Foreword

The first time I saw Chipper Jones play, he was in high school at the Bolles School in Jacksonville, Florida. As general manager of the Braves, I had gone to watch him with Paul Snyder, our scouting director, leading up to the 1990 draft. I told Paul, “Don’t show me which one he is.” I wanted to try to pick him out.

They were doing exercises with their T-shirts on, not in uniform, and I picked him out immediately. It had to be him, he just stood out. He was six foot four, and you could see right away what an athlete he was. He was a smart kid, too. He had a great family upbringing. He had everything going for him—everything. He’s just one of those guys who comes along every once in a while. Jim Beauchamp, our bench coach for a lot of years, used to call guys like Henry Aaron and Willie Mays—and Chipper Jones—chosen. He was chosen.

He’s going to be a first-ballot Hall of Famer, one of the greatest switch-hitters that ever played the game. Generally, switch-hitters don’t hit the same on both sides, but Chipper hit .300 both ways. Other managers used to turn Chipper around and make him hit right-handed. He hit more often left-handed because there were more right-handed starters, so they probably did the right thing. But it never bothered me one bit because he could really hit right-handed, too.

When Chipper was younger, I loved to watch him run the bases. It reminded me a little bit of Mickey Mantle. Jim Hegan, the great catcher for the Cleveland Indians who caught for Bob Feller, Bob Lemon, and Mike Garcia—all those great pitchers—was our bullpen coach with the Yankees when I got called up in 1968. He told me, “You’re going to love watching Mickey Mantle run.” It was special, even with a bad knee at the end of Mantle’s career. Chipper could run, too. After his knee injury, Chipper picked his spots, but he could steal a base in a heartbeat. And when he took off, you knew he was going to be safe.

Chipper was a tremendous student of the game. He had tunnel vision every night. You’d watch Chipper on the bench and he was zoned in on the game, the pitcher. His wheels were spinning from the first inning to the ninth inning. Nothing ever got away from him, ever. His concentration level was so much higher than most players’.

The chosen ones, so to speak, could hit at any time, and Chipper was always ready to hit. He could walk up there with tennis shoes on and still hit a home run. The great thing about Chip, he could hit the ball to the opposite field out of the ballpark, both ways. He’s a big kid with a fairly long swing, but he could get out in front of the ball with anybody. His ball just kept carrying. You would think there would be a weakness in there; there wasn’t. Chipper would get jammed maybe once every fifty games. It was amazing. If they tried to pitch him inside, he killed them. The Mets were one of the teams that did and he got them good in 1999.

You know how great he was? He led the league in hitting at age thirty-six. He was second in the league when he was thirty-five. Leading the league that late in his career is something only the greats do. Stan Musial did it. Ted Williams did it.

Chipper was the face of our organization for all those years we were winning division titles, with his ability, his good looks. The name Chipper Jones rings a bell with everybody. We were on TV all across the country with TBS during those days, and I think his name was almost as big in Seattle, Washington, as it was in Atlanta. But Chipper had the personality to go along with the name. He was a superstar player but he always took the time to sign autographs and take pictures, interact with kids.

Chipper Jones was one of the greatest ballplayers in the league, and we had him. It made my managing job easier. He was a gamer. He had bad knees forever and he played through everything. And he was as clutch a hitter as they come.

Chipper had a ton of great moments in a Braves uniform. His career was something special. I’m glad he decided to share his story, not just with Braves fans but baseball fans across the country.

—Bobby Cox,
Hall of Fame Manager