I'm a typical male sports junkie, but I've sadly become jaded with age. As much as I love watching the games, I've lost interest in the players. I can't relate to them as humans, just like they can't relate to me as a paying customer...that's the bottom line. We just don't see eye-to-eye anymore. In fact, it's gotten so bad for me, from a purely theological perspective, the Catholic in me is legitimately concerned that someday my poor departed soul will be forced to spend an inordinate amount of time in Purgatory to make up for the sin of wasting so much time on earth following so many overpaid, self-absorbed, sometimes downright immoral, professional athletes. I mean, it's one thing to worship False Gods, it's another thing to worship False Gods who are also Jerks. Make no mistake, I'm not looking forward to explaining all this to St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.
Yet I stick with sports. The potential good of sports still, somehow, outweighs the ridiculously bad...the right still trumps the wrong. This was affirmed to me 20 years ago, and it's one of the reasons I still hang on to hope.
The 1991 Atlanta Braves had one of the most remarkable seasons in professional sports history...Storybook to say the least. After nearly a decade of futility, and seemingly out of nowhere, the '91 Braves soared from the depths of despair to the summit of the highest mountain, and they transformed a famously sleepy and lackluster pro sportstown into an avid, passionate fan base. They did it dramatically, night in and night out, scrapping and clawing their way to a Divisional championship over the perennial powerhouse LA Dodgers. A stronger-than-normal start to the season fizzled by the All-Star break and the Braves found themselves
some 8 games back in the standings. But they surged in July and August behind the strong young-armed pitching phenoms of John Smoltz, Tom Glavine and rookie Steve Avery; and the clutch-hitting of players like Ron Gant, David Justice, veteran Terry Pendleton, and scrap dog Mark Lemke. Week by week during that magical summer, the Braves pulled closer to the Dodgers and at the same time pulled more and more fans along for the ride.
Atlanta is a city with no geographical boundaries...it stretches in all directions endlessly, connected only by massive wide-laned superhighways. In many ways Atlanta is a Region, not a city. But during the summer of 1991 the sprawling metro area was unified and drawn together by a scrappy underdog baseball team. Apartment complexes along the I-85 corridor joined the upscale mansions in East Cobb. Inhabitants of gritty urban dwellings in Decatur shared the same passion for the Braves as those in the glistening high-rise condos in Buckhead. Fans
rushed home from work each night to catch the latest chapter of the unfolding drama. Late-night west coast trips spawned bleary-eyed water cooler discussions the following mornings. Pitching rotations were analyzed, hitting slumps were scrutinized, and missed opportunities were agonized like never before. By August, as the first place gap had tightened, the "Tomahawk Chop" was born, complete with a mesmerizing and infectious chant that drove opponents crazy and inspired the local team to new levels of greatness. On a good night, the chant would linger in the catacomb corridors of Fulton County Stadium long after dramatic victories, as smiling fans, complete strangers away from the ballpark, high-fived one another and dared to ask, "Can this team really pull it off?" The Braves spent almost the entire season in 2nd Place, dreaming of catching the Dodgers before time ran out. The final week of the season provided the pivotal, signature moment. In a key game against the defending champion Cincinatti Reds, the Braves came out flat and trailed 6-0 in early innings. But like a microcosm of their entire season, the Braves scrapped and clawed their way back into the game, and then pulled off a dramatic 7-6 victory highlighted by a monster 2-run homerun by David Justice in the 9th innning. Destiny was calling. John Smoltz pitched a complete-game victory over the Houston Astros on the final Saturday of the season, and the entire stadium, including the Braves players standing on the field, watched on the jumbotron as the Dodgers fell to the Giants on the west coast, thereby clinching the Division Championship for the Braves. Cinderella reincarnated.
The powerful Pittsburgh Pirates, a runner-up themselves the year prior, waited for the Braves in the NLCS. With the national spotlight shining brightly on them for the first time all season, the Braves magical season looked like it was nearing its end. After a sensational pitching performance from rookie Steve Avery in Game 2, a 1-0 shutout, the Pirates took 2 of 3 games in Atlanta to put the Braves on the brink of elimination. To keep the dream alive, the Braves would need to win consecutive games in chilly, rainy Pittsburgh. Avery spun another shutout masterpiece to help win Game 6, and John Smoltz started his "Big Game" aura that would stay with him his entire career in Game 7, a 4-0 Braves victory. The improbable Atlanta Braves were headed to their first World Series.
The city of Atlanta was now fully awash in Braves mania...24/7. The 1991 World Series between the Braves and the Minnesota Twins is still regarded as one of the finest of all time, played between the first 2 teams to ever go from Worst to First in their divisions. Five of the seven games were decided in the final at-bat. Game 3 alone packed more drama into its 12 innings than most 7-game series combined. The Braves needed 1 more win in the final 2 games in Minnesota to win their first World Series and complete their most improbable fairytale. But the magic stopped. Kirby Puckett won Game 6, first with his glove in the Top of the 11th, and then with one swing of his bat in the Bottom of the 11th. Game 7 was one for the ages, a pitching masterpiece between young John Smoltz against his idol, veteran Jack Morris. Morris pitched, astonishingly, a 10-inning complete game shutout, surviving a bases-loaded/nobody out jam in the 8th inning. Smoltz pitched shutout baseball into the 9th inning himself, only to watch as the Twins won the game dramatically in the Bottom of the 10th.
A dejected city of Atlanta unified one last time and threw a parade for the team, not for victory, but for pure gratitude. In hindsight, it was a magical 7 month odyssey that would spawn a generation of Braves excellence and a legion of fans across the country. A seven year old might have fallen in love with that '91 Braves team...many did...and that same fan would have turned 21 before the Braves relinquished their hold on Division Championships. 14 consecutive Divisions, 5 League Championships, and 1 World Series Championship...a dynasty by any definition.
While the team maintained a consistency unrivaled in pro sports, their fans, sadly, did not. By 1997, the fervor dissipated, complacency settled in, and Braves fans became more famous for their apathy than for the tomahawk chop they made so infamous. But the legacy of that '91 Braves team will live forever...for one glorious baseball season, from April-October, the city of Atlanta came alive and united like never before.
And that's why we follow pro sports.
No comments:
Post a Comment