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Monday, June 5, 2006
Braves remember Gregg fondly
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Terence Moore
It was the strike zone from a hitter’s darkest nightmare. Wide, wider and then absolutely outrageous. “If we win that game,” said Braves manger Bobby Cox, shaking his head Monday night at Turner Field while recalling Game 5 of the 1997 National League Championship Series against the Florida Marlins, “we win everything. I mean, the pennant, the World Series, everything.”
Instead, the Braves were scorched out of the playoffs by fire, brimstone and Eric Gregg. Even so, when you listened to those in the home clubhouse who survived their version of hell that night nine years ago in south Florida, they claimed that the big fellow carrying an umpire’s clicker instead of a pitchfork was from heaven.
Said John Smoltz, the Braves’ ultimate historian, recalling Gregg, who died Monday evening at 55 after suffering a massive stroke on Sunday, “I don’t know anybody who ever had a problem with him as far as being approachable.”
Just last month, when Smoltz warmed up in the bullpen at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, all 400-something pounds of Gregg leaned over the railing to yell “Smoltzie” with a wave. That’s because among Gregg’s many jobs since he left the major leagues after the 1999 season was to pour beer at home games for the Philadelphia Phillies. Still, he remained the big (really, really big), jovial umpire to those who remembered. “I was surprised by his weight, but you knew he was trying hard to do his job every day,” said Chipper Jones, the Braves’ third baseman who was around for Gregg’s last five seasons calling a few balls and a lot of strikes.
Then there was Cox, not exactly in line to become head of the umpires’ union someday. Only John McGraw and Leo Durocher have been tossed more as a manager in history. “I don’t think Eric ever threw me out,” Cox said, easing into a chuckle and adding, “Well, he may have, but it probably was because I asked him to. I never had an argument with him.”
Not even on October 12, 1997, when Cox fumed from afar as Gregg’s strike zone grew wider than his waist. Two days later, the Braves were eliminated with barely a whimper at home. If you combine the Braves’ loss to that inferior Marlins bunch with the greatest collapse in the history of the World Series, when they came from ahead in 1996 to choke away a world championship to the New York Yankees, the Braves were rolling toward their yearly habit of October infamy.
“We had a great chance to do something special and be the Yankees,” said Smoltz, referring to how the pinstriped folks eventually won it all four out of five years through 2000. “You’re going to have to strap me up to something and transform me to convince me that we somehow didn’t win (against the Yankees in 1996). I’m still having a hard time with that.
“Then, in 1997, well, I hate talking about that game, because it looks like sour grapes, but we had every chance with the same strike zone with Greg Maddux pitching. Give that guy pitching against us (Monday night) incredible props.”
That guy pitching against the Braves Monday night was Livan Hernandez, now with the Washington Nationals and a loser 10 consecutive times in the regular season against the Braves entering Monday night’s game. He was just mediocre this time when he left the game after six innings with a 5-4 lead. Such definitely wasn’t the case for Hernandez during The Eric Gregg Game, when his rookie arm took advantage of every mile or three of that jumbo strike zone to fan 15 Braves hitters along the way to a 2-1 victory.
Cox shook his head again, saying, “We had runners at first and third that night, and (Hernandez) struck out the next three hitters on called outs. Nobody swung the bat, they were all balls.” Then Cox squinted, before adding in a hurry, “Really, I couldn’t tell from the dugout, because you have no idea where the pitches are. But (Fred) McGriff, (Ryan) Klesko, Chipper. They kept coming back and saying, ‘Bobby, those are unhittable pitches.’”
Yeah, but the Braves hitters didn’t give themselves a chance. They never adjusted to Gregg’s consistently huge strike zone. And the older Maddux could have emulated the younger Hernandez by throwing pitches to where Gregg was calling them.
Now Gregg is calling them Somewhere Up There. “I’ll always think of him with a smile on his face, having fun, doing the best that he could — you know, a guy who could take some teasing and give it right back to you,” Cox said. Then he sighed, chuckled and added, “Oh, I’ll still remember that crazy game, but I’ll remember all of those other things even more.”
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