Once again, Julio Teheran was decent other than the gopherballs — but when that gopherball is a grand slam, it kind of doesn’t matter what you do the rest of the time. The slumping Freddie Freeman was given a day off, and the Braves’ bats collegially followed suit.
If Mac were here, A.J. Pierzynski would be in the doghouse and Willy Aybar would be the whipping boy.
But singling out the players for criticism seems almost hilariously beside the point. Train your anger where it belongs. At the suits who grabbed buckets of cash from Cobb County when the opportunity arose, sold every asset on the team for unreliable scrap, and laughed all the way to the bank. At Terry McGuirk and Bobby Cox and John Hart and John Coppolella and John Schuerholz and John Malone. They built this monstrosity from Abbie Normal bargain-basement beer league players, slapped uniforms on their back, called them a baseball team, charged money to watch them play, and copyrighted the broadcasts. I hope that they watch every Chip Caray call of every lousy inning of every miserable game of this fleabitten team and I hope that their Coke goes flat and their nacho cheese congeals into an inedible heap before the third inning.