As I've said before in this space, the Braves on WTBS were the single biggest coping mechanism at my disposal after my family moved to the foreign land of West Virginia in January 1985, and Caray was perhaps the biggest reason for that. There were many nights in those dark days when Skip sounded like he truly wanted to be elsewhere -- and who could blame him -- but he was at work at 7:35 every evening. If he could do it, I felt, so could I, and for the next twenty-some-odd years he was there for me at the end of most of my days. Even if the game was awful, he'd at least remind me that Two Mules for Sister Sara was coming on afterwards, and there is some kind of wisdom in that somehow.
A lotta room in right-center, if he hits one there we can dance in the streets. The 2-1. Swung, line drive left field! One run is in! Here comes Bream! Here’s the throw to the plate! He is…safe! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win!…Braves win! They may have to hospitalize Sid Bream; he’s down at the bottom of a huge pile at the plate. They help him to his feet. Frank Cabrera got the game winner! The Atlanta Braves are National League champions again! This crowd is going berserk, listen!Everything dies.