These last couple of years the trademark of the Atlanta Braves has been a preponderance of young, homegrown players who were born and bred in Georgia: Jeff Francoeur, Brian McCann, Chuck James, Macay McBride, Kyle Davies.
Think maybe the inbreeding has caught up with them?
The family elders — Cox, Smoltz and those dirty Jones boys — still preside over the clan and I keep hearing about this new, improved bullpen that’s nothing like all those previously new, improved bullpens, but the Braves don’t look like The Braves to me anymore. Turner Field doesn’t look like Turner Field to me anymore. They’re just another team in just another ballpark on just another road trip. They could beat us today. They could beat us tomorrow. Anybody could beat anybody twice. That still wouldn’t make them The Braves. That’s over. That’s not four games talking. That’s 166 and counting.
Chris Woodward…Tyler Yates…Roger McDowell…the Braves don’t poach outside the family as well as they used to either.