1996 World Series Redux

Last night I was at the gym watching the Mets game when I noticed someone on the elliptical two rows in front of me watching an old Yankees game. It was a Monday, the Yankees weren’t playing, nothing special, whatever, they show “Yankees Classics” all the time. But then I noticed what appeared to be a 24 year old Chipper Jones walking up to the plate, bat in hand, ready to take his turn and I immediately switched over. Being that the game was on the YES Network, I had an inkling of how things were going to turn out, but I still watched for a half an inning to relive those old days when Fred McGriff was manning first base, Javy Lopez was behind the plate and Andruw Jones was literally just a teenager.

It took me straight back to where I was 13 years ago when the Braves were battling the Yankees in the 1996 World Series.

Living in New Jersey at the time, I was a bit of an odd ball. By that point the state had decidedly shifted away from the Mets golden era of the mid to late 1980s and moved onto the Yankees train. Here I was, an eighth grader, cheering loudly for the Braves amongst Yankees Nation. The first games obviously started out well, a point I told just about anyone within earshot. But the next three were just a disaster for the reigning World Series champs setting up a game 6 show down. Yankees win series over. Braves win and we’re onto game 7.

It was a Saturday night and I was at the Ramada across the street from the entrance to the Garden State Plaza celebrating my friend Ally’s bat mitzvah. I spent a majority of the night running between the party and a hotel room her parents had gotten for the night. I would run in just to check the score and wind up staying until the half of the inning was over go back down stairs to show my face and then sneak back off to the room. The cycle continued until her parents finally arranged to have a TV brought in so all the kids could watch the final inning. My friend Niki told me years later that she always remembered me as the girl who kept saying, “Chipper can do it.” But he and the rest of the Braves could not pull off a win and the Yankees captured their first World Series title since 1978. Champagne corks popped open like it was the clubhouse in Yankee Stadium and we personally contributed to winning a title. The group of about forty-five 13 year olds was showered in the bubbly stuff. (Even at 13 I knew that was an inappropriate way to celebrate the victory with Middle Schoolers.) Luckily it was about the same time parents arrived to pick up their children. I remember watching everyone celebrating, thinking, “Man, I wish that was me. I wish I was celebrating the Braves win in front of them,” as my mom escorted me to the car. To say I was crushed would have been an understatement.

The following Monday, I begged my mom to let me stay home, but she wouldn’t and I had to face all of my friends and peers who were ready to jump on me. The memories still haunt me to this day.

But with the Braves talking on the Yankees this week, I am hoping that Atlanta can wash a few them away, especially with Chien-Ming Wang going up against Tommy Hanson on Tuesday. (Please Chien-Ming Wang, continue to be horrible, now is not the time to turn your season around.) It’s not the World Series, but for now, I’d take a regular series victory. Plus there’s nothing I would love more, than to rub a little Braves winning into my friends faces at the next Yankee game. So let’s go Braves!