Goodbye, Skip Caray

I have more wonderful memories of watching the 1980s Atlanta Braves than most people. Maybe it took being an 8-year old to enjoy the Chuck Tanner Experience...I don't know. I fondly remember Picture Day when my brother and I got our pictures taken with Dale Murphy, Glen Hubbard and Chief Knockahoma (I also remember insulting reliever Jim Acker when I told my dad I didn't want a picture with him because "he's horrible."). I learned about heckling during the last innings of another Braves blowout loss from a group of rowdy rednecks.

One of my favorite memories involves Skip Caray. For some reason, I really hated Harry Caray when I was a kid. I thought the Cubs were Atlanta's rival because they were both on television all the time. I hated Ryne Sandberg. I hated Jody Davis. And I hated Harry Caray.

I also had no idea that Harry was Skip's dad. I knew they had the same last name, but I thought it just added to my imaginary Cubs/Braves feud. So when I found out that we were going to Atlanta to see the Braves play the Cubs, I was really fired up. To me, this was Ali/Frazier or Tom/Jerry. This was Cubs/Braves.

In my excitement about the game, I came up with an idea that I pitched to Mom and Dad. Now, keep in mind, I'm a 2nd or 3rd grader at this point. My idea was a sign to hold up between innings that read:

"Hey, Harry, our Caray can "Skip" all over your cow."

Brilliant, no? I remember my parents' reaction like it was yesterday. There was laughter alongside a knowing look of, "We've got something special right here." It was the beginning of a promising writing career that climaxed in the 8th grade with my classic homeless people essay (won me $50 and got a rousing ovation from the patrons at the Community Kitchen) and has sputtered out with occasional postings on an insignificant sports blog.

Back to my story...

I held up that sign every half inning for the entire game, but never made the Jumbotron or TBS. It was not for a lack of trying. The people in front of us turned to read the sign and laughed approvingly, but I guess the Powers That Be on the SuperStation couldn't handle calling out that WGN drunkard.

I think of that sign often when I see Skip Caray. It is a fun childhood memory centered around a major part of my adolescence: my love of the Atlanta Braves. Skip Caray was part of the team along with Pete Van Wieren and Ernie Johnson. They taught me much of what I know about baseball, though mostly in the context of "Don't do what the Braves just did."

Plenty of people think of Skip Caray as a "homer" who openly pulled for the Braves during the TBS broadcasts. Those people never listened to him when the Braves were bad. He was a different kind of homer then, the type who whose voice deflated when the bullpen coughed up another lead or grounded into another double-play. He wasn't so much a cheerleader as a punching bag who took gut shots every night the Braves played their pathetic brand of baseball.

That is why the Skip Caray of the 1990s was so excited and so over-the-top. His most famous call - the Sid Bream slide to beat the Pirates - was the release of years of pent up frustration towards the Braves.

There is something sadly fitting about Caray passing during the same season that the Braves no longer play on TBS. It wasn't right seeing Caray on something called Peachtree TV and you could feel his boredom in the radio both simmering through the speakers (or that might have been his annoyance with Mark Lemke's nasal voice. It would have been mine.). For me, Caray and TBS went side-by-side, just like Skip Caray is indelibly linked to my childhood.

Thanks for the memories, Skip.