• The Top 10s of the 2010s

    The Newest Baby Braves Usher in a New Era

    The Top 10 of the 2010s, Part 5

    By Bud L. Ellis

    BravesWire.com

    ATLANTA – We conclude my look back at the top 10 most memorable moments of Braves baseball I watched in person in the 2010s with a focus on the franchise’s emergence from the painful rebuild with the National League East clincher in 2018, followed by a slamming announcement of arrival in Atlanta’s first playoff game victory in five years in that season’s NLDS.

    Did you miss part of the series? Check out the previous entries below:

    Part 1: A Big Bang … Then a Choke

    Part 2: What Could’ve, Should’ve, Would’ve Been

    Part 3: Saying Goodbye to The Skipper, and The Ted

    Part 4: Stunned Silence After a Pair of Gut-Wrenching Losses

    The Braves Are Back: Sept. 22, 2018

    At Long and Blessed Last, the Painful Rebuild Ends

    I stood in a cigar shop off Ga. 400 north of Cumming on the morning of Sept. 22, 2018. A cooler inside my SUV held two bottles of champagne, chilling on ice and poised for the day. As I picked out a couple of stogies (I reserve a good cigar for special occasions), the guy behind the counter looked at my Braves jersey.

    “It’s been a long time coming,” he said, smiling. “It’s so great the Braves are back.”

    That fourth Saturday in September took me back, way back, to my much younger days when it felt like popping bottles late in the year’s ninth month was a birthright. The Braves began 2018 hoping to make progress out of a four-year rebuild, with an international front-office scandal just five months prior still a gaping wound.

    On this platform, I picked the Braves to improve from 72 wins in 2017 to 80 wins in 2018, and I heard quite a bit about that from some folks.

    Turns out, we all were wrong.

    The Braves thrilled us during a dizzying ride though a 90-win regular season, with walk-off victories and emerging young stars as far as the eye could see, the pieces of the puzzle starting to join together to produce something not even the most ardent, optimistic Braves fan could’ve expected when the season commenced. Even how it started was quite remarkable: Nick Markakis blasting a walk-off homer in the bottom of the ninth as a thunderstorm approached SunTrust Park to cap a five-run rally and lift the Braves past Philadelphia.

    While there were fits and starts, overall, that moment in the season opener seemed to galvanize this team. An early-September weekend in Arizona produced two heart-stopping victories, and I’ve said time and time again the Braves won the East in the desert those two games. But the official moment would come at 3:44 p.m. two weekends later, on a sun-splashed Saturday at SunTrust Park, when Ronald Acuna Jr. gloved the final out in left field.

    Freddie Freeman raised both arms into the air, as if finally freed from the purgatory of rebuilding. Brian Snitker, the lifelong Brave, fought back tears while being interviewed on national TV. A few moments earlier, as that fly ball settled in Acuna’s glove, Fox Sports national baseball announced Joe Davis uttered the same words the dude at the cigar shop said to me about six hours earlier: “The Braves are back.”

    And inside the ballpark, it was a party that had been a half-decade in the making, the joyous release of five years of frustration and pain and embarrassment. It hit me at some point during the celebration why I felt just delirious. Sure, I had just witnessed the Braves clinching something (division, wild card, playoff series victory, pennant, World Series title) in person for the seventh time. But it had been more than a hot minute. The last clinch I saw: way back to Game 7 of the 1996 National League Championship Series.

    I sat in Lot 29, finished my preview of Sunday’s game, then fired up that cigar and popped open one bottle of champagne. As I watched so many people walk past me and saw the sheer joy on their faces, it occurred to me that a whole new group of fans was experiencing what I got to enjoy so much in my late teens and throughout my 20s.

    I smiled with each delicious sip of bubbly. The rebuild, at long and blessed last, officially over.

    Indeed, the Braves are back.

    My God! He’s Just a Child: Oct. 7, 2018

    Acuna’s Slam Hints of Great Things to Come

    Look, let’s face it. The Braves exited the rebuild earlier than any of us expected. We saw an improving team with a lot of questions as the 2018 season dawned, figuring we had another season or two before contention would be realistic. Yeah, right. All the Braves did was squash that preordained timeline by winning 90 games and claiming the National League East for the first time in five seasons. And a big reason why was a 20-year-old outfielder from Venezuela who made his major-league debut in late April, smash a jaw-dropping homer in his second big-league game and never looked back en route to NL rookie of the year honors.

    But what Ronald Acuna Jr. did on the first Sunday in October 2018 just didn’t propel Atlanta to its first postseason victory in 1,829 days. It announced to the rest of the baseball world that the Braves were back and were going to be a problem for opposing teams for years to come.

    The first home playoff game in the history of SunTrust Park was met with sheer exuberance from those of us fortunate enough to be there, along with the millions in Braves Country who dreamed of this through every moment of the rebuild. Acuna, with his million-watt smile and unbridled passion, led the way through the regular season as the Braves buried the old narrative and emerged as a playoff team. Granted, it was hard to see any way past the mighty Dodgers in the NLDS, a thought reinforced when Los Angeles outscored Atlanta 9-0 in taking the first two games of the series in Chavez Ravine.

    The series shifted to the South’s capital city and we took full advantage of the moment. The tailgate party in Lot 29 was the best I’ve experienced in years of pre-gaming with Braves fans. There was an aura of, “we’re here, so let’s go” that permeated through everyone amid the smoke from the grills and the flowing of beverages. Perhaps it was five years of pent-up frustration. Perhaps it was the realization that playoff baseball was back in Atlanta after half a decade, in the Braves’ sparkling new palace.

    And while they lost this series in four games, one magical swing in the second inning of Game 3 served notice that the Braves were back on the national stage.

    Acuna found himself in the on-deck circle as starting pitcher Sean Newcomb worked a four-pitch walk against Dodgers rookie Walker Buehler to drive home Atlanta’s first run of the series. With everybody standing and the new ballpark shaking, Acuna stepped to the plate and took three balls from the Los Angeles right-hander.

    The fans in the yard were screaming. My oldest son leaned into my left ear and screamed, “he’s going to walk him. He can’t give up a big hit right here.” I agreed. Buehler responded with a fastball high in the zone, a pitch inexcusably called a strike. The crowd, in full lather and sounding like the old Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium assemblies in the 1990s, howled its disapproval. At that moment, I was hoping Acuna would settle himself after the blatant missed call, and simply drive the ball somewhere to plate a run or two.

    He did much, much better than that.

    Acuna’s swing at the 3-1 pitch not only made him the youngest player in MLB history to launch a grand slam in a postseason game, not only put the Braves ahead 5-0, it delivered a definitive message to the rest of the majors. This team, one that had lost 89-plus games for four straight seasons, not only was here, it was here to play. I screamed above the din to my son, “My God! He’s just a child!” Again, nobody gave the Braves a chance in the series and understandably so, but in Atlanta’s first playoff game held in its shiny new field of dreams, a small part of the payoff was realized, thanks in large part to Acuna.

    Yes, the Braves won 6-5 in Game 3, surviving a furious rally (the Dodgers were so, so much better, to be honest) as Freddie Freeman launched a go-ahead solo blast. And almost as noteworthy, the nation saw the vision behind the ballpark and The Battery Atlanta realized on that Sunday night. We started tailgating before noon, some eight hours before first pitch, and traffic already was stacked around the area. It truly felt like a college football Saturday in Athens, or on the plains of Auburn, or along the river in Knoxville, in the hours leading up to the game. Afterward, the party raged in The Battery.

    It wasn’t just a game. It was an event. The Braves hit a grand slam by securing the land at the confluences of Interstates 75 and 285 on the northwestern rim of the city, and this moment was one the franchise surely had in mind in November 2013 when it announced the move from downtown. And for the first time, the genius of that bold move was realized the day of Game 3 of the 2018 NLDS, a game won in part by the brightest star of Atlanta’s rebuild stepping into the national spotlight and delivering a grand slam of his own.

    Author’s note: All the moments in this series are special to me, and I hope I’ve articulated why well enough the past five days. But if I had to pick a favorite, Acuna’s grand slam would top the list.

    —30—

    Bud L. Ellis is a lifelong Braves fan who worked as a sports writer for daily newspapers throughout Georgia earlier in his writing career, with duties including covering the Atlanta Braves, the World Series and MLB’s All-Star Game. Ellis currently lives in the Atlanta suburbs and contributes his thoughts on Braves baseball and MLB for a variety of outlets. Reach him on Twitter at @bud006.

    Stunned Silence After a Pair of Gut-Wrenching Losses

    The Top 10s of the 2010s, Part 4

    By Bud L. Ellis

    BravesWire.com

    ATLANTA – Welcome to part four of my top 10 most memorable moments of Braves baseball I watched in person in the 2010s, where we remember two of the most stunning losses in Braves franchise history, let alone just this decade: The ninth-inning implosion in Game 3 of the 2010 NL Division Series against the Giants and the impact it had on me after what happened that offseason, and two years later, the game not-so-fondly remembered as The Infield Fly Game (the 2012 NL Wild Card Game).

    You’re invited to catch up on the previous entries below:

    Part 1: A Big Bang … Then a Choke

    Part 2: What Could’ve, Should’ve, Would’ve Been

    Part 3: Saying Goodbye to The Skipper, and The Ted

    From Elation to Excruciation: Oct. 10, 2010

    A Painful Playoff Defeat, Followed by a Much Bigger Loss

    I dreamed of this moment from the time I accepted a newspaper job in the Atlanta suburbs and moved back from the Georgia coast in August 2006 with my wife and two preschool-aged kids in tow. The chance to raise our kids in the city where my wife and I both grew up, to experience life with both sides of our family and, hopefully, to share moments like the second Sunday of October 2010:

    My two boys’ first experience attending Choptober Baseball.

    We grilled hot dogs in the parking lot and my kids tossed a football with my wife’s uncle Billy. His being there made this day all the more special. He wasn’t just family; he had become one of my best friends. He worked for Delta as a mechanic and before he got married, Billy often would fly down to the coast on weekends and hang out with his favorite niece and her sports-loving husband. We would talk life, investments, fishing, Braves baseball, Georgia football and, starting in 2002 when my oldest was born, parenting.

    When I covered UGA in the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans on New Year’s Day 2003, I was able – as a credentialed member of the media covering the game – to buy two tickets at face value. I bought one for my best friend since middle school. I bought the other one for Billy. He married his wife in 2004; my oldest was the ring bearer, while I held my youngest in my arms during the ceremony. And now, we were at the NL Division Series, the wild-card Braves and NL West champs Giants tied at a game apiece. My sons’ first playoff game. My first postseason game since covering Game 2 of the 1999 World Series.

    It was, to me, absolute perfection. Billy and his wife, sitting a few rows down from us, delivering a whole pizza for the boys to consume in the fourth inning with the Braves trailing 1-0. Tim Hudson grinding through seven strong innings, surrendering only an unearned run on Brooks Conrad’s second error of the game. Jonathan Sanchez no-hitting the Braves until Huddy singled in the sixth. Tight. Tense. Can’t-breathe baseball, just like I watched in Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium in Octobers past, before I ever dreamed I’d be a husband, let alone a father times two.

    Then, the magical eighth. Alex Gonzalez’s leadoff single and, two hitters later, pinch-hitter Eric Hinske’s laser that just got over wall in the right-field corner. Turner Field absolutely turned upside down. It was the loudest I ever heard that ballpark. In the upper deck, you could feel the stadium swaying, and my 7-year-old screamed into my ear as I held him in my arms, “Daddy, the stadium’s shaking!”

    I screamed back, “this is how it used to be across the street!”

    Then, the ninth inning. You know the story. The rookie Craig Kimbrel, one strike away from nailing down the save, gave up a 1-2 single. Mike Dunn surrendered the game-tying hit. The Giants took the lead on Conrad’s third error of the game, won 3-2 to take a 2-1 series lead, and would finish the Braves and end Bobby Cox’s managerial career one night later.

    Leaving that night was devastating. My wife kept telling me, “it’s alright. We’re going to win tomorrow.” But my boys were crestfallen. Even the always upbeat, ever-grounded Billy admitted, “that’s tough to take.” I couldn’t imagine a worse ending. Yes, attending the three 1996 World Series games in Atlanta was awful. But this was my boys’ first playoff game. This was a moment Billy and I talked about back when I lived on the beach and the kids were in diapers, that one day we’d all cheer on the Braves to October glory together.

    I felt crushed. Nobody said anything on the way home. But as always, I started thinking of next season. We’ll get it right. We’re going to storm through the playoffs, and all of us will be there together to see it.

    Then came the phone call in January 2011, my wife crying uncontrollably on the other end. Billy had collapsed. By the time she got to the hospital, he was gone. Heart attack. 50 years old. A few days later, I delivered the eulogy at his funeral. I shared our Game 3 experience, him serving hot dogs to my kids, how he turned and pumped his fist at us after Hinske’s homer, how he patted my shoulder postgame as we walked down the stairs to the left-field gate.

    Not a day goes by that I don’t think of Billy. And while Game 3 in 2010 is heartbreaking to so many, excuse me if I say this one hurts me on a different level. My dear friend’s final time watching his ballclub play.

    The Infield-Fly Rule, Ruined Forever: Oct. 5, 2012

    One of MLB’s Worst Calls Ever Incenses Braves Country

    It was Oct. 2, 2012, and I sat in the third-base dugout at Coal Mountain Park in northern Forsyth County, Ga. Fall baseball, and my 10-year-old was behind the plate, getting extra reps after a full season of travel baseball. The few moments we had free that spring and summer, we snuck down to Turner Field to cheer the Braves to a playoff spot, one that young (how strange that is to type at this decade’s conclusion) first baseman Freddie Freeman clinched with a walk-off homer against Miami one week before.

    As the second inning began, I got my son’s attention and held up five fingers, and he nodded. He knew no 10-year-old throws five pitches. He turned to the home-plate ump and shared the news with him: The wild-card game would start at 5 p.m. Friday. I swear, we got three or four borderline calls that night (for the record, we knew the home-plate ump and we knew he had corporate tickets; he may or may not have delayed the bottom of the second inning texting people after the news broke … To be fair, the opposing head coach was on the phone a good bit after the ump shared the news with him).

    Fast-forward three days. A 5 p.m. first pitch on the first Friday in October, so that meant I checked the kid out of school at 11 a.m. and headed inside the perimeter. We gathered with friends on the grassy knoll across Hank Aaron Boulevard from the right-field gate, tossing a football while watching the most impressive tailgate setup I’ve ever seen roll in a few hours before first pitch, a long-bed pickup truck complete with multiple TVs streaming sports, open bars along each side of the truck, the whole nine yards.

    There is zero value in sharing the proceedings of what happened inside Turner Field that evening. All it would do is fire me up like it happened seven minutes ago, not seven years ago (although my son and I still cuss it at every mention). I am thankful we had seats high in the upper deck. As the bottles rained down on the playing surface after Sam Holbrook lost his freaking mind and made that unbelievable, inexcusable, garbage call, I couldn’t help but think how cursed my city was when it comes to big sports moments, while making sure my 10-year-old didn’t wear a Bud Light bottle across the back of his neck.

    Niekro getting rained out in the 82 NLCS opener, one out from an official game? Game 7 in 91 in the awful Metrodome? Games 3, 4 and 5 in 96, in a stadium in which I sat in the upper deck hoping to see the Braves win the World Series in person for the second straight October? The 18-inning loss in Houston in 05? All the other playoff missteps in the late 90s and the 2000s? The Falcons and Eugene Robinson the night before the franchise’s first Super Bowl appearance in January 1999? Cliff Levington’s ill-fated left hook in The Omni against Boston in Game 6 of the East semis in 1988, with a conference finals berth on the line? The Falcons with a lead at home against the Cowboys in the NFC semis in January 1981 before Danny White took over in the final minutes? The Thrashers going belly-up in the first round of 2007 against the Rangers? The “most excellent” insult from the IOC at the conclusion of the 96 Olympics?

    After the wild-card game, sitting on the trunk of my car with the windows down and the Braves Radio Network postgame show playing, my son and I were silent. We sat there for at least an hour. Neither of us said a single word. In retrospect, the Braves flubbed up plenty of chances in the decade. They didn’t need any help.

    But at the worst possible time, Holbrook made a call that will live in franchise infamy for as long as the Braves exist.

    —30—

    On Deck: The Newest Baby Braves Usher in a New Era

    Bud L. Ellis is a lifelong Braves fan who worked as a sports writer for daily newspapers throughout Georgia earlier in his writing career, with duties including covering the Atlanta Braves, the World Series and MLB’s All-Star Game. Ellis currently lives in the Atlanta suburbs and contributes his thoughts on Braves baseball and MLB for a variety of outlets. Reach him on Twitter at @bud006.

    Saying Goodbye to The Skipper, and The Ted

    The Top 10s of the 2010s, Part 3

    By Bud L. Ellis

    BravesWire.com

    ATLANTA – We continue looking back at my top 10 most memorable moments of Braves baseball I watched in person in the 2010s with part three, a focus on two farewells: Bobby Cox’s last game as manager before retiring, and the final game held at Turner Field in 2016.

    As a reminder, you can check out previous entries in the series below:

    Part 1: A Big Bang … Then A Choke

    Part 2: What Could’ve, Should’ve, Would’ve Been

    The Skipper’s Final Ride: Oct. 11, 2010

    Bobby’s Hall of Fame Career Ends with Game 4 Loss to Giants

    Say what you will about his bullpen management, his lineup construction, his postseason win/loss record. But let me say this. I said it as a kid watching him manage my hometown team in the late 1970s and early 1980s. I said it as a young sports writer who on occasion got to cover his teams and deal with him. I said it after watching his daughter play in the state softball playoffs in Columbus one year, when I kindly asked him if I could speak to him about being a dad and not a major-league manager, a moment he recalled the next spring when I found myself ducking into his office at his main job for a few pregame thoughts.

    I appreciate Bobby Cox.

    Sure, you can beat the drum all you want about winning only one World Series championship during the great run of the 1990s and the first part of the 2000s. That’s fair. I think about sitting next to him in the first-base dugout at Champion Stadium during spring training in 2005 in Lake Buena Vista, Fla., asking if he had a moment to talk about what spring training was like in the 1960s when he was a hopeful major leaguer, for a front-page story I was working on about how the Grapefruit League had become big business, and him chatting with me for 15 minutes like I had been on the beat for 20 years.

    I think about watching him take grounders at first base during batting practice in 2000, when I got to cover a few home games in the first half of the season. Hearing those spikes click-clacking along the concrete walkway from the locker room to the first-base dugout at Turner Field. Seeing that mini-fridge in his office with the glass door that held his postgame beverages and tobacco.

    Mostly, I think about how much he loved being at the ballpark, talking shop, those quips of “c’mon kid!” the dugout mics would pick up, and how hard he fought for his players.

    It didn’t matter if you were the 25th man on the roster or a suburban newspaper reporter who occasionally dropped in to ask a question. Bobby Cox treated you with like you were a superstar or a full-time beat writer. To me, it was quite fitting that somebody who was so similar to him but plied his craft on the opposite coast, Bruce Bochy of the Giants, would be in the opposing dugout for the legendary Braves skipper’s final game, Game 4 of the 2010 NL Division Series at Turner Field.

    Atlanta, by all rights, should’ve been ahead 2-1 in the best-of-five series. The bottom line is they weren’t, and as I watched the game with my best friend from the outfield bleachers, it was in the back of our minds this could be Bobby’s last game. Brian McCann’s homer off Madison Bumgarner in the sixth snapped a 1-all tie, but Alex Gonzalez’s error in the seventh led to two runs scoring. The Braves got the tying and winning runs on base in the ninth, only to see one of my least-favorite Braves of all time, Melky Cabrera, ground out.

    When it was finished, everybody in Turner Field realized far more than a season had ended. Bochy did, too, so he instructed his Giants to applaud the Atlanta skipper while on the field during the aftermath of the series-ending victory. That singular gesture from one classy professional – who recognized the moment – to another brought tears to our eyes. Yes, the Braves should’ve won that series. They didn’t, but Bochy recognized the finality of the moment in his team’s own moment of triumph. I was proud to stand in SunTrust Park on Sept. 22, 2019, and cheer for Bochy during his final visit to Atlanta and final road game as Giants skipper.

    And what happened after the Game 4 loss and the team filed into the locker room? Cox, who never liked to go into the locker room, held court long into the night with his players. Perfect. How else would this baseball lifer close up shop on his final day on the clock than talking about the sport he loved?

    One Last Time at the Ted: Oct. 2, 2016

    Closing 50 Years of Ball Downtown with a Playoff-Type Victory

    There should’ve been zero reason for a postseason-esque buzz walking into Turner Field on Oct. 2, 2016. The Braves were 67-93 entering the finale of another lost season (remember, Atlanta played just 161 games that season, as the game seven days earlier in Miami was cancelled following the tragic death of one of my favorite non-Braves of all time, the brilliant and transcendent Jose Fernandez).

    The Braves had endured a brutal start to the season but actually played well at times in the second half, entering the season finale winning 17 of its previous 27 games. Dansby Swanson had taken over at shortstop after being promoted in early August, and interim manager Brian Snitker had steadied things somewhat following the early May firing of dead-man-walking Fredi Gonzalez. As best he could, because this team wasn’t very good.

    I spent pregame trying to find some friends of mine tailgating, to no avail. But with my two sons and their non-baseball caring cousin in tow – the cousin wearing a Braves shirt we gave him, one of my sons wearing one of my Braves jersey, and the other wearing (for some reason, but God bless him nonetheless) my Ilya Kovalchuk Thrashers jersey – we headed into the ballpark.

    What we saw, as my two kids said repeatedly that day, was a game possessing the energy of a playoff game. It was a playoff game for the visiting Tigers, as they needed to win to get into the AL postseason party, and of course they had ace Justin Verlander on the mound. The Braves countered with Julio Teheran, and following all the pregame pomp and circumstances, the one dependable arm amid the Braves rebuild shined brightest.

    Freddie Freeman scored Ender Inciarte on a first-inning sacrifice fly and Teheran took it from there, striking out 12 while allowing three hits and one walk in seven sparkling innings. Verlander was great, too, giving up six hits with one walk and eight strikeouts in seven innings as the 51,200 brought an energy and vibe that, had you closed your eyes, you’d thought it was the early part of the decade when the Braves were relevant.

    Jose Ramirez and Jim Johnson each gave up a hit in one inning of relief but kept Detroit off the scoreboard to finish a 1-0 victory, knocking the Tigers out of the postseason and officially sending the Braves nine miles northwest to the confluence of Interstates 285 and 75, where SunTrust Park was being constructed. Home plate was dug up and taken up the road via police escort during an extensive postgame ceremony that, in retrospect, felt like a celebration after clinching a playoff berth.

    There was so much emotion that afternoon for me personally. I covered a World Series game in that ballpark. I covered an All-Star game in that ballpark. The third date with my wife was in that ballpark. I took my two sons to their first Braves games in that ballpark. In May 1996, while still sports editor of the Georgia State student newspaper, I covered the first event in that ballpark, when it was a track-and-field stadium, some two months before the 1996 Summer Olympics would happen there. In October 1996, I attended media postgame events in that ballpark, trying to process the Braves slow-motion World Series train-wreck occurring across the street, while machines moved earth below the suites and continued the ballpark’s transformation from the center of the global sports universe to the new home of the Braves.

    Who could dare to dream as the sun set on the final major-league baseball game played downtown after a 50-year run, that a mere 24 months after saying goodbye to Turner Field, these rebuilding Braves would host postseason games in their new digs?

    —30—

    On Deck: Stunned Silence After a Pair of Gut-Wrenching Losses

    Bud L. Ellis is a lifelong Braves fan who worked as a sports writer for daily newspapers throughout Georgia earlier in his writing career, with duties including covering the Atlanta Braves, the World Series and MLB’s All-Star Game. Ellis currently lives in the Atlanta suburbs and contributes his thoughts on Braves baseball and MLB for a variety of outlets. Reach him on Twitter at @bud006.

    What Could’ve, Should’ve, Would’ve Been

    The Top 10 of the 2010s, Part 2

    By Bud L. Ellis

    BravesWire.com

    ATLANTA – It’s time for part two of my top 10 most memorable moments of Braves baseball I watched in person in the 2010s, looking at baseball’s epic final day of the 2011 regular season that found Atlanta land outside the postseason party after a painful late-season swoon, then taking a stroll through two games in which Braves starters nearly pitched no-hitters (and a nod to the lone no-hitter, at any level of baseball, I’ve witnessed in person across 40 years that also contains an interesting perspective on a tragic night in my hometown’s history).

    As a reminder, you can check out the introductory piece of the series below:

    Part 1: A Big Bang … Then A Choke

    The Long, Painful Death of a Season: Sept. 28, 2011

    Epic Late-Season Stumble Costs Braves Playoff Berth

    As late August 2011 arrived, it felt like only an act of God could keep the Braves from a second-straight NL playoff appearance. The Phillies were running away with the NL East but the Braves had found their footing, winning 16 times in 21 games to enter the final weekend of the month with the second-best record in the Senior Circuit and a 9 ½ game lead over the Giants for the NL’s lone wild-card spot.

    The Cardinals? Pfft, 10 ½ games behind the 79-53 Braves at 68-63.

    Atlanta flew to New York after taking three of four in Chicago, but Hurricane Irene was heading toward the nation’s largest city, too. The opening game of the Mets series was played in front of less than 23,000 at Citi Field and journeyman Chris Capuano destroyed the Braves, striking out 13 during a two-hit complete-game shutout. The final two games of the series would be cancelled and, with a Monday off day, the Braves suddenly had a three-day break as they were playing their best baseball of the season.

    They never recovered.

    The weirdness of that weekend in the Big Apple began the unraveling. It concluded at Turner Field on Sept. 28, the final day of the regular season. It would go down as one of the wildest, craziest days in baseball history (the Red Sox simultaneously were giving away the AL wild card), and the Braves entered that Wednesday night matchup with the division-champion Phillies having lost four in a row to fall to 10-19 since flying into New York.

    The Braves and Cardinals were tied at 89-72 as I walked into Turner Field alone for what I hoped would not be the final time that season. My sons were home with the next day being a school day, but downstairs in my filing cabinet were tickets to the first two home NL Division Series games. The sheer thought of those tickets being refunded was ridiculous just four weeks earlier, but as the losses piled up in September my sense of dread grew, and I don’t know if I’ve ever walked into a ballpark with so much doom-and-gloom as I headed to my seat in the lower level, midway between first base and the right-field corner.

    For six innings, everything was fine, and I started growing more confident. The Braves took a 3-1 lead on a Dan Uggla homer in the third and Tim Hudson cruised into the seventh inning. But with one out came two hits and an error by Jack Wilson at shortstop to score a run, and I started thinking again about how my heart was going to be shattered. After all, I sat in this stadium nearly a year before and watched the Braves fall apart in the ninth inning of Game 3 of the NL Division Series. I remember looking around and seeing people who must’ve been thinking the same thing, the wheels spinning in our heads with that, “here we go again” refrain.

    Was the seventh the start of the train careening off the tracks?

    Perhaps not. Craig Kimbrel made his first All-Star team, led the National League with 46 saves and won NL rookie of the year in 2011. Save No. 47 would at worst send the Braves into a one-game playoff with St. Louis. But Kimbrel proceeded to give up a single, get a strikeout, then walk two hitters before Chase Utley’s game-tying sacrifice fly. And as extra innings began to march on, I couldn’t help but think of all the opportunities the Braves had squandered over the past month to avoid being in this situation.

    I saw the Braves win the World Series in person in 1995. Three years earlier, I saw the Braves score three runs in the bottom of the ninth inning to win the 1992 NL pennant in person. I’m generally an optimistic person. But that night I found myself fighting that feeling of “not again” over and over. It only grew after Chipper Jones flew out to deep left-center with a runner on to end the 10th, and it grew even more when Jason Heyward reached third on a wild pitch before Martin Prado struck out to close the 12th.

    Of course, the Phillies scored in the top of the 13th on Hunter Pence’s single that barely cleared the infield dirt. Of course, the Braves would get a runner on with one out in the bottom half, only to see Freddie Freeman – the runner-up to Kimbrel for rookie of the year – ground into a 3-6-3 double play. We knew the Cardinals already had won some 30 minutes earlier, that 8-0 result glaring on the out-of-town scoreboard in the ballpark, and when Freeman slammed his batting helmet into the ground behind first base as the season died, the deflation nearly was overwhelming.

    Other than Game 5 of the 1996 World Series, I don’t think I’ve ever sat in a ballpark after a loss as long as I did that night. But the worst part didn’t come on Sept. 28. It came the morning after, when I had to wake up two little boys for school and tell them their favorite baseball team’s season was over.

    Oh, So Close, But No No-No: June 5, 2013 and July 29, 2018

    Julio, Newk Flirt with Every Pitcher’s Dream

    In all the baseball games these nearly 47-year-old eyes have watched through the years – from playing to coaching my kids to my sports writing days and countless games as a fan – I’ve witnessed exactly one no-hitter. It came the night after the bomb exploded in Centennial Olympic Park during the 1996 Olympics, in an American Legion playoff game on July 27, 1996, in Gainesville, Ga. Andy Hussion, who would help pitch Gainesville High to a state title the following spring, twirled the gem with his dad, former Furman play-by-play man Chuck Hussion, working the PA at Ivey-Watson Field along the shores of Lake Lanier.

    The bombing was the topic of conversation everywhere, including at the ballpark. I was interning as The Times in Gainesville that Olympic summer. We were owned by The Gannett Corp. (which owned USA Today) at the time, and there were veteran newspaper people with decades of experience onsite. When the bomb went off, the presses actually stopped (just like in the movies, but never in real life). Page 1A was redone and our morning edition had the news, while other newspapers that served our area did not. I lost track of how many people in our circulation area awoke on that fourth Saturday of July 1996 with no idea what had happened downtown until they grabbed our paper from their driveways.

    Why do I share this, something that occurred so long ago? I watched two Braves take no-hit bids beyond the seventh inning in the past 40 years. Both occurred this decade. Both hold significant meaning to me, so I cheated a bit to combine both as one entry.

    June 5, 2013: The Braves had won four in a row entering a Wednesday get-away date with the Pirates at Turner Field. Both my kids were with me, ages 10 and 9 and soaking in the initial days of summer vacation. We sat in the upper deck and watched Julio Teheran dazzle the Pittsburgh lineup. Teheran at the time still sat mid-90s with his fastball, and he had everything working. We got to the top of the eighth, everybody was standing, and I was telling my kids repeatedly not to say what all of us were thinking – fortunately, they both were old enough to understand what was happening.

    Two outs in the inning, four outs away. Brandon Inge came on as a pinch-hitter, worked a 1-1 count, then lined a single to left. Teheran retired Starling Marte to end the eighth, David Carpenter worked a perfect ninth to finish the one-hitter, and my sons and I were stunned as how close we had come to seeing a MLB no-hitter in person.

    Not too long after, something happened that made my life just about completely collapse. In some of those darkest days that followed over the next two to three years, in a season of my life where hope was almost nonexistent, that Wednesday afternoon in the sunshine at Turner Field with my boys was a bright memory and a sign of better days to come.

    It just didn’t result in a no-hitter. And that wasn’t the only close call, either.

    July 29, 2018: By the grace of God, I was in such a better place as that final Sunday of July unfolded. It was the day of Chipper Jones’ induction into the Hall of Fame. My oldest son and I gathered with friends in a hotel suite near SunTrust Park to break bread and catch up, then it was on to the ballpark for the series finale with the defending NL champion Dodgers. The Braves were working to avoid a sweep after being outscored 9-2 in the first two games, as many of our thoughts were some 965 miles northeast in interior New York.

    Sean Newcomb took the mound for his 40th major-league start. He got two runs of support in the first inning and two more in the third, and the Massachusetts lefty took it from there, walking Yasiel Puig in the sixth but allowing nothing else entering the ninth. The ballpark, already an emotional mess as many of us had strained to stream Chipper’s acceptance speech during the third inning, was teeming as Newcomb took the mound to start the ninth.

    I had no doubt Newk was going to do this. Zero. Everybody was standing. I couldn’t breathe. My oldest son was pacing like I’d never seen, and he would admit later he thought it was done, too. After two flyouts. Newcomb was one hitter away. Chris Taylor worked the count to 2-2, including a somewhat questionable pitch he took for a ball, then lined a single to left field as third baseman Johan Camargo dove to his left in vain. The Braves would win 4-1, Newcomb would throw 129 pitches on the day, and the two teams would meet 2 ½ months later in the NL Division Series.

    Oh man, talk about the ultimate “what if.” I chatted with my kid while writing this and he said to this day, he was 100 percent certain Newcomb had it. His stuff was that good. I know there’s been ups and downs with Newcomb at times, but that day in July 2018 shows his potential to dominate a great lineup.

    It also shows that no-hitters are so hard to complete, and seeing one is such a rare treat. And, every day you walk into the ballpark, there’s a chance it happens. Perhaps one sweet day, Andy Hussion will have some company on my list.

    —30—

    On Deck: Saying Goodbye to The Skipper, and The Ted

    Bud L. Ellis is a lifelong Braves fan who worked as a sports writer for daily newspapers throughout Georgia earlier in his writing career, with duties including covering the Atlanta Braves, the World Series and MLB’s All-Star Game. Ellis currently lives in the Atlanta suburbs and contributes his thoughts on Braves baseball and MLB for a variety of outlets. Reach him on Twitter at @bud006.

    Top 10 of the 2010s (Part 1): A Big Bang … Then a Choke

    The Top 10 of the 2010s, Part 1

    By Bud L. Ellis

    BravesWire.com

    ATLANTA – To say I’ve been blessed to follow baseball across the past 40 years is quite the understatement.

    I love this sport. I’ve watched thousands of games, from my early days playing (poorly) in Little League, to writing about high school, college, minor league and major league teams during my sports writing career, to coaching my sons for more than a decade, to being a fan of the Braves and attending games for four decades. From tagging along with my grandfather, to going with my high school and college buddies, to taking my sons to their first games. From snagging tickets here and there, to owning partial season-tickets packages in three different stadiums.

    Only God knows how many baseball games I’ve watched in nearly 47 years on this planet, some while wearing a media credential, some while holding a ticket, some while sitting on the couch watching on TV or a laptop or smart phone (or listening to via radio or streamed online).

    With the 2010s ending, I wanted to look back at my top 10 memorable Braves moments from the past 10 years. These are not ranked in any particular order, other than to be segmented into groups of two based on a common theme.

    I established three simple rules:

    • I had to see it live at the ballpark. That’s why you won’t see Brooks Conrad’s walk-off grand slam in 2010 or Chipper Jones’ homer off Jonathan Papelbon in 2012. I wasn’t at either game.
    • Final score didn’t matter. This is a list of the most memorable moments I witnessed, and it would be an injustice to only include Braves victories.
    • I wanted this series to be more than me simply regurgitating the results. Baseball Reference has all that. I wanted to tie in what these moments meant to me, what happened that day, and what it meant to myself and those around me.

    So, forgive the personal observations shared in this series. We all know what happened in the 2012 NL Wild-Card Game, and we all know what happened in Game 3 of the 2018 NL Division Series (spoiler alert: both games made the list). This is storytelling, looking through a personal lens at the games, the surroundings, the people, recalling – regardless of result – the top 10 most memorable moments these aging blue eyes witnessed in person watching this decade of Braves baseball.

    Happy Holidays! Thank you for reading, as always. I hope you enjoy.

    BLE.

    Welcome to the Show: April 5, 2010

    The Hometown Kid Says Hello with A Big Bang

    When we moved back to Atlanta in 2006, there were plenty of things I did with my kids (then ages 4 and 3) to introduce them to my hometown. Braves games. Thrashers games. Hawks games. Day trips to the mountains. And, on one spring day in 2007, we took advantage of living south of Atlanta to go check out one of the top high school baseball players in the nation.

    Fast forward to April 5, 2010, a bright spring day in Atlanta and the Braves season opener at Turner Field, the first game of the new decade. That strapping kid from Henry County High my kiddos and I watched for a few innings three years earlier stood poised to make his major-league debut. Perhaps to that point there hadn’t been a more-heralded arrival for a Braves player than one Jason Heyward, who raced through Atlanta’s minor-league system after being selected 14th overall in the 2007 player draft, then went 18-for-59 with five extra-base hits and 10 walks in 22 Grapefruit League games to earn a spot on the 2010 opening-day roster.

    You could feel the buzz pregame walking through the parking lots at Turner Field, a vibe that ratcheted even higher when Heyward caught the ceremonial first pitch from Hall of Famer Hank Aaron. Then the game began and Derek Lowe gave up three first-inning runs, putting the Braves in a hole before taking their first at-bats of the season. But even way up on the top row of the upper deck, high above the Braves bullpen in right field, you sensed something special was brewing.

    Maybe it was because the always combustible Carlos Zambrano took the mound for the Cubs that afternoon. Or maybe we had a feeling about what was coming, because I remember telling my boys that three runs would not beat the Braves on this day. And I was right, because after a walk to (pardon me while I puke as I type his name) Melky Cabrera, a single by Martin Prado, an RBI single by Chipper Jones and a two-run single by Yunel Escobar, the game was tied.

    Heyward walked to the plate, runners on first and second, one out, score even at 3-3. Zambrano missed on his first two offerings. With the sold-out crowd chanting his name, J-Hey unloaded on a 2-0 pitch and launched a Hollywood-esque missile, a screaming, soaring liner deep to right, one-hopping the back wall of the Braves bullpen. The stadium absolutely lost its mind. All the hype, all the hope, all the buildup for a kid who grew up in the Atlanta suburbs, realized with an instant lightning bolt in his first swing as a big-leaguer.

    In the upper deck, we went nuts, everybody screaming and hugging and jumping up and down in a way that’s rare for any game outside of late September or October. It wasn’t until we got home and I watched the replay of the homer did I realize just how far Heyward launched that Zambrano pitch. Sitting at the kitchen table that evening, both of my kids and I couldn’t stop watching the replay of the homer on my laptop.

    I thought probably a hundred times that night, “a star is born.” And in a way that’s what happened, as Heyward earned NL All-Star honors before an injury knocked him out of the game. He finished his MLB debut 2-for-5 with the homer and four RBIs as the Braves ran away with a 16-5 victory.

    You never know where this game, or this life, will take you. Some six years and six months after that blast against the Cubs, Heyward helped lead Chicago to its 108-year jinx-breaking World Series title. But that moment the 20-year-old launched his career and brought down the house in his hometown remains memorable to this day, and was quite the way to kick off the decade.

    Over Before It Even Began: Oct. 9, 2019

    Braves Complete NLDS Choke with Epic Implosion

    My recap of Game 3 of the 2019 NLDS for this platform published, I grabbed a beverage and sat down in the Braves Room. After watching the Braves split the opening two games of the series with St. Louis here in Atlanta, the Braves roared off the deck in the ninth inning for a stunning Game 3 victory, one that sent every person into my house into delirium. Even my mom, approaching her 69th birthday, stood in the living room with a fist clenched, screaming at the TV.

    And that’s how I felt the entire day leading into Game 4, and even after a disheartening extra-inning loss that sent this series to a decisive fifth game – a game that never should’ve been played had the Braves not stumbled all over themselves in Games 1 and 4 of the series – my confidence wasn’t shaken. I had such a calm peace about the whole situation. Even my wife and kids were surprised, given that I will walk through the house clapping my hands in excitement hours before the first pitch of a Friday night game in June against the Phillies or Mets.

    That confidence carried into the day of Game 5. I checked out my oldest son from school. We grabbed barbecue for lunch before hitting the road, chatting about how we felt with Mike Foltynewicz – who we both watched dazzle St. Louis five days prior in Game 2 – on the mound, and how there was no way this Braves offense would spit the bit yet again after wasting so many chances in the fourth game. In fact, the only potential negative was raised by my oldest, who grew up idolizing Brian McCann during his first stint with Atlanta while my kid was learning to catch in Little League.

    “Dad, if the Braves lose, I think B-Mac retires,” he said, then adding, “but we’re not losing.”

    It would be folly to pin what happened on the fact no foam red tomahawks emblazoned with “Relentless,” the 2019 postseason hashtag, greeted fans upon their arrival to the ballpark. But the vibe felt different. Maybe it was the 5 p.m. first pitch. Maybe it was the missed opportunities of Games 1 and 4, conjuring up the ghosts of this franchise’s, and this city’s, past sporting missteps.

    It felt OK when Cardinals leadoff hitter Dexter Fowler foul tipped strike three into McCann’s glove, as I jumped and pumped my fist. Then I noticed the ball on the ground. McCann couldn’t hold onto it, and what transpired over the ensuing 26 minutes is a scenario not even the most scarred Braves fan could think plausible.

    Twenty-six minutes. Ten runs. Season over. And 15,000 people are still trying to get through rush-hour traffic and to their seats.

    There was nothing to say. Nothing. What do you say when you watch an entire season of promise and hope and expectations for the franchise to achieve something it hadn’t done in 18 years, one it should’ve already accomplished two days earlier, evaporate in the autumn sun in about the time it takes to walk from Lot 29 to Murph’s?

    I’m glad my oldest son was with me. He loves baseball like his old man, for better or worse. When Max Fried walked high-school teammate and St. Louis starter Jack Flaherty (who needs to keep his lip zipped on Twitter, by the way) with the bases loaded, my son just started laughing. When a run scored on a strikeout after McCann could not corral a pitch, he laughed again. By the fourth inning, the seats in our section in the upper deck were mostly empty. My kid and I laughed about that, too.

    What else could we do? We were shell-shocked. I kept looking down into the Braves dugout, across the stadium at other fans, and the look was the same. It was like we had watched a train wreck play out in slow motion. It was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen in 40 years of watching baseball. An elimination game, at home, and the better team, the one that should’ve won the series, absolutely getting run off the field in stunning, this-cannot-be-happening fashion.

    In the seventh inning, I said enough. It was time to go home, to spend the 45 minutes in the car trying to think how to put this into words for my recap. But my son said we couldn’t leave. He didn’t want to go. He had school the next day. I had work. I didn’t understand why. This wasn’t funny anymore. He told me:

    “Dad, you know B-Mac’s still in the game. You know JT is getting the ninth. I have to watch them together, one last time.”

    Julio Teheran did make his way from the bullpen to the mound for the top of the ninth. There to hand him the ball was McCann. The two longtime Braves, both of whom made such a profound mark on this decade and on my two little guys’ baseball fandom, walked off the field in the last game of the decade, together as teammates one final time.

    And my son and I walked the steps to the third-base gate, for the final time this decade, fighting back tears.

    —30—

    On Deck: What Could’ve, Should’ve, Would’ve Been

    Bud L. Ellis is a lifelong Braves fan who worked as a sports writer for daily newspapers throughout Georgia earlier in his writing career, with duties including covering the Atlanta Braves, the World Series and MLB’s All-Star Game. Ellis currently lives in the Atlanta suburbs and contributes his thoughts on Braves baseball and MLB for a variety of outlets. Reach him on Twitter at @bud006.