Look around when you go the ballpark. It's certainly not an action-packed game that draws crowds--it is the atmosphere and the tradition. As I was sitting in Fenway last spring watching the Rangers demolish the Red Sox, I noticed a family in front of me. Three generations were represented. The grandfather had his mitt, as did the little boy, and the mother was giving her daughter cracker jacks.

And it made me remember my first experience with baseball. I was only five years old, and my parents took my brother and me to a Braves baseball game. I still remember the feeling of entering the ballpark for the first time. The ballpark seems to embody all that is good and fun in life.

Of course, at that time, the excitement centered around Dale Murphy and the prospect of simply winning a game. Those were the dark days of Braves baseball.

Then, in 1991, something truly amazing and unprecedented happened. The Braves started winning.

Throughout the years, the city of Atlanta (and I am a proud native) has experienced numerous problems with crime, race and harmony. Prior to the Olympics in 1996, the downtown area was a place where people rarely felt comfortable walking the streets. The front page of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution seemed to always emphasize the inability of Atlantans to get along with each other.

But not in the fall of 1991. "BRAVES CLINCH" was the headline running across the front page of the paper, while the story on President Bush was pushed to page two. For, in 1991, two miracles happened: the Braves went from worst to first and Atlanta was united behind a single cause--the Braves.

Maybe they disagreed on taxes, land management, and government, but they loved the Braves. Everyone celebrated when Sid Bream slid home safely in Game 7 of the NLCS to send the Pirates back to Pittsburgh. My middle school even incorporated a "Braves spirit" theme day and canceled classes on the day of the Braves parade downtown, even though the parade took place after the Braves lost Game 7 of the World Series (due to Lonnie Smith's baserunning slip, I might add).