Earlier this month, Tom Glavine won his 14th postseason game before the Mets bowed to the Cardinals in the NLCS. If I was a hitter in the majors, it would drive me absolutely nuts to watch him pitch day after day. He doesn’t throw high cheese, he doesn’t have one of those roundhouse curve balls. What he has is smarts.
Janurary 1991, Atlanta, GA. My college roommate was working as an intern for the Atlanta Braves. He invited me and my fiancé to a dinner honoring Legendary Brave Dale Murphy. Dale is my 2nd favorite Brave ever (The Hammer, to answer your question). Before the dinner started, my buddy pointed out a guy and said, “That’s Tom Glavine, they say he’ll be a pretty good pitcher for the Braves one day.” I distinctly remember looking at him; he wasn’t much bigger than I was. Most of these other players seemed huge (Murphy for one, who posed for a picture with me). After surveying Glavine, I thought to myself, “Man, I could take him……….”
Fifteen years later, many a batter has watched Glavine on the mound and thought the same thing. And most of them were as wrong as I was.
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