The Atlanta Braves want to be considered a legitimate threat to challenge for the N.L. East title again. If that is to happen, several things must stop happening.
Jeff Francoeur has to learn to stay in the batters box long enough to see more than 9 pitches a night. He must holster his weapon (if it still qualifies as such) for the first pitch at least half the time, regardless of how enticing it looks, which apparently, is every time. His devil may care approach to hitting over the past 3 seasons has devolved from ferocity, to tenacity, to obstinacy, to sheer idiocy. Terry Pendleton may have to glue the barrel of the bat to his shoulder, but the Braves cannot afford to have their 6-8 hitters go 1-10 with a half dozen strikeouts night after night. If Chipper Jones gets hobbled (dear God, no) the chasm of ineptitude expands even further up the order. Francoeur must retool or sit down.
Yunel Escobar has to learn to stay focused during games. His offense is vital–there’s no denying that. His arm, too. But he is commiting bone-headed errors with alarming frequency. And these aren’t your garden variety throwing over the first baseman’s head type errors which plague even the best of them; he seems to briefly lose his common baseball senses altogether for one play every other game. Some nights, I half expect to see Yunel standing on first base one second, and then suddenly see him breeze across the pitcher’s mound the next, as he attempts to attempt to steal third directly from first because it’s closer if he just skips second entirely. Somebody needs to become his version of Mike Tyson’s Cus D’Amato, and keep his mental flights grounded during games. Bobby Cox is an avuncular type baseball guy–he is no disciplinarian. The only sentence he passes down is a shaking of his head and an occasional day off for “rest”. Get somebody a Spanish to English dictionary and get into Yunel’s noggin before he does something in a big game that sinks the Braves for good. (See Kelly Johnson versus Philadelphia circa 2008)
Finally, the Braves have to learn how to win 5 games in a row. For long stretches, the team seems to lose focus. Their offense suddenly vanishes for innings, sometimes games. They have an uncanny tendency–especially during the middle to late innings–to sit on their laurels, content to put up a string of zeroes on the scoreboard. If the current crew can’t find their way to consistency, there are a few things that could be tinkered with, like the bench. Casino’s love to pull dealers who are paying out too much money and replace them with “coolers.” Amazingly, a fresh pair of hands always seems to disrupt the rhythm of the game. The Braves could benefit from a guy who has an uncanny nack for disruption. Omar Infante is disabled, and Martin Prado has lost his cameo-like quality now that he’s playing more (does anyone still think he ought to be getting 500 ab’s a year?). For whatever reason, players thrive in certain roles. Chipper Jones seems like a different player batting anywhere but third in the order. As much as I like Greg Norton, I think he is beyond “cool” at this point. If Frank Wren continues to show the moxy that garnered Nate McClouth, I’d expect to see him change dealers sooner than later.
Overall, though, the current Braves roster has enough talent to go to the post season and need but a few toxic subtractions rather than major additions. At times, it seems as though the Braves are knocking on the door to compete for another division title, and then, sure enough, the usual suspects show up, and the team slips into an intractable coma yet again. The truth is, they have been flatlining for nearly four years. The recipe for success is agonizingly simple: stop doing the things that undermine winning. When Edward Norton’s mentor asks him, in American History X, if anything he has done has made his life better, he realizes he simply must stop doing those things. The rest will follow. If the Braves can stop doing those things, the wins will follow.
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