October is no time to mimic the Cubs, not if you have a notion of advancing to the World Series, anyway.
But here are the Atlanta Braves, troubled again. They are supposed to possess the finest starting pitchers on the planet, and we shall know soon whether even they can overcome the way the rest of the team is playing.
A call to arms might not matter if the thumbs answer.
When the Braves yielded five unearned runs during the opener of this National League Championship Series, it seemed both a disservice to Greg Maddux and an aberration. But Friday night, there they were, bungling their way to another defeat.
The box score will show that Charles Johnson, a graduate of the Kane County Cougars, clobbered the big hit, a three-run sixth-inning double to bring the Florida Marlins a 5-2 victory and a 2-1 lead in this quirky best-of-seven tournament.
What had to be seen to be believed were a number of other gaffes committed by the Braves, who ran and fielded as if governed by their very own full moon over Miami. Two batters before Johnson, Darren Daulton crushed a line drive to right, where Atlanta’s best defensive outfielder, Andruw Jones, simply froze.
By the time Jones tracked the ball, it was too late to jump, though not a minute too soon to chase. This double tied the game 2-2, a situation that existed only until Johnson teed off on a slider that came up there looking not unlike a honeydew melon. John Smoltz, the Braves’ perennial playoff ace, cannot be completely absolved.
At this point, however, he had to stand in line for goat’s milk. In the Braves’ sixth, Chipper Jones got ambushed between second and third. Atlanta should have had bases loaded and none out against nemesis Tony Saunders, who only moments before had been allowed to hit (and strike out) with two runners aboard after Kenny Lofton’s error.
In the seventh, by way of confirming that the Braves are united in whatever they do, Tony Graffanino ambled into second without a slide and was tagged out. Atlanta is famous for killing foes with heavy doses of basics and fundamentals. Yet the depleted Marlins are halfway to a pennant now, thanks largely to the Braves’ largess.
“We have played better,” noticed manager Bobby Cox.
Let us pause now for a reality check. A year ago, the Braves were down 3-1 in this same tournament, and the St. Louis Cardinals still haven’t clinched. The Braves started to hit, and they hit so boldly that they really didn’t require exemplary pitching.
Also, Saturday night, the Braves do have, waiting and rested, the league’s only 20-game winner in 1997. Good, old whatshisname. Neagle. Denny Neagle. He hasn’t merited a start yet this postseason, but he’s not a bad guy to have in a pinch. He’ll face Al Leiter, not Kevin Brown.
Jim Leyland, the Marlins’ skipper, is that composed. He can push back his best pitcher a day. And to think Leyland played this game under protest after expressing zero tolerance for poor judgment from Eric Gregg, the second base umpire. The Braves, unfailingly cooperative, rendered a further review unnecessary.
The Marlins were not exactly airtight, either, so neither squad is playing up to its enormous payroll, at least yet. That’s the thing about high finance. The more these athletes make, the less a World Series share means.
This is not to suggest that sloth has set in, but whenever the Braves and Marlins want to run the bases like millionaires should, America is ready.