Well, they led him to the altar, but they couldn’t convince him to say, “I quit.”
Speaking here of the “Tom Glavine affair,” which is not going away, and which the Braves will have plastered across their dossier for time to come. Coming on the heels of the indifferent dealing with John Smoltz — who tired of waiting for a commitment — we now have become witness to the end of an era: The Smoltz-Glavine-Maddux era, when the Braves had the three greatest pitchers they have ever had on their roster at the same time.
But, Glavine is the central figure here. Say his time had come, if you choose, but no one had ever given the slightest hint that he was being whip-sawed with such a dead-end decision: Take retirement or release. Then the heartless words spread across the television screen: “Braves Release Tom Glavine.”
If they were going to release him, then why this agonizing process of rehabilitation tests at Gwinnett and Rome? It was some kind of anxiety scene
These are disheartening days for the Braves. For Jeff Francoeur in particular. For those who came to Turner Field to cheer him, but now who jeer him. When Mark Bowman, of MLB.com, wrote that this might be a pertinent time to consider locating another employer for him, oh, did that set off a firestorm! A flurry of conjecture.
Trade Jeff Francoeur? Homegrown hero? Onetime Sports Illustrated cover boy? Where did it all go?
Let me take you back to those Camelot days, when the Braves’ roster was plump with bright young prospects. There was a pod of them, all seeming to ripen at the same time. A sort of an informal Boy Scout troop of them, who went to each other’s weddings, and celebrated their togetherness like club members.
Remember their names, for some are long gone. Francoeur, Brian McCann, Macay McBride, Kelly Johnson, Ryan Langerhans, and two Canadians, Pete Orr and Scott Thorman.
McBride, traded to the Tigers, is recovering from arm surgery at Toledo. Orr and Langerhans
Continue reading Braves should show more patience with Francoeur »
In case you haven’t noticed, an increasing number of our big-time golf championships have been slipping away across the seas.
Of course, that was the trend in the early years of professional golf in the USA. Scots and Brits came over in droves in the 20th century, when we were neophytes, and it wasn’t until 1911 that one of our native-born lads was able to capture the national championship, John McDermott. When a mere caddie, Francis Ouimet, whipped both of England’s best, the great Harry Vardon — whose grip you might use — and Ted Ray, in 1914, that set a golfing rage across our states.
Lately, though, those pertinent intruders have been stealing off with some of our most precious titles, brought brusquely to mind when Henrik Stenson, a Swede, won The Players Championship, right behind Sergio Garcia, who took the prize home to Spain a year ago.
If you’ll begin checking down the list from 1994, seven of the 15 U.S. Open championships have crossed the seas. It began
Continue reading International golfers reap harvest of U.S. championships »
PONTE VEDRA BEACH, Fla. — The afternoon was dwindling away, and so was the USA’s hand in The Players Championship. The leaderboard was a mixture of nationalities — German, South Korean, Swedish, (Louisianan), English, another Swede, South African, (St. Simons Islander), and Australian, but the shuffling was still to come. Alex Cejka, the overnight leader from Germany, was still holding steady at the top and would remain so as the shadows lengthened, but he was growing increasingly unsteady the closer he came to the holes where so often this championship is decided.
Through it all, though, one name kept edging up the board after Tiger Woods had long ago finished — and was at his leisure. And Woods had done it with a modest round of 70, just two under par. Cejka is a 37-year-old import who has won 11 times around the world, but never in this country. He escaped from Czechoslovakia when it was Communist, and he was nine years old, in the company of his father, of course.
PONTE VEDRA BEACH, Fla. — This is a golf tournament, The Players Championship, that has more angles than a Hercule Poirot movie. One year it’s the wind. Another year it’s the rain and the wind, and another year it’s the hard greens, or the rough. But since the powers of the PGA Tour have been able to switch the dates from soggy March to glistening May, happiness has taken hold. No more over-seeded greens, no more mud balls, which Tiger Woods deplored. “We caught mud balls all the time [in March],” he said, drawing from his memory bank.
But, just like the fleas on a dog and gnats in the summer South, two nagging haggles aren’t going away. The Players will never become a fifth major, no matter how gracefully it ages. One of the leading world-class players, Geoff Ogilvy, from Australia — and probably the best player not American — referred to it in a news conference the other day as “the best tournament in the world, not a major,” and never blushed. Nor did
Continue reading Players Championship has haggles that won’t go away »
PONTE VEDRA BEACH, FLA. — Stop me if you’ve heard this before: that Craig Perks has won as many Players Championships as Tiger Woods. So has Jodie Mudd, before he switched from tee times to horses. So has Mark Hayes, and Mark McCumber, and Fred Funk, not a world challenger there.
Perks, a genial New Zealander, never won any other tournament and never came close afterward. He followed Woods in the winner’s circle in 2002, and there you’ll find his name, sandwiched between Tiger’s and Davis Love III’s. And this is the PGA Tour players’ own course, their home campus, so to speak.
Strange, when Woods shows up on the Sawgrass course, his game seems to have gone in another direction. The past six times he has played here, he has finished out of the top ten, quite uncharacteristic of the man generally considered to be the best player in the world. He sat it out last year for knee surgery. This year he’s back, but his game is in recovery.
It’s simply strange that
Continue reading Woods back at Sawgrass, site of much frustration »
Pitcher Kenshin Kawakami is the Braves' latest addition — not from the "farm" system. (Curtis Compton / ccompton@ajc.com)
Once upon a time, as fairy tales usually begin, the Braves were a baseball team that was home-bred, carefully incubated in the farm system, and nurtured all the way up to the major league level. There they won championships and pennants and played in the World Series, one of which they won. And they left their names scrolled on the walls of the ball park where they played, and in team and league record books. Then something began to change after the season of 2005, and the once-flourishing franchise has been groping ever since.
Now, the Braves’ “farm” system reaches from Venezuela to Japan. Deals are made, faces change, and only this season have they reached deep into their jeans to play a hand in the free agent rat-race. A payroll that once was held around the $80-million level, by order of the McScrooge ownership, has now zoomed to about $97
When the Falcons were accepted by the NFL in 1966, they were awarded two first-round draft choices. As it developed, the two they chose were from the same state, the same hometown, and at one time, the same housing complex.
Over the long haul, as this story will bear out, the course they took in their life after football could not have presented a more diverse path. It was the accidental philosopher Yogi Berra who said, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”
In the cases of Tommy Nobis and Randy Johnson, each chose his own course. One led to an honorable life after football, the other to utter degradation. This is the story of all that, the gladness and the sadness.
Tommy and Randy both grew up in San Antonio. They went to different high schools, in Tommy’s case, “because of the coach.”
Tommy became a celebrated All-American at Texas and is a member of the College Football Hall of Fame. He is engraved on the memory of thousands for a goal-line tackle he made
Continue reading Linked on draft day, Falcons’ first picks took different paths »
Amazin’, to quote Dr. Casey Stengel, the Florida Marlins come to Turner Field and take command. Three games in a row. A wipe-out. And it showed on the complexion of Frank Wren, who stepped on the elevator, looking neither right nor left. but glumly straight ahead. This was only the ninth game of the Braves’ season, but then again, these were the Marlins, who have been playing in a football stadium since they were born. A football stadium is a lousy place to play baseball at best — or should I say worst? — even though both teams are named for fish.
This is no occasion to engage in snobbery. The Marlins came into the major leagues 16 years ago. In that time they have played in two World Series’ and won them both, one with a manager who was retrieved from a farm in North Carolina. The Braves came to Atlanta in 1966 and have played in five World Series since. They won one, otherwise their fans have survived on a diet of division championship flags displayed above left
Continue reading It’s too early for despair, gloom and doom, over Braves »
Augusta — Even Sam Goldwyn would never have made a movie like this.
Nonsense, pure unadulterated nonsense. It was the championship round of that old Southern sports treasure, the Masters, and indeed, so eventually it developed, but inside that storm a tempest developed that completely distracted the invigorated thousands who lined the hills and hummocks of Augusta National. It was Easter Sunday, and the sun shone brightly, and the winds merely wafted through the pines as the 50 players teed off in pursuit of the precious green jacket. Intervening, however, was the match within the contest between Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson, paired for the 24th time in their careers, but rarely on such an emotional stage as this.
But first, the championship. After all the drives and all the putts, and birdies and bogeys of the day, nothing was decided until Kenny Perry, Chad Campbell and the Argentine, Angel Cabrera, played off a three-way tie. Campbell had already finished at 276