Bill Shanks
| Special to the Savannah Morning News
It was 1977 when Brian Snitker first put on a Braves uniform. He was only 21 years old, just out of the University of New Orleans. It was with the Kinston Braves in the Appalachian League.
For the next four seasons, Snitker played and made it to Double-A Savannah. And then, after 236 minor league games as a player, Snitker was called in to talk with Hank Aaron. Yes, that Hank Aaron, who broke Babe Ruth’s home run record less than a decade before.
Aaron basically had good news and bad news. The bad news was the Braves thought Snitker was done as a player. The good news? Aaron wanted him to be a coach.
For the next 45 years, Snitker put on the uniform with that Braves logo on the front. For parts of 20 seasons, it was as a minor league manager. Five years were spent as a coach in the minors. Snitker spent 11 seasons as a coach in Atlanta, and for the last nine-plus seasons, he was the manager of the Atlanta Braves.
That’s 49 seasons with one organization. Snitker never left, never tried to find greener pastures elsewhere. He was always a Brave, sown into the fabric of what made the organization what it is even today. Snitker loved the uniform, and four years ago he hoisted a World Series trophy as the Braves won it all.
You would think that history would afford Snitker the opportunity to know when he would walk off the field for the last time in that uniform. But book chapters don’t always end with happy endings. Sometimes the wrong thing happens anyway.
The prevailing narrative was this was going to be Snitker’s decision. His contract as manager was up after the 2025 season. He would be approaching his 70th birthday. But silence is sometimes deafening. It became obvious by comments on both sides the subject of 2026 was just not mentioned.
On Sept. 8, when Atlanta general manager Alex Anthopoulos was asked about Snitker’s status, he said Snitker would be a “Brave for life.” That’s it. No longer was it said that this was going to be Snitker’s decision, but that comment turned out to be a subtle hint that something was up.
When Anthopoulos was then asked if the team would announce any decision ahead of time so Snitker could be acknowledged by the home fans, Anthopoulos said, “That’s none of my business.”
Huh? You are the general manager. How could it not be your business? That’s your job to make it your business. Anthopoulos also tried to throw it off by saying, “I’m not the owner, obviously. Terry McGuirk is in this role as chairman.”
Hint, hint. McGuirk, the de facto owner of the weird setup, was making this call. Not Snitker. Not Anthopoulos. That sentence right there told us who would make this call.
It was obvious the tone had changed. But two weeks later, when the media pressed him about his future, Snitker said he was unsure about walking away. It was clear he was hinting that he did not want to go out with this lousy season. And how great would it have been for him to manage Atlanta in 2026 in what would be his 50th season in the organization, with a team that would surely be improved and perhaps even have better luck than the last two seasons, and then exit stage left.
Okay, so if the Braves wanted to move on, why didn’t they approach Snitker and tell him? They were his bosses. That was their job. Why did they wait until this week and then let him know they wanted to move on? Why couldn’t have McGuirk told him on September 1, so they could have truly honored a man that gave his life to this organization?
Addressing the issue earlier would have allowed Snitker to go out with the true honor he deserved. They could have made the last weekend of the season “Brian Snitker Weekend,” honoring him for his career of service. McGuirk could have given Snitker the chance to tip his cap to the fans, and in turn, allow the fans to loudly demonstrate how much they appreciate his unparalleled tenure wearing that uniform.
But no. Turns out Charlie Morton, who was 49-42 as a Brave, got a better sendoff. Turns out the winner of the Walter Banks award for the employee who exemplifies extraordinary guest services was even given a plaque on the field and had his picture taken with the team owner.
But the man who won 2,158 games in a Braves uniform, between Atlanta and the minor leagues, was not allowed to soak up the praise he so richly deserved. Oh, the Braves will honor him. He will go into the team’s Hall of Fame next summer, and that’ll be great. But shouldn’t they have handled this better these last few weeks?
This is reminiscent of what happened 42 years ago, right after the 1983 season. Phil Niekro was 44 years old at the end of that year, and the front office wanted him to retire. They didn’t tell him that until after the season. The trouble was, Niekro did not believe he was finished. He still wanted to pitch. So, he was just released. A Braves legend was just let go, and not even given the notice that his career in that uniform was done.
“The only thing I would have liked to have known, and I’m very serious when I say this, is I would have liked to have known that when I was walking off that mound out there for the last time as an Atlanta Brave… I would have liked to have known that,” Niekro said tearfully at the time after his shocking release.
Something tells me Snitker would have wished the same thing. He led his team to a World Series. He led his team to six straight division titles. He led his team to a wildcard berth last year in extraordinary circumstance. And this season’s disaster was certainly not his fault. Yet was he even afforded the opportunity to adequately say goodbye and let the fans say goodbye to him?
Brian Snitker will be fine. He’ll get to see his grandsons play ball next summer. He’ll have a nice new title and a company car and great seats whenever he wants them. He’ll get his Hall of Fame plaque. But Snitker did not get the one thing he so richly deserved as his time in a Braves uniform came to an end.
Respect.
Listen to The Bill Shanks Show weekdays at 3:00 pm ET on 104.3 FM in Savannah and online at TheSuperStations.com. Email Bill at TheBillShanksShow@yahoo.com.