My fandom started in the most usual of ways. My dad, stationed at Fort Gordon in Augusta Georgia, took me to my first Braves game at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium when I was just 6 years old. I’d played t-ball and coach pitch little league and began watching the Braves play on TBS.
It didn’t matter to me that the Braves weren’t very competitive. I sat in the upper deck behind right field with my glove on the entire game, absolutely certain that Dale Murphy could get one to me. I wondered why the fans were booing Bruce Benedict. I chattered "Hey batter batter" during opposing at-bats.
I think the Dodgers beat our hometown heroes 11 to 2 that day, but it didn’t matter. A dad, his son and a baseball game was everything that was needed. To a 6-year-old, it was pure magic and my life long love of baseball, but more importantly the Braves was born. From then on, when ever I hear the National Anthem, after ". . . home of the brave" a little voice inside my head adds "The Atlanta Braves. Play Ball".
About a year later, the Army decided it was a good idea to send my dad overseas for two years. My mom, my sister and I stayed in Augusta. Neither of them was a baseball fan, but my dad got me a small black and white TV before he left, so I could watch the Braves.
He only got to call us once a month or so and most 7 year olds aren’t very talkative, but he made me fill him in on how the Braves were doing every time he called. I made sure to watch as many games as possible. I started taking notes and eventually learned how to keep a scorebook. I would pull out my notes and score sheets to rehash the games every time he called.
Dad was overseas when the Braves claimed the 1982 NL West pennant (yes WEST. I had to furtively watch some of those late games with no sound after bed time). I made sure to keep him as up to date as possible and as the Braves fought down the stretch, I took to writing letters and including box scores from the paper, so he could experience the chase with me.
Every game I watched was a way to connect with Dad while he was out serving his country and protecting our freedoms. I didn’t understand the sacrifices he was making then; I just knew my dad was away. But baseball and the Braves kept us bonded.
He returned after his two-year tour and we stayed in Augusta for a few more years, attending a few games in person, but always watching the SuperStation.
We moved around for another 10 years, including 4 years overseas. We didn’t get to watch the Braves daily anymore, but still followed them religiously. Daily newspapers and subscriptions to Sporting News and Sports Illustrated helped us get our fix.
He retired from the Army, I went to college and moved out of state for work. We made it a point to go to a game at Turner field the year after it opened.
I got married (my dad was my best man) and had kids. We live seven hours apart now, but still talk at least two or three times a month and the Braves come up every time. He still watches daily (he lives within the Fox Sports South area), and I watch when I can, but listen to the games via MLB Audio.
I took my kids to their first game at Turner field a few years ago. We’ve made the trip a couple of times just like my dad did for me.
When the Braves announced that they were selling stock in the team, I bought my dad one share of each. He had to choke back tears when I gave him the paperwork. He now owned a piece of the team that represents the foundation of our relationship and kept us close when we were thousands of miles apart.
My mom called the other day to say he was beaming with pride and had this huge grin on his face after he received a letter in the mail about a Braves share holder meeting and then I had to choke back the tears. Thanks Dad and go Braves.
