Atlanta Braves Flashback: My Darkest Day as a Braves Fan
In 1990, my fandom and loyalty toward the Atlanta Braves was tested. But I learned an important lesson that year, I just hadn’t realized it yet.
August 3rd, 1990. I had just turned 11 years old that July, and I was living in Schofield Barracks, Hawaii (I’m an Army Brat). Superstation TBS was still alive and kicking, so that, obviously, was my only connection to the Atlanta Braves after leaving Alabama.
Like many who were around for the Braves of the 1980’s, Dale Murphy was my hero. I don’t use that term lightly. He was my hero in every sense of the word. I idolized him. Every number I wore on the back of my jersey when I played, was the number 3. I got rather upset if I didn’t get #3. I don’t know how many people I had to correct when they associated my wearing of the number 3 to Babe Ruth.
I am ambidextrous, but my dominant hand was the left, so, I threw left-handed, but hit right-handed. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I began experimenting/teaching myself to switch-hit. Murphy always had that little waggle of the bat before readying himself to hit.
You know what I’m talking about, right? He’d let the bat hang from the waist, elbows bent just a little, both hands wrapped around the handle, and he’d give the bat a waggle back and forth, 3 times. I did this. He stood in the box with a confident, equally balanced stance. I did this. For me, as a kid, it was one of the most beautiful, fluid swings I had seen, and a follow through more picturesque than I could imagine.
To this day, my lucky number is, and always will be, number 3. My parents still swear to this day that my first words weren’t “mama” or “dada”. No. My first words were Dale Murphy and Bob Horner.
While I was still living in Alabama, I even used to question why even in Chicago, at Cubs games (thank you WGN), they would sing the “Braves song”. Also known as the National Anthem … You know, ” … and the home, of the Braves”. My family had a good laugh with that one. Anyway, I digress.
Flash forward to August 3rd, 1990. Being in Hawaii, and an 11-year-old kid, you can imagine my feelings when I heard the news that my hero, Dale Murphy, had been traded by the team I adored more than any other. A part of me died that day.
What Else to Expect?
I wept. I mean, I really, REALLY wept; for 3 days. Why 3 days you ask? Murph wore #3. I think I went through every stage of grief in those 3 days. Denial, anger, guilt … all of them. Posters came off the walls. Pennants were ripped down from their pegs. I was angry at the Braves. I had renounced “America’s Team”. I hurt for Murph. The man who had given all he had to the Braves for so long, sent him packing to the Philadelphia Phillies. As a fan of the Braves, and an even bigger fan of Murph, I was crushed.
What hurt even more, was that the following season, in 1991, the Braves would reach the World Series for the first time since 1958, before moving to Atlanta in 1966. I felt so bad for Murph that he didn’t get that experience.
Then, in 1993, he signed with the expansion Colorado Rockies. As fate would have it, Philly would reach the World Series that year. Murphy just couldn’t catch a break. He retired May 21st, 1993, less than 45 games into the 1993 season, 2 home runs shy of 400.
As a kid, you never want to see your childhood hero change teams, especially after such a long and successful tenure with your favorite team. I felt like, on the day he retired, I retired with him. Who was I going to cheer for now? Who was I going to look up to? Fortunately, it wouldn’t take me too long (after the appropriate time for grieving was concluded, of course) to find a new favorite player in Tom Glavine. But this is about Dale Murphy, not Glavine.
Time Capsules
Fast forward to 2011. I myself am now in the Army, living at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. A little wiser, with a better understanding of the business side of the game, and still, always a Murphy fan, even though he hadn’t played in decades. Still a Braves fan, even though they sent my beloved Dale Murphy to the Phillies.
Technology has obviously, since the early 1990’s, taken off. Blogging was at its height. Twitter was taking off and Facebook was where it was at. So, it was no shock when I stumbled on the website, dalemurphy.com. It was here, that I learned, as Murphy says, “the rest of the story”.
I had long ago accepted the Murphy trade. I was at peace with it, even though he never got into the Hall of Fame (which is still a massive injustice if you ask me). But it was here, on Murph’s blog, that I learned the truth of my darkest day.
Murphy goes into great detail how that trade happened. I honestly never thought I could respect this man anymore. He was always a testament and living example of how a human being should act and carry himself.
Joe Torre once said of Murphy that “If you’re a coach, you want him as a player, If you’re a father, you want him as a son. If you’re a woman, you want him as a husband. If you’re a kid, you want him as a father. What else can you say about the guy”? Well, to answer Joe’s question, you can’t, or at least I thought.
Then, I read this:
“The basic point I want to make here is that I actually initiated the trade—not the Braves.” – Dale Murphy
My jaw hit the floor.
The Stand-up Guy
But here is what made me respect the man I had adored for so many years wearing the baby blue of the ’80’s. Below is an excerpt from Murphy’s blog:
“There had been trade rumors off and on through the mid-80’s (and even up through ’88 or so—the Mets were one team that always seemed to be mentioned) but I never paid much attention to them because, quite honestly, I could never see myself leaving the Braves. But by the end of the decade, that had changed. I started feeling kind of excited at the prospects of going to a new team. I wondered whether a change of scenery would rejuvenate me, and my career. At the same time, I was aware of what can happen when a long-time player has some success with one team and sticks around longer than he should: production eventually falls off and the team is left with the uncomfortable task of figuring out whether to renew his contract (even though his best years may well be behind him) or release him (usually against popular opinion.) The Braves had done so much for me through the years that I just didn’t want to put them in that position.” – Dale Murphy
#RESPECT!
Dale Murphy will ALWAYS be my favorite player. The Atlanta Braves will ALWAYS be my favorite team, and, Dale Murphy will always be an Atlanta Brave. I have a wall at home dedicated to this man, a shrine of sorts, if you will. A framed, autographed jersey, game-used broken bat (from a spring training game one year, complete with nails), baseball card, baseball, and a phantom patch commemorating the Braves as 1991 World Series Champions.
” … there’s no two ways about it: Atlanta will always feel like home and I’ll always be a Brave.” – Dale Murphy
Dale Murphy, from the time I could walk and talk, WAS the Atlanta Braves. Dale Murphy will always be my favorite player of all time, period!
In 1990, I learned a valuable lesson as a fan.Players get traded and players retire, but the franchise still remains, players and fans (although reluctantly, move on). In this day where free agency reigns supreme and trades happen at crazy rates, the team is still there.
It’s never easy to watch your favorite player get traded or retire, but life goes on. We, as fans, move on and continue to celebrate post-season appearances, or suffer through droughts, or get frustrated with rebuilds, but we always come back for more (why do we do this to ourselves)? But the fact remains, no matter who your favorite player is, or was, your team, will still be there. Sometimes your favorite player does get traded, then, when you least expect it, and need it most, you learn the real truth.
Thank you, Mr. Murphy, for your candor, your honesty, and your appreciation for the fans. You didn’t have to tell this story, but I’m so grateful that you did.
** To read Murphy’s blog, and more, visit www.DaleMurphy.com