Who the hell is Adam LaRoche?

I don?t like change. So when I turn on TBS and see a Braves lineup consisting of guys named Wise, Thomson, and Estrada, it makes me uneasy. This unease tends to manifest itself with shouting. ?Who? WHO? Where the hell did that guy come from, and WHERE?S JAVY?? Obviously I didn?t pay enough attention during the offseason. (The only downside to no longer being a daily subscriber to that bastion of crappy journalism, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.)

I will admit it. Some change is alright. I wasn?t unhappy to see Ryan Klesko leave, even though it means I no longer get to laugh myself silly watching him fall down at the plate while whiffing a home run cut. Tootle-oo, Tom Glavine, and don?t let the door hit your inflated ego on the way out. Hello, feisty Rafael Furcal and tasty Marcus Giles! But why did Maddux have to go?

Sigh. There is now just one player left from when I first became a Braves fan in 1991, and that's John Smoltz. His is the only bobble-head to earn a place atop our TV amongst our collection of plush baseball mascots. (Right now Mr. Met seems to be eyeing him in a way that clearly says, ?mmm, tasty snack.?) Thanks, John, for sticking around and continuing to impress. But the truth is, I still miss my Rafael Belliard.