Bye Bye, Number Five

St. Louis has two major religions - Catholicism and St. Louis Cardinals baseball.  It's home to two main houses of worship - the basilica on Lindell Blvd. and Busch Stadium on Clark Ave.  In its down home Midwest way it worships its heroes unconditionally, wrapped in swaddling clothes emblazoned with an embroidered number 5.  Even if you're one of the less appreciative players after your St. Louis career years and embarrass yourself with the wrong choice words (I'm looking at you, Jim Edmonds) you will be welcomed back with open arms.

So this week, the St. Louis media sugarcoated the enormity of the Albert Pujols situation.  Meanwhile, a St. Louis based sports shop gave away Pujols' jerseys "because it's not about the money."

It's more than anger or resentment.  It's flat out disappointment.  It's coming home to find Papa Tony LaRussa on the front steps after curfew, as he slowly pulls up his aviators to stare intently down upon you.  You hang your head and sulk into the house, a few minutes after midnight.

St. Louis, and a larger part of the Midwest, embraces its golden children, putting them on an impossibly hard to reach pedestal.  Rather than boo and downgrade, there's always a positiveness that "things will move in the right direction."  Even the media takes this approach.  It's mostly endearing until you find yourself standing outside of the warm embraces.  Then it only seems naive as if you're standing among the halls of the school of ignorance as bliss.

So now our legend, the one who spent a season saying he wanted to end a career in St. Louis, is gone. Comparing this to a bad boyfriend I could only exclaim, "why didn't you just tell me this in the first place?!"  Of course it was about the money.  I heard it all including, " but he is the greatest player in baseball, he was worth more during his time in St. Louis and he wasn't paid like that. Bla bla bla."  Find me one career where you are paid retroactively and I'll give you $250 million over ten years.  I'm that confident I won't be delivered an answer.

There is a number 5 National League All-Star jersey hanging in my closet that won't be put to use any time soon.  Of course it makes me sad, but I was a Cardinals fan first.  It all begin to wear on me when, during the most unbelievable of runs to a World Series championship, it was being overshadowed by one person.  The drama can start to dwindle and we can finally focus on the future.  A future of a reliable third started or a bull pen that doesn't rise and fall like the sun.  Also, more championships.  I'm certain of that one.

It's the hap-happiest season of all

Today is Opening Day, my favorite day of the year in a photo finish tie with Christmas.  It encouraged no less than three Facebook updates before 10 a.m.  For the next six, wonderful months and 2,430 regular season games hours in bars will be slightly more entertaining, Baseball Tonight will be on the DVR for Top 10 highlights and trips to St. Louis to see the Cardinals (and my family, I guess) will be necessary.  Also, a meager $19.95 was spent on MLB.com Gameday Audio to make work way better...and I type this as I listen to Opening Day ceremonies at Busch Stadium.  How could I possibly miss "Jimmy Boy" Edmonds throw out the first pitch?

I'm just so giddy!

Mike Bauman, MLB columnist, probably says it better than me so I will give credit where credit is due.

It means that this is a time of beginning, of renewal...It is all new. Everyone is unbeaten. Everyone has a dream. Nobody has had time to have the dream smashed to smithereens, or realized, for that matter. 

Make it a great one everyone!

Beautiful site.

 My brother and I at the 2009 All Star Game at Busch Stadium.  One of the greatest days of my life and couldn't have spent it with anyone else.

"Let's All Raise a Glass to The Man"

With all this St. Louis Cardinals/Albert Pujols/$30 million at age 40 talk I'm honestly just rolling my eyes.  Athletes are just people and after watching LeBron's over-zealous, blown out decision last year I decided I don't give a shit about the hype of celebrity. At least with Albert there's no over the top, primetime press conference; it's a stalemate so we can all get back to baseball and figure it out from there. I'm cool with that.  Diva athletes, superstars, whatever can take their millions and roll around in gold coins like Scrooge McDuck for all I care.  (Click Scrooge McDuck for a fantastic RetroJunk clip.)

While everyone was getting caught up over Albert Watch 2k11 I was logging my time reading about Stan "The Man" Musial's day.  A 24-time All Star, a three-time World Series winner, a nearly 20-year Cardinal.  I was fortunate to see Musial at the 2009 All-Star Game at Busch Stadium; my brother and I practically fell over ourselves cheering during his standing ovation.  He was 88 at the time but, as he encircled the field on a red cart, showed all the light and fire of someone in his prime.

Yesterday he received the Presidential Medal of Freedom at the White House and the experience, as described by the media and his own careful words, were the "greatest day in my [his] life."  It's hard to imagine how many "greatest days" Stan has had to this date.  This article by Bernie Miklasz, for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, moved me to tears and reminded me of the goodness and appreciativeness of others.  As much as I would love to transcribe these feelings I will let one of my favorite movie quotes do it for me.

"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time...it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again."
- Field of Dreams

Congrats to one of my heroes.  You the man, Stan.

February 15, 2011 flight back to St. Louis from Washington D.C. (via StanTheManInc)

 During Stan's standing O, 2009 All-Star Game.

First meeting with Barack, 2009 All-Star Game. 

Yep, I was there.

A Lengthy Post about Baseball, Steroids and Childhood

Today is one of those rare days at work that I have time to myself, most of which I use to read.  CNN, Gawker, blogs, whatever.  Unfortunately, this means I will be slammed on Monday as our processes are delayed but no matter.  Happy Friday.

First, I give props to my brother.  An aspiring journalist at SIU, Ryan is on the campus desk after a stint as sports editor.  He was the first one that got me thinking about my own personal experience about the McGwire issue, not so much my reaction.  We have similar views of the topic as we obviously grew up together talking about it.  At only two years apart, we were siblings and playmates and amused ourselves with endless games of catch (until one would likely get pissed at the other and stomp into the house over a bad throw).  So here is Ryan's take, where I quote the stages of "McGwire grief" later on.  Finally: The McGwire Saga.  I admire his writing, not only because it's my sisterly duty but because of his ability to form ideas in the written word.

Another read for today was my friend Steph's baseball blog, Baseball Between the Lines, as I have mentioned before in a post.  The girl breathes baseball and shares that passion online.  I read her most recent post on Mark McGwire's steroid "admittance."  She's a Cubs and Red Sox Fan (I can forgive her for one of them) and I'm a Cardinals fan so we obviously have different experiences concerning the extent of the issue.  So I started to comment on her blog post then realized it was getting pretty lengthy and, honestly, I wanted to make it my own post.  So here we are, the unabridged version.

"I went through the stages of "McGwire grief" during the congressional hearing years ago.  Only years before, I remember watching Big Mac slam number 62 and run around the bases missing first like a excited t-ball player.  I laughed and cried and updated by AOL webpage (seriously).  I viewed numerous clips of him and Sammy Sosa's hug and watched ESPN on repeat.  For God's sake, him and Sosa were said to have saved baseball! 


His image crumbled years later as I watched him cry before Congress and seemingly forget that he ever donned a St. Louis Cardinals uniform.  A uniform I thought I would never turn my back on, number 25.  I mean, my birthday was the 25th of June, total destiny!  On that day, he sat only seats over from Sosa, the pair that brought my family and the nation back to baseball after the '94 strike.  The home run race that, for the first time in baseball history, finally thrust the Cardinals and Cubs rivalry of the Midwest into the spotlight.  East Coast?  West Coast?  Nah.  The real show was somewhere on Interstate 55 with special appearances all over the country. 


Between Sammy's sudden inability to speak English and Big Mac's mutters of "I'm not here to talk about the past" some of my earliest memories of baseball cracked like a bat making contact with a 97-mph fastball.


It's sad what baseball became and, thankfully, will never become again.


For McGwire, I don't think it's so much as asking for forgiveness as rather just coming clean (pun noted).  It's easy to pin point one player, in the media spotlight for a hot second, per usual.  Unfortunately, the names on the leaked steroids list kept the ESPN ticker busy and David Stern's office even busier.

'The bigger they come, the harder they fall.'

I agree that none of these men should be in the Hall of Fame, no matter the sure potential we never saw.  The potential that was there without the steroids.  For this player in particular, I will breathe a sigh of relief.  The devil on my shoulder already told me the obvious, that the idealist image of baseball in my childhood was destroyed."

What I'm Thankful For

Back to the grind!  I hate that term.  Only 3.2 weeks of work until Christmas break.

For realsies though, it's almost December and this morning I accepted the fact that a cold Chicago winter is inevitable.  As if there is any other kind.  In reflection of the holiday, here is a list of things I am thankful for in somewhat of an order.  Family first, then everything else!

• Being my Dad's sidekick when I am home.  Sporting events, Wal-Mart three times in one day, Cracker Barrel?  Works for me and padre.
• My brother and the next Peter Gammons, Ryan!  (Please see resemblance below.)  I imagine Ryan will age better than Peter but that's neither here nor there.  Catch his front page story, here SIU Daily Egyptian 

•  That after viewing the effects of my mom taking vitamins I decided they all negate each other and, in conclusion, cause unnecessary napping.
• Casey, the boyfriend.  I forgot him in the first publish of this post.  We spend a solid amount of our time making fun of strangers...and each other.  When he buys me flowers for the second time (ever) I might buy him a helicopter.
  
• Returning to Chicago after a long train ride and riding in the cab home.  Seeing the lights of the city and personally being part of the skyline is an outstanding experience.
• On the Chicago note, not being a Bears fan.  For real, they are awful.
• To piggyback off THAT, not being a Cubs fan.  Go Cardinals! Less than 100 days until pitchers and catchers report.  My winters are so lonely.
  

• Lady Gaga.  "If I'm a guy and I think Lady Gaga is incredibly talented, am I gay?" The answer is no.
• Kitten Mittens
• Glee and 30 Rock.  I, like, really enjoy those shows.
  
• Being incredibly better looking than the mutants that shop in Southern Illinois at 5 a.m. on Black Friday.  Straight from Dante's seventh ring of HELL, they resembled Sloth from the Goonies.  I will not stand in line with these freaks for a $79 Blu-Ray player.
  

The end.

Slacking! More baseball.

Oh no, slacking! I went to Florida April 4th - 12th with Casey and the family and have been really busy ever since trying to get my life back in order. PLUS, one of my best friends since childhood got married this past weekend so life has been fun. I'll post some pics up here I'm sure. Mostly I just wanted to share this link that Casey sent me today and is even now appearing in my friend Steph's "Between the Lines" baseball blog. Check out her blog here! She updates it almost daily and gives a very journalistic, fresh and unbiased account of baseball for what it really is. Refreshing! So you know, check it out.

This story goes along the one I wrote last month about my Cardinals and the Cubbies rivalry. I love it, it makes me smile and gives me goosebumps. Unfortunately I had to work last week for Thursday and Friday's games (make up those vacation days!) and then the game Sunday was rained out :( But fortunately, rescheduled for a day/night double header on July 12th which is the day before the All-Star break. AMAZING!

Read this article, do it now!

Here is an excerpt from the introduction. "Take the Chicago Cubs and St. Louis Cardinals. All that stands between these two adversaries -- who will renew their rivalry April 24 at Busch Stadium -- is a mere 297 miles of rich, Midwestern soil. With each team intent on owning that land, this rivalry is really a turf war."

Driving directions, according to Google maps, are actually 302 miles from stadium to stadium. 1020 W. Addison Chicago, IL 63102 & 700 Clark St. St. Louis, MO 63102.
Yes Cubs fans - we too have a Clark street.

For fun I am breaking this down. My childhood home is 203 miles, 3 hours and 28 minutes, south on Interstate 55 from Wrigley Field. Exit 100, fyi. From there, continue one hour, 45 minutes and 103 miles farther South to Memorial Drive. in St. Louis. From there...

Welcome home, Cardinals fans!

Cards and Cubs, the I-55 Series

"The Red Sox and Yankees is a tabloid-filled soap opera about money and ego and sound bites. But the Cubs and Cardinals are about... geography and territorial rights." - Buzz Bissinger, Three Nights in August

To start, I am from Springfield, Illinois and extremely proud of it. Land of Lincoln. The kick off point of Barack Obama's presidential campaign Booyah. I find it impossible to believe that anyone outside of this area can appreciate this post for all its worth. This is about the I-55 series or, if you're still reveling in the pre-Eisenhower era, Route 66. However, keep reading because I do not have many followers.

Two words and two worlds: Cardinals, Cubs. Central Illinois is the Berlin Wall of baseball rivalries. I chose West Germany.

Sure, Chicago will blabber on about Sox and Cubs, Southside Northside, whatever I get it and I don't really care. Your fate was primarily decided on your neighborhood, central Illinois isn't like that. We are conservative and liberal, Christian and Lutheran, right-brain and left-brain. Gray area. Boggles your mind. Above all - there is a choice and it is guaranteed you will choose against someone you love very dearly.

Beginning at childhood your world is turned upside down and the manipulation begins by adults pursuing you to sway towards the bright light.

Concerned adult: "Who do you like better, the Cardinals or the Cubs?"
Ignorant child: "I like both?"
Now exasperated adult: "YOU CAN'T LIKE BOTH."

I chose Cardinals. Well Dad chose Cardinals and what four-year-old chooses against Dad? Especially when this Dad had a mustache. I absolutely watched the Cubs' afternoon games with my Grandma and swayed to Harry Caray's drunken rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Some of the best memories of my life. For me though, trips to St. Louis took a day and we frequented the Arch City often. Score one for the Cards. The tradition of losing by an unsaid team probably helped solidify this lasting allegiance. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa in '96. Enough said.

This excerpt is from George Will at a commencement address at Washington University in St. Louis - down the street from my own alma mater at SLU. If you don't know who George Will is, and I will carefully let it slide if you don't, he is a Pulitzer prize winning journalist with a history at both the Washington Post and Newsweek. He was also referenced in "The Jimmy" episode of Seinfeld but that's either here, nor there.

"I grew up in Champaign, Illinois, midway between Chicago and St. Louis. At an age too tender for life-shaping decisions, I made one. While all my friends were becoming Cardinals fans, I became a Cub fan. My friends, happily rooting for Stan Musial, Red Schoendienst, and other great Redbirds, grew up cheerfully convinced that the world is a benign place, so of course, they became liberals. Rooting for the Cubs in the late 1940s and early 1950s, I became gloomy, pessimistic, morose, dyspeptic and conservative. It helped out of course that the Cubs last won the World Series in 1908, which is two years before Mark Twain and Tolstoy died. But that means, class of 1998, that the Cubs are in the 89th year of their rebuilding effort, and remember, any team can have a bad moment."

Amen sir.