An Evening With The Braves
Years ago with the scouts, our boys’ baseball team, or school, I forgot which , we went to a Braves’ night game at the Atlanta Stadium. Over a several year period we went to about a game a year. This was one of the first times we went – I remember I was impressed with the Wave, the bouncing beach ball, and the “Charge” music when it would make all the difference in the world if the Braves scored.
At this game, I remember Dale Murphy was up to bat, the bases was loaded, and the score was something 9 to 11, favoring the other team.
Everybody was hollering to tell him to knock it out of the park. I thought I would join the festivity and holler too. I hollered, “Dale! HIT A HOME RUN!!!”
Just the second I started hollering my message it was on of those rare instances that everybody were between sentences or hollering words. My voice carried over most the stadium better than a PA system would have done. Everybody turned and looked at me. Dale Murphy looked up towards me – but I wasn’t positive he was looking at me.
Before I realized it, time was called. Dale, the batting manager, and I think it was Bobby Cox was standing away from the plate talking. The also were looking very serious. Dale pointed up at me. The other two looked up to where he was pointing. They both focused on me at the same moment, I could see it in their body language.
I felt kind of silly, all three of them looking at me and other people in the stadium also looking at me. I sort of gave all three of them a half-hearted wave. They, in-turn, gave a recognition of my wave by a nod.
Then they got back in their conversation. Finally, Bobby Cox nodded and he and the batting manager marched off the field.
Dale knocked a home run and the three men on base ran in, which scored 4 points in a row. The managers and Dale Murphy gave me a big hearty “We did it!” wave.
The next half inning something similar happened. Again, I was caught up in the fever of hollering instructions, she same as all the people around me were doing, and I hollered, “Strike him out!”
Again, my voice traveled, because it was bellowed out between shouts of other people. Like sometimes in school when my voice carried when everything fell silent and I ended up in trouble.
Again the there was a time out with Bobby Cox (I think), the pitcher, and the pitching manager. Again, they followed my suggestion and struck out the batter.
The Braves won.
As we were gathering up our belongings getting ready to leave two men in suits approached me. They were all smiles. They were had some papers… they asked me how would I like to come to work for the Braves as a Strategy Advisor for 500k annually.
I thought about it for a second and told them no. I told them I worked for the Postal Service and if I didn’t show for work tonight some people, including them, just might not get their mail tomorrow. And of course, getting the mail through is much more important.
I walked away with my head high.