Sevens never were lucky for me

Here are Jeff Francouer and Henri Matisse, Frenchies, if you will. I thought they made a good pair so I painted them into the same world. That's the kind of slant you can expect from the Malted Falcon, a view of sports from a true Atlanta sports fan, such as we are.

I expected big things from Jeff Francoeur on 7-7-007. He hit a long home run off David Wells but more fireworks will be needed on this day. I’m having to watch the game on Fox which is a bitter pill, but one I’m used to swallowing this season. You see, here in the ATL, we're saddled with the Baby Prophecy, Chip Caray. I already know that I’ll be devoting way too much space to this particular abomination so I’ll get back to Fox now. Joe Buck has a smugness that oozes off the screen and it grates on me. He’s so quick to interject his expert opinion before any facts come in. Today, David Wells got ejected in the fourth for arguing balls and strikes with the umpire and properly got ejected. Oh, but little Joe jumped in, calling out the umpire and saying he had a quick fuse. First of all, he has no idea what was said, but mostly it was obvious that the umpire gave Wells a chance to walk away. But no, the big baby wanted his tirade and then Joe Buck defends him. Ugh.
Buck is part of the disturbing trend of the Junior Legacy of announcers. At first I thought this was a cool thing and, in the early ’90s, I welcomed the younger Caray with open arms. After all, I had grown up listening to his father, Skip, on Braves’ TV and radio as well as his being the voice of the Atlanta Hawks in the ’70s. Jack Buck was one of the golden voices of baseball, a silver-haired, crusty, Marlboroed Midwesterner. He had a true gift for telling the story of the game you all were watching together. Joe Buck just spent a half inning of the game between the Atlanta Braves and the San Diego Padres talking about the Chicago White Sox and whether they would be making trades in the next few weeks. In the pregame show, Jeannie Zelasco spoke of “the greatest living baseball player, Willie Mays.” Hmm, I would have to put Hank Aaron and Frank Robinson up there somewhere but I wouldn’t question the expertise of Jeannie Zelasco. In this game, Tim McCarver told us that 39 percent of lead-off walks come around to score. “That’s almost 4 out of 10,” he said, hand to God.
Just to qualify, in the 1979 movie, Prophecy, the monster in the movie was a mutated grizzly bear. Cool, yes, but back in those days, a shark could be referred to as Jaws (like today Charlie Sheen could be referred to as Wall Street or Bruce Willis as Die Hard). Anyway, the Prophecy had a cub or a “Baby Prophecy” that Talia Shire tried to save but it bit her in the neck. That kind of sums up my relationship with Chip Caray, until further notice, the Baby Prophecy.
Andruw Jones ties the game with a two run triple. Perhaps the table is being set for the heroics of one French hearted Brave yet. Nope. Just a grey day in July when Wimbledon couldn't keep me awake. Hopefully the final between Federer and Nadal will be worth the early rise tomorrow. Meanwhile, it's one more Saturday night. I'll try to post regularly here and there's a lot to rail about so stay tuned and pass this address around. It honors "70s Braves' catcher, Biff Pocoroba, one of my favorite players and one of the best baseball names of all time. Peace!