A baseball, tears and Ole No. 6
"To Letha, Best Wishes Bobby Cox" Bobby Cox died yesterday. He was 84. Why do we always give the age without thinking? I guess the age is the point to the living. I probably watched or listened to Bobby Cox manage close to 2,000 ballgames in my life. That number spans generations. My grandfather (who I called Pop) watched him. I watched him. The Atlanta Braves on TBS were the family's nightly summer entertainment long before I had any say in the matter. As long as MASH or The Waltons weren't on or the score wasn't too lopsided, we were watching the Braves. My mother was the baseball fan in the house. That's where I got it. Dad understood it. But he was more into horses and rodeos. Pop loved to watch Cox argue with umpires and get tossed. He would shake with laughter. It was comical to him. He'd start out with saying "Oh, now Bobby," to the TV set and then start rolling. I know what it was now. That hard-nosed, absolute refusal to let a possi...