WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!

Nobody’s Opinion; Okay, I’m gloating. World Series Championships only come to a town maybe once in a life time and St. Louis is second only to the Yankees in World Series appearances. Right now, as I write this some 30 miles outside of town, 500,000 very happy, goofy people dressed in red are downtown St. Louis cheering the team…a team that in the last stretch leading up to the play offs, lost nine of their twelve last games.

Because of some real suspicious looking throws to third by the Detroit pitchers, and the fact that the Detroit team had a lot of time off before the last games, the Cardinals and their fans (after waiting twenty years for a World Series win) got their cup of joy and happiness. A couple of years ago, they lost the World Series to Boston. But now, finally can say they are the World Champions.

And the World Series could not have come to two cities in the Midwest who needed the revenue more; Detroit and St. Louis: cities of layoffs and middle class destruction.

Baseball like many other things in America is a dying sport. Oh, you can’t tell it from listening to anyone in the media. But the attendance during the season at most of the parks is way down and they hide that fact. They try real hard not to take camera shots of all the empty seats. Like the economy, they twist the stats, but baseball has been dying for quite some time, ever since the strike in 1994.

This year set a record as being the lowest watched World Series in history.

More people attend NASCAR races than baseball.

Go past any ballpark in your local neighborhood, and the fields are empty. The kids are all playing video games. Where once the neighborhood kids would spend all Saturday and Sunday getting games together with their friends for fun and refreshing the major leagues with homespun boys, now, the lineups are filled with Hispanics, who are out playing baseball games because they can’t afford video games.

And it’s sad, because baseball used to be a real family affair. But, as we all know, there are more single families now than married couples. Fewer dads around to keep up the spirit. And sorry girls, playing catch with mom is just not the same.

But…Oh the memories it brings! I remember watching a pitcher named John Tutor pitch a near perfect game in a playoff game once. It was like the whole stadium was on some sort of LSD, no one could believe how the ball seemed to just float, and then almost stop in mid-air, before every single guy struck out. It was a human feat that we all knew would only happen once in our lifetimes. Later, Whitey Herzog wrote about that very same game in his memoirs called “The White Rat.”

Even the second baseman was looking at the pitcher with awe.
And admit it…when a game is close…it’s just the most exciting thing, you just feel like dancing, laughing, and all your troubles just drift away. AND you get to share these bubbles of life with all those around you, even strangers! Sports draw people into a wonderful euphoric state of bliss, not to be experienced any where else.

If only the jihads played baseball.

My mother was the one responsible for me getting hooked on baseball. I had been recently divorced and wanted to meet men. She suggested I go to ball games. So, I’d put on my short-shorts and went, hoping…maybe…someone would ask me out.

No, I never got a date…the closest I got was guys coming over and saying things like “How old are you REALLY?” To which I’d always answer, “Sixty-One.”

Still, I did get a real love for baseball. I got hooked, and if you look at any fan of any sport, you wonder---just what is it about people watching their local sports teams that gets them emotionally so charged that some of them would give their least favorite child for tickets to the World Series? Look at the camera shots of people praying in the playoffs, as if their whole life and happiness depends on the strikeout of the other team’s slugger. Sometimes, there are actual tears at a loss.

Is this a genetic proclivity left over from the Roman gladiator days?

Why do people who can’t afford it, pay outlandish prices for tickets? The prices here have gone up so much, many of the poor have to take out loans just to sit in the bleachers.

I have a simple theory…hope. Life is not easy. Like baseball, much of the time you are either striking out, or never getting home. The other guy is always hitting home runs it seems. But you go to a game, and your team wins, and somehow, all is right with the world. You start to believe luck might shine on you one day, if you just keep batting.

I’ve only been to one World Series Game--- it was in 1985. The Cardinals were playing Kansas City. I did not have a ticket, and I had been walking around the stadium here for about 3 hours looking for a scalper ticket that I could afford. My feet were tired. I was tired. I sat down on the curb and decided to give up.

I looked up at the sky and said, “Okay God, you’ve got exactly five minutes to get me a ticket because if YOU don’t, I’m going home.” (I really did say that.)

I was rubbing my feet when this nice man came over and said, “Do you have a ticket to the game? Our buddy is not going to make it and we have an extra ticket.”

So, God came through. I not only met three of the nicest gentlemen around, but I got to sit in the 11th row behind the dugout on the third base side, something every baseball fan would die for. The picture you see above was taken in 1987, that’s me in the middle. (Remember, big hair was in.) We lost that game big time, and the series, but it didn’t matter. Just to get to the World Series is a big thing for any fan.

St. Louis is one of the last die-hard baseball cities. Why? Because besides taking in a movie, there really is not much else to do here. We are one of the last of the truly American cities to go down with a fight. We do love our baseball, our beer, and our Clydesdales, our Mike Shannon (sportscaster) and we are truly the best fans any team has ever had…why? Because the fans here will applaud any player that gives a fine performance, even if he is on the opposing team, and even if we are losing.

That’s real class.

And even if you don’t see that in real life much anymore, you will see that here. So…this Buds for You St. Louis…and to all baseball fans everywhere.

And to Doug Powers and the Rogue Jew, two fine representations of REAL American men here on MND….better luck next time…are you wearing red today?

Nobody’s Perfect; Kenny Rogers, the Detroit pitcher in game 2, had some “tar” on his palm, thereby cheating. To the Cardinal’s coach’s ( Tony La Russo) credit, he let it go. Even though it was cheating, by letting the game go on, it was the psychologically right thing to do. In other words…Hey, we can beat you even if you cheat!

Nobody Knows: The fans here in St. Louis have had a hard time excepting the quiet coach Tony La Russo. He lives in California, drinks wine, not beer, and has put his life into working to save animals. But this year, he quietly showed everyone that sooner or later the good guys win. Tony is the dream coach. He used a rookie pitcher to close the last game, when he could have easily lost the series. Tony has a gift of believing in the ordinary man, and gets them to do remarkable things.

Don’t you wish we had more politicians like that?

Nobody Cares; Now, here’s a juicy baseball story.

One time, after a late game, I was so afraid to walk to my car alone that I went across the street to the Hotel bar. It’s was after midnight, and one of the radio announcers from the San Diego team was at the bar, and I told him about my problem, So, he offered to walk me to my car, and I thought to myself…well, he’s very well known right? I SHOULD be able to trust him. Besides, I really thought the next’s day’s paper would say “GIRL SHOT AND KILLED --FOUND ON PARKING LOT AFTER GAME.” Sometimes, you just know it, always trust your gut.

So, this famous man (in San Diego) walks me to my car and I drove him back to the bar, dropped him off, parked the car in a safe place, and went in to have a nightcap because I was so thankful to the man for being such a gentleman to me and for being alive. (And I told him so.)

As I walked into the bar, all the players smiled and laughed at my entrance…and I said to him “What’s their problem.”
He said, “I told them you gave me a blow job.” And I said “You’ve got to be kidding?”

“He said no, he was serious.”

“But, that’s really mean, how could you lie?” Yeah, I admit it, I was in shock. Not only that he lied, but that he could have cared less how he made me look.

“How could I not? I have to keep up my reputation.”

Of course I left, actually feeling sorry for this guy who had a great job, respect, but had to lie about being able to score.

Lessons for all you dads to tell your daughter…remember, it’s what you don’t tell her that will get her in trouble. That’s one thing my dad never told me, and my mother did not even know to tell me. Make them street wise for their own sake.