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 Braves are an alltime flop Sports Illustrated baseball writer Jeff Pearlman checks in from, um, the Murph
Posted: Sunday October 11, 1998 03:07 PM
Here is my San Diego Padres' alltime team:
C: Benito Santiago Bench: Nate Colbert, Steve Finley, Terry Kennedy, Carmelo Martinez, Kevin McReynolds, Graig Nettles, Ozzie Smith Pitchers: Kevin Brown, Mark Davis, Goose Gossage, Andy Hawkins, Trevor Hoffman, Randy Jones, Tim Lollar, Dennis Rasmussen, Eric Show
The Atlanta Braves are more talented. Not the alltime Braves. The now Braves—1998 edition. Of the alltime Padres, only Brown (and Jones during his fluke Cy Young campaign of '76), could start in Atlanta this season. Of the infielders, only Templeton and his middle finger would make the lineup. The fact that Wiggins, an inconsistent drug addict, is San Diego's best second baseman says something—not only about Quilvio Veras, but also about the club's history. Simply, there ain't much. In three games against the '98 Padres—a team with lots of heart and lots of holes—the Braves have pitched well, played hard ... and scored three runs. It is the classic example of how paper matchups mean nothing. Paper is good for stuff like paper airplanes and paper hand puppets and paper footballs. Paper doesn't account for things like ... Heart: Atlanta has none. Or at least it's shown none. On this team, nobody ever screams. Nobody ever loses his cool or throws a helmet or tells a reporter to f--- off. Walt Weiss, the old Oakland shortstop, says the A's of the '80s had "characters." Jose Canseco, Carney Lansford, Rickey Henderson—guys who'd speak their minds, good or bad. The Braves of the '90s are vanilla pudding. They're the same after a win or a loss. Flat line on the heart monitor. No panic. Following Saturday's embarrassing 4-1 loss, outfielder Ryan Klesko answered 40 minutes worth of questions—no prob. Andres Galarraga was smiling. Gerald Williams talked about his haircut. The only angst was revealed by Chipper Jones, who—for the second game in a row—hid from the press in a back room. Managing: San Diego skipper Bruce Bochy is a players' guy. He mixes up lineups, keeps guys on their toes, yells little, befriends many. "He treats us all like human beings," says catcher Carlos Hernandez. "Everybody knows to be ready, because Bruce values every player on the team." Bochy also manages with an appreciated reckless abandon. On Thursday, he had Gwynn sacrifice bunt. Tony Gwynn. He lets Chris Gomez run freely. He's not an automatic 3-0 red-lighter. Atlanta's Bobby Cox, on the other hand, is dried prunes. There are no mustaches or beards on the Braves. No music in the clubhouse. As the Padres jam to Will Smith and the Backstreet Boys (no one's perfect), Atlanta thinks happy thoughts of lambs and pillows and little furry sheep ... in total silence. The Braves have looked tight. Rigid. Even Kerry Ligtenberg, the laid-back rookie reliever, has been walking around in a quiet daze. Kerry, are you guys tense? "No!" was the answer. It was tense. Fandom: More than 60,000 crazed, juiced, insane Padres supporters packed Jack Murphy (for pride's sake, the stadium's corporate name will not be used) for Saturday's game. They came dressed as Padres and baseballs and Juan Eichelberger. One fan, wearing a blue Civil War uniform, held a sign reading "Burn Atlanta Burn." He said he was General Sherman. When Hoffman enters the game to AC/DC's Hell's Bells, no one is sitting. In Atlanta, it's, well, different. Absolutely no pressure: San Diego loses, it loses. Expectations are so low, it doesn't matter. The Braves are playing to save history. Very few people remember the '80s Oakland A's as an alltime power because the '80s Oakland A's won just one World Series. The Braves are the team of the '90s, but they are not a dynasty. Not without another crown ...
A HEARTY CONGRATULATIONS to Gerald Williams, who set a League Championship Series record by striking out four times yesterday. This Old Milwaukee's for you. ... In Atlanta earlier in this week, the greatest Brave of all time, Hank Aaron, walked along the infield before Game 1, chatting with reporters and shaking hands with players. He wore a sports jacket and slacks, part of his uni as a member of the team's front office. Yesterday, Randy Jones, maybe the greatest Padre of all time, operated his barbeque stand in a Jack Murphy booth. He smelled like meat. ... On the flight from Atlanta to San Diego, American Airlines lost my luggage, then offered to pay $25. Do journalists dress that poorly?
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