When I was a kid in the 80's, I had a weeknight routine: Get home from school, finish homework haphazardly, go play outside, come in and open packs and packs of baseball cards while watching Andy Griffith and Sanford and Son. Then, I'd cozy up with Pete Van Wieren, Skip Caray, and Ernie Johnson to watch my beloved Braves, of which there'd be almost no doubt that the final result would be an L in the record books. "The bases are loaded, and I wish I was..." ~Skip Caray It's interesting, a kid's hope. When I was young and the Braves were horrible, I thought they could come back from any deficit, of which they hardly ever accomplished. Now that the Braves are a competitive club year in and year out, I have become less resilient to defeat. However, I still have that childlike twinkle in my eye when I head to the ol' ballpark for a game, still get that nervous feeling in my stomach right before the regular season begins, and still have a routine before tuning in to Braves baseball. I'm a school teacher, a beach bum, a disc-golfer, a hiker, a biker, a dedicated husband, and a kid at heart that loves the Braves with the same fierceness as I did in the 80's.