Who Are These Guys?

When the Los Angeles Dodgers imperiled a 5-3 Atlanta Braves lead last Saturday by putting two runners on base against starter John Smoltz with no outs in the eighth inning, this is what Braves manager Bobby Cox had to choose from in his bullpen: two nondrafted pitchers signed out of independent leagues, a hyperactive lefthander whom neither the Arizona Diamondbacks nor the Tampa Bay Devil Rays had wanted in the expansion draft, a 5'10" journeyman who'd been cut from the Mexican winter league, an aging lefty with a 7.18 ERA over the past two years who'd been released by the Baltimore Orioles 18 days earlier and a 43-year-old formerly retired grandfather. Such a bunch of castaways were his bullpen crew that, as Cox motioned with his left arm toward the visitors' bullpen at Dodger Stadium, he might as well have been calling for the professor or Mary Ann.

The familiar dichotomy in Atlanta's pitching is more pronounced than ever. Once again the Braves have a starting staff that recalls the greatest rotations in history and a bullpen crew that recalls one of the greatest staples of home repair: duct tape. Atlanta's pen is cheap, utilitarian and—here's the surprising part—usually effective. With deposed closer Mark Wohlers in Triple A struggling to get his head together and his control back (box, page 30), the Braves are trying to pull off one of the biggest patch jobs ever as they search for a second championship in a seventh straight postseason appearance. "We're just a bunch of also-rans who are getting the job done," says lefthander Adam Butler of himself and his colleagues in the Atlanta pen.

Last Saturday, Cox pulled Smoltz, one of four Braves starters who have won 20 games in a season, and turned the two-run lead over to John Rocker, Rudy Seanez and Kerry Ligtenberg—all of whom were in the minor leagues at the beginning of August 1997. They nailed down the last six outs without incident. At week's end Rocker, Seanez and Ligtenberg were a combined 8-3 with a 2.56 ERA, 22 saves in 26 chances and an astounding 125 strikeouts in 105⅔ innings, not to mention a .193 batting average against, which means that collectively they whiff batters at a better rate than Philadelphia Phillies flamethrower Curt Schilling and are harder to hit than Atlanta ace Greg Maddux. "They don't get hit," Maddux says. "They may give up a run here or there, like everybody else, but they don't get hit. They all throw hard and strike people out. I'll take my chances with them."

Forgive the rest of baseball for snickering that the duct tape will not hold. Only Hitchcock had a reputation for producing more horrifying endings than the Braves' bullpen. That stigma, however, is largely undeserved. Yes, Atlanta is 13-20 this decade in postseason games decided by one run. Yes, its relievers are 5-8 in the postseason. (Its starters are 28-17.) But the pen has lost only two of the Braves' most recent 28 postseason games. The losing pitchers in Atlanta's last three elimination-game defeats, in 1997, '96 and '93, have been Tom Glavine once and Maddux twice. The Florida Marlins sent the Braves home last year by getting all their wins against Atlanta's Big Three: Maddux twice; Smoltz and Glavine, once each.

Here's a better reason to doubt the Braves' relievers: They may prosper with a comfy lead in August—Atlanta was 14½ games ahead of the second-place New York Mets in the National League East after Sunday's games—but can they withstand the crucible of October? Consider: The last pitch of every World Series this decade has been thrown by a reliever with the tying or winning run at bat or on base. In three of those seven instances the pitcher failed.

Assuming no miraculous recovery by Wohlers, Atlanta will hand the closer's load over to Ligtenberg, a shy rookie righthander who still lives with his parents in Cottage Grove, Minn. Four years ago he nearly accepted a job as a chemical engineer with 3M, which employs his father, Norm, in its safety and security divisions. Even if LIGHT-en-berg is easier to pronounce than to hit, remember this: Since 1969 no team has ever made it to the World Series with a rookie as its primary closer (chart, below). "Come on," says one National League general manager, "would you want to count on Kerry Ligtenberg as your closer in Game 7 of the playoffs?"

"Why not?" snaps Glavine. "How many seventh games has [the San Diego Padres'] Trevor Hoffman closed? What they're saying about our bullpen now is what they said about our starters in 1991—that we had no chance of winning because of no experience. Well, I'd rather have talent than experience."

Atlanta's bullpen figures to be fortified in October by righthanders Russ Springer, who is on the disabled list with a bone spur in his right elbow, and Kevin Millwood, who at the close of last weekend was 14-6 as the Braves' fifth starter. Meanwhile, Atlanta is so happy with Ligtenberg that general manager John Schuerholz said after failing to get Jeff Shaw from the Cincinnati Reds in July that he had abandoned his search for a big-name closer.

Ligtenberg, 27, has been more automatic than the light inside a refrigerator, which is nothing short of amazing for a guy who was not drafted in 1994. "I was a fifth-year senior [at Minnesota] who threw 84 miles per hour," he says. "I knew my chances were better of hitting the lottery than of getting drafted."

Only one lab course short of his chemical engineering degree, Ligtenberg was lining up a job at 3M when a buddy suggested they play for the Southern Minny Stars of the Prairie League, an independent minor league. His manager was Greg Olson, a former Atlanta catcher. After two seasons Olson recommended that the Braves sign Ligtenberg. They did, and they sent the Stars six dozen baseballs and two dozen bats in gratitude. Less than two years later, on Aug. 12, 1997, Ligtenberg was in the big leagues. The telephone rang in the Braves' bullpen that night; bullpen coach Ned Yost shouted, "Kerry, you're up!"