that by Dale Murphy. By the way, I’ve mentioned that I was a sportswriter early in my career. Dale Murphy was by far the nicest athlete I ever interviewed.
I almost caught a foul ball off the bat of the great Willie McCovey. Here’s the weird thing about that. My college roommate, Rick Bazemore, and I were traveling back to Athens from Rome, Georgia (another story) one night in May (1979, I think). It was early season. Rick was not a big baseball fan, but he was a good sport. Our trip on I-75/85 took us right by Atlanta Stadium during the late innings of a night game with the Giants. We pulled off, grabbed a parking space close to the stadium and walked in during the top of the 7th inning. Nobody was at the gate and the crowd was small – it was a different day and time. I was walking ahead of Rick, and we headed down some steps toward empty seats above the first-base dugout. McCovey, if anyone remembers him, was an intimidating left-handed hitter. More than 500 career homers. Somehow, he got way around on a pitch and connected with the ball on a kind of check-swung. The ball was a soft popup and came my way. It hit a couple of bleachers and bounced into the aisle – not two rows below my feet. I started reaching down almost nonchalantly, intending to snag the ball, when a dude came almost diving from my right. He jumped in front of me and grabbed the baseball. In retrospect, I couldn’t believe I wasn’t more aggressive going after the ball. But perhaps it was Karma. Remember, we didn’t pay to get in.
Speaking of aggressiveness, I was in the press box one night, covering a game with the Dodgers, when I saw a screaming, hair-pulling fight break out in the stands immediately below me between two girls. I just happened to look down when one girl was poking her finger on the other’s forehead. All of a sudden, the one getting poked in the forehead lunged and swung – and all hell broke loose.
The above-mentioned fight broke out during a game where Dodgers’ second baseman Steve Sax threw the ball away twice on routine throws to first. He did that several times that season. It was a strange kind of throwing slump.
While still on the Dodgers, I saw the Braves break Fernando Valenzuela’s winning streak in 1981.
I’m still amazed at the Braves’ mascot during those first 25 years or so in Atlanta. He was Chief Noc-A-Homa. He had a teepee in the left-field bleachers. Look this up. When the Braves took his tent down near the end of the season to get Atlanta Stadium ready for football, they would take Noc-A-Homa’s tent away and the Braves would start losing. In 1982, they had their division sewn up, but they took down the tent and lost 19 out of 21. They put the tent back up and clinched first.


Ok, I could keep going on those memories, but I’ll and get to the present.


Wait, one more thing. Whereas I saw quite a few Braves games live, I watched a thousand on Ted Turner’s Cable TV SuperStation. Before it was TBS, the station started off as WTCG, channel 17 (independent) in Atlanta. Every Braves game was on WTCG. And in 1976, when Ted Turner, in a brilliant move, started beaming his little station around the world via the blossoming cable TV market, the Braves acquired a cult national following.


Thing is, they weren’t too good most of the time. It was like cheering for the Cubs. The Braves had a few good years, such as Joe Torre’s early years as manager. But mostly they stunk. They were fun to watch, though. And a lot of people around the country did that for the next three decades.


Then, in a remarkable turnaround, the Braves got extremely good, starting in 1991. The people that adopted the Braves because they were lovably bad now got to watch great teams that won pennants and went to World Series.


In fact, I’m still aggravated that the business world took over the Braves. TBS outgrew showing the Braves every night. The team’s cable contract now is with SportsSouth, which we don’t get in Vienna, West Virginia.


Adding insult to injury, since their early days in Atlanta, the Braves were carried on radio by WSB, a clear-channel, 50,000-watt station that we can clearly receive in Vienna. I could listen to the Braves any time I wanted. But now, the Braves are no longer carried by WSB. It’s obviously a conspiracy by the Braves to ruin their brand.


I almost dropped my team loyalty out of protest, but the damned Braves keep winning just enough to keep me fully invested.






Penny and I, thankfully, had a great night of baseball in Atlanta, which made me really happy. I actually tried to play down the Atlanta trip to Penny, leaving her to make up her mind without any attempted influence from me. (Come to think of it, what am I thinking? I have little to no influence over Penny’s thinking.)


Anyway, we got to park early enough to get into the Chop House restaurant. Luckily, we got one of the tables closest to the field. We watched batting practice while enjoying an especially good meal and cold brews.


It was a nice night, temperatures in the 70’s.


After we left the in-stadium bar and grill, we cruised around the games area and the shops, then headed to our seats above the first-base dugout.


I’m happy to report that Atlanta was as I had experienced many times in the past. It was an “into it” crowd from the first pitch.


The Braves were playing the Nationals, who were allegedly supposed to win the NL East in a rout. But the Braves were in first place and the Nats were struggling. In fact, Strasburg was on the mound again for Washington, as he was on Opening Day when we were in Washington. He was strong, but he gave up two runs and was gone by the sixth.


The Braves got some timely hitting and won 3-2.


Here was the coolest thing of the night. Craig Kimbrell, a fire-balling closer, came in to pitch the ninth. To signal his entrance, the scoreboards (all lighted signage, in fact) went black. Then a creeping flame started at the bottom of the scoreboard and kept getting bigger until it appeared to consume the whole thing.


Here’s a shaky video that gives you the idea: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiUXMhNbnUw






And, yes, the scoreboard, is outstanding.