I started out intending to write about the backyard Wiffle Ball games my family played at my grandparents’ house during my childhood. I think I’ll save that for another day. Instead I want to share some of my fondest baseball memories, which will almost (if not absolutely) all concern the Atlanta Braves.
I couldn’t tell you when I went to my first Braves game. I remember going to a game early in the 1982 season. That is the earliest I remember going, though I know I went before then. Those early games were something special.
My grandparents always went with us. Sometimes aunts and uncles would go as well. I’m not sure where our original tickets were, but we always sat in the field level seats. With the exception of 1982 (the Braves won the NL West) the stadium stayed nearly empty.
I don’t have any specific game memories. I have many memories of my surroundings, though. I vaguely remember the Bleacher Creature roaming the stands. I’m pretty sure I was terrified of him. Can you really blame me, though?
My favorite mascot was Chief Noc-a-homa. The chief had a teepee in the outfield bleachers. He would come out and dance on the surrounding platform during crucial moments of the action. Completely un-PC, but completely fun. I remember standing in a seemingly endless line (I was probably 6-7 years old, so endless means 10-15 minutes) to get his autograph.
I had many favorite players from that era. Bob Horner, Rick Mahler, Bruce Benedict, Glen Hubbard, Claudell Washington. But none of them could win my affection for Dale Murphy. Dale was a 2-time NL MVP, a 5-time gold glove winner, and an all-around good guy. I think it is a travesty of justice that he is not in the Baseball Hall-of-Fame. I mean, come on, the guy ran through a fence to catch a fly ball. (I really tried to find a video…no dice.)
The Braves of the 1980s occupy many of my favorite childhood memories. Here are some of my favorite moments: Pasqual Perez missing his debut because he got lost on I-285, chanting “Bruuuuuuuce” every time Benedict came to bat or threw out a base-runner, changing the last word of the National Anthem to "Braves," Gene Garber’s wind-up, the Stadium Howard Johnson, rain delays & rain-outs, and stadium give-aways.
I should elaborate on a couple of those. When we went to games, we always stayed at the Howard Johnson Inn. It sat just south of the stadium. It is long gone now. My aunt and uncle taught me to swim in the indoor pool at that hotel. Many of my early Braves memories center on walking back to the hotel because of…
Rain Delays. In my early years of baseball game attendance, I thought rain delays were the norm. I’m sure my memory is a little exaggerated, but I remember a span of years where every night game we attended was rained out. That meant we got to attend a double-header the next day.
The stadium give-away was one of my favorite parts of attending a game. Some were, of course better than others. I loved all of them though. Whatever I got, I kept for a long time. My favorites were my replica jersey and replica batting helmet. These became required attire for all holiday wiffle ball games. Thanks to my small stature and slow growth rate, they stayed a part of my wardrobe for many years. Other memorable give aways include an inflatable Delta 747, a Claudell Washington poster, a Dale Murphy poster, an oversized, inflatable bat, and the requisite miniature wooden bat (this one didn’t stay around long thanks to an encounter with my little sister).
Throughout the 80s, with the exception of 1982, the Braves were dreadful. But my affection never wavered. And our game attendance never waned. One of the last times I remember our family going to a game was 1991. It was an early season game against the Dodgers. The Braves were coming off of another last place season. The Dodgers were perennial contenders. It rained, of course, but not for long.
My grandparents and a couple of my cousins attended the game with us. Early in the game, after a short rain delay, the Braves began a rally. Men in scoring position, no outs, a slugger up to bat. At that moment, my cousin and I did something that began a trend.
He and I raised our arms, hands perpendicular to the earth, and began to chop. Then we began to chant “whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh. Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh.”
The Braves scored a couple of runs that inning. We did the same thing during the Braves’ next at-bat. By the end of that inning many other fans in our section joined in our chant. Late in the game, the Braves were trailing by a run. We chanted our support. By this time most of our section and many in the surrounding sections joined us. The Braves rallied and won the game. My cousin and I started a trend that persists to this day. “The Tomahawk Chop.”
That season marked a turning point for the Braves. I attended another game between the Braves and Dodgers late in the season. The atmosphere was completely different. The teams were battling for first place in their division. The stadium was packed. And all 52,000 of us were doing the “Tomahawk Chop.” The Braves went on to win their division, but lose the World Series.
Throughout the 90s I continued to attend the Braves’ games. Being in school at Auburn helped by cutting my travel time from 4-5 hours to 1 ½-2. My friend, Drew Spry, and I tried to take in at least 2-3 games a season. Those years saw some highlights.
We attended the first Wild Card playoff game hosted by Fulton County Stadium. We watched from the upper deck behind home plate as the Braves defeated the Rockies. The Braves went on to win the World Series.
Somewhere in the span of my years in Auburn I witnessed the best Major League baseball game I’ve ever seen. Drew and I drove over to Atlanta, and my brother met us there, to watch the Braves take on the Phillies. Most of the game proved uneventful, unless you were a Phillies fan. Going into the bottom of the 9th inning the Phils lead 8-1. Things looked bleak. We contemplated leaving early to beat traffic as much of the stadium had already done. Over my years as a fan and player of baseball I learned one thing: never leave a game early. This game solidified that notion.
The Braves scored 7 runs in the bottom of the 9th to take the game to extra innings. An amazing comeback. After that, the remaining fans were treated to 7 innings of nail-biting excitement. Each team got runners on base and into scoring position each of the six innings, but neither team could score. Finally, in the 15th inning, the Braves plated the winning run. Here’s a recap of the game from the NYT.
Never leave a baseball game early!
Over the next several years I averaged attending about a game a year. In 1997, we moved back to Florence and the trip was back to 5-6 hours. I still made it to a few games. Our move to Birmingham in 2000 made Atlanta an easier destination.
The last Braves game I attended was in 2003. It wasn’t in Atlanta, though. Living in Paducah, KY put us closer to St. Louis than Atlanta. That summer we took a vacation to “The Gateway to the West.” While there my son and I took in a Cards/Braves game at old Busch Stadium.
I’m ready to go back to Atlanta. We’ve talked about going to Hot-lanta for our family vacation this year. But I’d like to take in a game and I’m not sure the family will be up for it. Or if they’ll be willing to hold to my “never leave early” rule.
Heath Haddock and I talked about this last night, and I think I’ll propose it here. Who wants to go to Atlanta for a Braves game? Let’s pick a date and make it happen. Come on! Who’s with me?
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