Almost 19 years ago to the minute, the Braves won the only championship in Atlanta sports history (and don’t give me the ’69 Chiefs). I was at Manuel’s Tavern, where the response was fairly tepid. In fact, I was scolded for getting up on my chair.
Three years earlier, after Otis’ catch to preserve a 1-0 win over the Pirates, CD and I stopped off at Manuel’s on the way home. The local 11 p.m. news came on just as we walked in and “The Catch” was the lead story. On cue, the packed bar boisterously chanted “Otis, Otis!” I feel sorry for Braves fans who didn’t live in Atlanta from ’91-’93. It was a wonderful time.
The strike pretty much ended the city’s crush on the Braves (fuck you very much Bud Selig. As happy as I was to see Grissom squeeze the final out, I must admit being way more excited by Sid’s slide. Or even Otis’ catch. I guess that’s the luck of a Braves fan — you finally win a World Series but at a time when most people resented baseball.
Still, I’ll take it.