Before they were America's Team, they belonged to me.
Growing up in Marietta, Ga., the Braves were a huge part of my childhood. They first came to me through the steady tones of Ernie Johnson Sr., thanks to my dad, who always had the game on in the car or the house or in his basement workshop.
It didn't matter that they were mostly terrible, they were our team, the guys who deserved our allegiance no matter how many games they blew in the late innings or how many times they lost more than 90 games or finished last in the old NL West.
I remember practicing my new and unsteady reading and writing skills by jotting down their names on sheets of paper: Hank Aaron, Darrell Evans, Davey Johnson, Phil Niekro and the impossible to figure out Andy Messersmith.
Nothing gave a thrill to my young heart more than hearing the canned Road Runner "Beep! Beep!" whenever Ralph Garr stepped up to the plate.
And I couldn't believe it one year when I ended up on a Little League team called the Braves. Our blue jerseys looked nothing like those blue ones the Braves used to wear, but in my mind, they were just alike.
As I grew older, my love for the Braves grew into a passion for baseball, and after I began to drive, trips to old Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium were often taken to see the stars of the opposing teams.
Other than that surprising 1982 season, the Braves had still not learned how to win, so my friends and I went to watch the game. Any Braves victory was a bonus.
Consistent winning didn't come until a few years, after I began my career as a sportswriter. The unbelievable 1991 worst-to-first story couldn't help but warm my heart, and I was in the stands for both Game 5 of the NLCS and the World Series that magical fall.
It's still tough to believe that the Braves couldn't win one of those last two games in Minnesota.
Gradually I began covering more Braves games – first for the Athens Banner-Herald and then for the Augusta Chronicle and Morris News Service – so going to the games became a part of the job.
Impartiality and cynicism replaced passion for the team I grew up with, although I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when Marquis Grissom caught the final out to secure the Braves' first World Series title since 1957.
My career has taken me to a few more cities and jobs since 1995, and I've covered many Braves games during that time. I've been there for Spring Training, the regular season and the playoffs. I covered the first game at Turner Field, the first interleague game there and countless others since then.
And now I'll be writing about the Braves for FOXSportsSouth.com.
I strive to provide an inside look at this year's team through interviews with the players, coaching staff and front office, and with stories and analysis throughout the season.
I'll look back at some Braves teams and players from the past and look ahead to the top prospects in the minors.
And I like to think my spelling and writing skills have improved from those days so many years ago, when love for those struggling Braves teams filled a young boy's heart.
