SPECIAL: Leaving Fulton County; Your (My) Stories, Our Team
The Atlanta Braves stories continue. This time, I want to share my story. A moment so iconic, it’s probably a lot of your stories, too. October 14th, 1992, on a Wednesday night at Fulton County Stadium.
I’ll skip the obligatory introduction of this Atlanta Braves reflection. Most of you, if you have followed Tomahawk Take for the last two seasons, know me. There’s not much more I can say to set the background.
So, here goes nothing …
I love baseball. I love the Atlanta Braves. I became a Braves fan at a very early age. So early in fact, I can’t tell you how old I really was. For argument sake, let’s say I was old enough to talk and walk, barely.
My life, at least as far back as I can remember, started in Gadsden, Alabama. My grandfather loved sports. But he obsessed over Braves baseball. My mom loved baseball too, for some crazy reason, though, she clamored over this thing called a Big Red Machine. Whatever.
It was at an early age when I knew I liked the Braves. I liked baseball, but little did I know that the Atlanta Braves were about to become my obsession along with this wonderfully glorious game.
The Planting of the Seed
My love for Braves baseball was slowly cultivated over many, albeit depressing, years of Ted Turner’s Superstation, WTBS in the 1980’s.
My grandfather, after coming home from work at the Steel Mill, would flip over to the sounds of Skip Carey, Ernie Johnson, and Pete Van Wieren. They were the first voices I heard (paid attention to) after dinner, and the last ones heard before bed.
My moment that stopped time for me, wasn’t the game or the players, it was the voices. Oh those voices. They were as American as America’s Team. As soothing as ocean waves crashing on the shore, and as entertaining as an Alabama thunderstorm on a hot July night.
My best moments of the actual game were highlighted by guys like Bob Horner, Steve Bedrosian, Bruce Benedict, Claudell Washington, Glenn Hubbard, and the incomparable, Dale Murphy.
But if I had to pick one specific moment in time, where the world stopped turning, it would have to be game 7 of the 1992 National League Championship Series.
It Wasn’t Just Sid
Yes, Sid’s Slide was my “aha” moment, but not because of Sid Bream or Francisco Cabrera; It was Skip Carey.
Great stories have to have great story tellers. Atlanta had the best story tellers in the business. They forced themselves into our living room every night, and once a week on Sunday’s after church. No one but Vin Scully remains of the great story tellers in this game.
It’s 1992. I’m an Army Brat and we were living in California at the time, Monterey to be precise. I couldn’t tell you one detail about anything that happened that game, before Francisco Cabrera poked that fateful single between 3B and SS.
Skip, from my perspective, was like the grandpa you always wanted. That voice was timeless, it still is. Skip was my favorite thing about Atlanta Braves baseball.
“… a lot of room in right center, If he hits one there, we can dance in the streets. The 2-1. SWUNG, LINE DRIVE LEFT FIELD … ONE RUN IS IN, HERE COMES BREAM, HERE’S THE THROW TO THE PLATE, HE IS … SAFE! BRAVES WIN! BRAVES WIN! BRAVES WIN! BRAVES WIN! … BRAVES WIN! They may have to hospitalize Sid Bream”.
To this day, I honestly believe Skip had tears in his eyes in that exact moment; just like I did – and still do – every time I hear that call.
I still get chills and goosebumps as I write this. I was 13 years old; and I wept like a baby. I couldn’t stand up, emotionally drained of all strength. I was in the middle of my living room floor, on all fours, head buried in my hands, and bawling my eyes out. I couldn’t believe it.
The Rest, As They Say, Is History
It was that moment, that call, that voice, I was hooked. I was a lifer from that point on, and there was no turning back. At that moment, I was “Forever Brave”, and it was because of two so simple, yet very powerful words, so gracefully articulated by Skip Carey: BRAVES WIN! BRAVES WIN! BRAVES WIN! BRAVES WIN! It was almost as if angels were singing.
Thank you Skip. Thank you for the songs of Braves baseball. Thank you for being just as much of a fan as the rest of us. It always, always the highlights of my nights, and you never, ever let us down.
If I had the choice to have someone do the play-by-play of my life, it would be Skip Carey … followed by the re-air of the Magnificent 7.
“JUST LISTEN TO THIS CROWD!”
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