Most of my generation — I’m an early millennial; I remember life with dial-up internet — watched television for enjoyment.

A lot of people my age grew up watching shows such as “Saved by the Bell,” “Boy Meets World” and “Family Matters.”

But I never did.

As a youngster, I didn’t spend my time in front of the tube watching sitcoms or dramas. Although comedy and drama certainly could unfold with me on the couch and the TV on in our Saginaw, Michigan, home.

If I wasn’t outside playing some sort of sport with the neighborhood kids, I was inside watching sports on TV. What did I watch the most?

The Atlanta Braves.

As a Little League third baseman, I naturally gravitated to Braves legend and 2018 Hall of Fame inductee Chipper Jones. I only played with Rawlings gloves because Chipper did. I wore Mizuno cleats, just like my idol.

Only I couldn’t switch hit like him.

There was more than just him, though. There’s the Big Three — future Hall of Famers John Smoltz, Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux. There were also fellow pitchers Steve Avery, a Michigan native like me, and Mark Wohlers.

And I can’t forget Fred McGriff, David Justice and Javy Lopez either.

It was 1995, and the Braves were World Series champions.

As a fresh 10-year-old, I jumped on the bandwagon and never got off.

Long before GameChanger permeated today’s society as a stat-keeping tool for baseball and softball, I watched Braves games with a scorebook in my hands.

I wrote down each team’s lineup. I marked balls and strikes, wrote down 6-4-3 double plays, singles in the gap or doubles to the corner.

I loved every second of it.

The years went on, and I never faltered as a Braves fan.

I remember Andruw Jones — he was born the same day as my oldest brother — becoming the youngest player to hit a home run in the postseason in ’96, as well as being the second player ever to hit homers in his first two World Series at bats.

The 1996 season is the same year I learned to hate the Yankees.

I’d hate them even more in 1999, when Jim Leyritz hit a game-tying three-run home run in Game 4, sparking a New York 10-inning win to tie the series and eventually their second of three consecutive titles.

Disappointment continued from there. While Atlanta went on to win six more division championships to cap a stretch of 14 straight titles, they weren’t able to advance past the NLCS.

In 2004, I got to see the Braves play in person for the first time when they made a trip up to Detroit. I witnessed Jones hit what was at the time the longest home run — 440 feet to dead center field — at Comerica Park.

I’ve since seen them play five more times, none of which have been in Atlanta.

Hall of Fame manager Bobby Cox retired in 2010, and the Braves were far from the team they were in the ’90s.

Jones retired two years later with his career ending, in part, on a bogus infield fly call from umpire Sam Holbrook in the inaugural Wild Card Playoff game.

As the years passed and I began my career at The Commercial Review, the time I’ve been able to spend in front of a TV watching sports, especially the Braves, has been limited.

But I’ve remained a fan nevertheless. They’ve been fun to follow in recent years with young talent like Ronald Acuña Jr., Dansby Swanson and Ozzie Albies.

The Braves were primed to make the World Series last year. They had a 3-1 lead in the National League Championship Series against the Los Angeles Dodgers, but blew it. Such has been the life of a Braves fan the previous 25 years.

On Oct. 23, the Braves won the National League pennant, marking the first time since 1999 they had been to the Fall Classic. As they clinched, I sat alone in my living room with tears streaming down my face.

Having the Detroit Tigers play in the World Series both in 2006 and 2012 was nice, but it just didn’t feel right. While I was cheering on my hometown team, I wasn’t cheering on MY team; my Atlanta Braves.

Over the course of the last two weeks, though, I’ve gotten to watch intently as my team was in the World Series again. Tuesday, the night of my second wedding anniversary, Chrissy was in bed while I sat in the living room alone watching the Braves take on the Houston Astros in Game 6.

Eventual World Series MVP Jorge Soler staked Atlanta to a 3-0 lead with a moonshot home run in the third inning. Swanson hit a two-run homer in the fifth, and 2020 NL MVP Freddie Freeman hit an RBI double to make it 6-0. Freeman then hit a solo home run in the seventh.

As the game progressed, the lead made me happy but did not cause me to celebrate. Two days earlier in Atlanta, the Braves led 4-0 in the first inning and lost 9-5.

Prior to the top of the ninth inning, though, the gravity of the situation hit me.

Closer Will Smith gave up a leadoff single to Michael Brantley. Carlos Correa lined out to right field. Yordan Alvarez flied out to left. Yuli Gurriel grounded out to Swanson at shortstop.

I was elated. I posted a picture to social media of me in my Chipper Jones jersey and Braves hat with my hands pointing to the sky. Surprisingly, I didn’t cry this time.

It all came full circle.

Twenty-six years after a World Series title got me hooked, the Atlanta Braves put me on top of the world once again as World Champions.