An example of the crafty, left-handed beatdown I would give to Smoltz's Beard if he ever faced me in Street Fighter. (If any of you guys are astutely aware of how I operate you know to sit beyond the first 30 seconds. Don't blame me for the odd skipping sound effects, the native clip works fine for me; blame YouTube.)
Either you guys must not really like Tom Glavine, or the rain chased a lot of you away, or you're simply just a bunch of lazy folks. Because when Smoltzie struck out his 3,000th batter, and when Greg Maddux's #31 retirement happened, there were like 4-5 FanPosts and FanShots of other TCers posting their photos and clips of the monumentous occasions. But not with Tom Glavine. What gives, everyone??
But anyhow, considering the Braves suffered probably their most frustrating loss (for me, since the single-palooza vs. the White Sox) in a while, and some are throwing in the towel again, and scouting the bandwagon for salvagable parts, I suppose now is as good of time as any to have a little recap of the particular day's events, regardless of how poorly it finished, because regardless of the game itself, the ceremony was still the most important part of the day.
But naturally that (female dog) Mother Nature had some objection to the evening actually occurring, and literally within five minutes of the gates opening to the public, a monsoon erupted right over Turner Field, and people retreated into anywhere where they could get shelter over their heads. Little did they realize that it wasn't 100% effective, considering the rainfall was also coming in from from all directions, including sideways.
As you can see here, what used to be Skip & Pete's is balls-to-the-wall packed full of people who were afraid of some precipitation.
So with pretty much nothing to do while waiting out the storm, the Beard Brothers and I headed up to the 755 Club, where we secured ourselves a comfy table up right behind the 1993 banner. I mean seriously, when inclimate weather starts at a ballpark, what really can people do? If their seats are out in the open, they're kind of SOL, and it's not like ballparks give a vast amount of public seating in the concourses and sheltered areas. You can screw around in the pitching and batting cages for only so long, so I think we had the right idea - get to the restaurant, sit down, and start getting hammered. As you can see in this photograph, there were small oceans forming right behind first base and shortstop positions. Turner Field boasts some state-of-the-art aqueduct water draining system, or whatever they have, which is mentioned about 20 times during any sort of rainy weather.
From where we were sitting, we could easily see the tarp that was veiled over Glavine's #47; at this point, with the rain seemingly never ending, were actually discussing whether or not they'd have the celebration or not. The celebration would've been nice, but for the sake of the players and the fans, would they risk delaying the game further for a ceremony?
The questions were kind of answered partially, when I noticed that they were still going through with their typical pre-game parade, which is worth mentioning, has to be the smallest pre-game parade I'd ever seen in all the games I'd attended at the Ted. Usually, it's like an entire county of little leaguers that is about 500 kids deep, and takes about 20 minutes to walk around the entire warning track, but I can't remember what exactly this was for, but pictured, is pretty much the entire group. The fact that the Ted trotted them out in the middle of the rain kind of meant that they were eager to get all the pre-game fluff out of the way as quick as possible, so that the field could be prepped and ceremony had, and game started as soon as humanly possible.
After about 90 minutes, the tarp was lifted off the infield, much to the delight of those who braved the storms, and awaited some ceremony and game time.
At this rate, we realized how quickly the field staff was working, and that it was probably a good idea to wrap things up at the 755 Club, and head to our 201 level seats. As you can see here, we were at the 755 Club for a little while, and after the second bucket of Miller Lites, we decided that it was better to camp our seats and order more ballpark-priced beer than forfeit the primo seating, which is what essentially pushed us to this amusing tab. As for the nachos, I'm sure Beard will chime in and say something about how it was the worst $16 nachos he'd ever eaten in his entire life.
By the time we got to our seats, the ceremony was under way. Slightly inebriated, I couldn't help but wonder if the fact that Giants players were playing catch and loosening up, while the Braves did their obligation to honor Tom Glavine was going to play any difference in the game throughout the night.
A slightly closer look at the stage during the presentation - the #47 which will be placed in Monument Grove, as well as a framed jersey and oil painting of Glavine, along with Schuerholz, Bobby, his wife Chris, and all 5-6 of the Glavine children were also on stage.
As is the norm with the great ones, Tommy looked quite uncomfortable being in the spotlight, but held together slightly better than the fidgety and restless Greg Maddux, during his ceremony.
And the number is finally unveiled, with Tom Glavine's #47 being enshrined with the other greats, Greg Maddux, Dale Murphy, Phil Niekro, Hank Aaron, Eddie Matthews, and Warren Spahn.
Tommy and his three sons all throwing out the ceremonial first pitches. What I found amusing was that in 90% of the games, Brooks Conrad is the guy who catches the first pitch, and on an evening that required four catchers, Brooks was nowhere to be seen. Where's the respect??
As for the game itself, I didn't bother taking a whole lot of pictures. A part of me was just trying to sober up, and the other part of me was making a lot of remarks with the Beard Brothers of things we'd likely never say on the internet, but perfectly adequate to make while slightly inebriated and at the park itself. But here's a picture of Matt Diaz: Cleanup Hitter, and I was hoping more than anything that he would have the same kind of game in the 4-spot like he did against Johan Santana, but ended uphaving an abysmal night overall. I guess the experiment's over. Speaking of which, I made a joke about how "watch Barry Zito be inspired by the soft-tossing Tom Glavine," and then sure as (crap) by the end of the night I glanced at the stats on my phone, and he had 10 strikeouts. Barry Zito. With ten strikeouts.
Since we all know what happened on this evening, I won't go into the heartbreaking details, but I did get a great kick out of Freddy Sanchez's night of futility, as he predictably and repeatedly kept hitting into F9s on the evening. In the top of the eighth, I was livid with attempting to call yet another F9, but he instead ground into a disappointing 4-3.
But the game was irrelevant. It was Tom Glavine Day in Braves Country.