Goodnight, Season

Congratulations to the 2007 World Champion Boston Red Sox. That sentence stings to type, but it's true. At the end of the day they were the better team -- they pitched better and hit better, and that's the formula that wins you championships. Our Cinderella story wasn't enough to get us over the hump over a team that's us in 2 or 3 years -- a finished product with the right mix of experience and youth. Perhaps the layoff did affect us after all, as I do not think we played the way we are capable of playing, but it's true that the Red Sox were just better.

This Series hurt and wasn't much fun to watch. I can't say I enjoyed it. But nothing can take away from what we did this year, not even slavering Sox fans and mediots claiming this proves their point about the superiority of the AL. It's still been an almost even trade-off between NL and AL for championships. AL, NL, AL, NL, AL, AL, NL, AL.

How odd it is to love a baseball team. How strange and tender I feel now... just tired, sad, and relieved, slightly hollowed out, in undeniable pain, in relief to have it end, despair of the offseason and hope for next year. Strangely enough, I love the Rockies more than ever, my devotion to them becomes fierce, my love completely untested and part of me forever. Defeat does not break me. The gloating might bother me (as I may have mentioned, the most annoying person on my campus is a Red Sox fan and I do not think that is by accident). Brian Fuentes may have single-handedly killed the last two games for us and it's time for him to be shown the door (once a season-killer, always a season-killer). I've heard tantalizing rumors about us pursuing Ian Snell. And nothing came of it, but that eighth-inning home run by Atkins still made me want to bear his children.

I find myself wondering what it is, over and over, what makes us tick as baseball fans. Pain and pleasure alike have been a big part of October, as is always. We lost the war, but we won this battle; we are the NL champs and nothing can take that away from us. What we did was unprecedented and I look forward to building on it next year. The day after the World Series is like the day after Christmas. Such a letdown... time to bring on the hot stove and see if we can improve upon the pieces we have in place. Our kids have postseason experience and hopefully won't be deer in the headlights. And we didn't choke. While admittedly not playing our best by a long shot, we just ran into a team that was hot at the right time and did the right things.

Let nobody disparage this Colorado Rockies team for how it ended. They were a part of the last game of 2007. They've climbed the peak for the first time, and I don't expect them to be content with mediocrity, now that they've had a taste of rarified air. They will be back. If nothing else, Tulo won't take this.

I love them brutally, so much that it does things like this to me. Next year can't come soon enough. I want to be back there, I hope that what they've done this year will entice others to come as well. The year is over now, I feel very sad and upset about its close, and of course I wish it could have ended differently, but if anything else, this has intensified the deep love that I will and always bear for my Colorado boys.

See you next year, Red Sox. Goodnight, season. Come soon, spring training. The offseason is dark and cold.

Ouch

I disdain saying more, except: It has to get better from here. 0-1. Pah. Nothing. We'll go back to Coors 1-1 and it'll be okay.

That said, tonight felt like being sodomized with a broken bat and a fistful of tacks.

I make no apologies for that mental image.

Night all.

Well, Now We Know

And frankly, once the Indians lost Game 5, I wasn't too surprised. They had a chance to close it out at home with their ace on the mound, and choked, then went to Fenway and lost again with their other ace on the mound, and neither of them impressed at all. You just kind of knew the Sox were going to win tonight, no matter how much you hoped otherwise, and well, they did. The Boston Yankees, I should say. Arrogant fans, arrogant jerkwad players, buying up everything they need, no longer the lovable underdog, they're just the Evil Empire redux. May they be pwninated in four.

I'm sure everyone and his brother will pick the Sox in four or five. Hell, I hope they pick the Sox in "three" -- we know how well that worked for the Tigers last year. Because they're the big, bad, AL, because ESPN loves that one of their media juggernauts made it, because they have Josh Freakin' Beckett. Well, anybody bother to check the stats? Seems to me we outscored the Sawx 20-5 at Fenway in June, put a world of hurt on Schilling and Beckett, and took two out of three. See, we've been playing well since BEFORE September.

A few reasons the Rockies are going to rock the Sox:

-- Since May 22, we've had baseball's best record at 79-45; we just had to turn on the afterburners for that final hump into September.

-- We were 21-12 against the AL the past two seasons, a .636 winning percentage, and that was before we were razing everything in our path.

-- The Red Sox play in the AL, sure. They also play in the East. I bet we could have won 96 games if we got to face the Blue Jays, Devil Rays, and Orioles (the first one mediocre, the latter two totally inept) 50 or 60 times a year.

-- The Rockies have lost exactly one game since the middle of September. Why are we going to lose four in a week and a half?

-- We have better speed and defense.

-- The Red Sox aren't equipped to play at Coors. Manny in the cavernous left field? Ortiz at first base? Wakefield's knuckler isn't going to break in the thin air, and Dice-K will be thrown off by pitching at altitude. Let's not tell him about the humidor.

The one problem: the hitting. We have a .242 average in the postseason and we're going to need to turn it on against the Beantown Bombers. Hopefully, the pitching can continue the trend of damping the fuse against high-octane offenses, but the hitting is going to need to bring the sticks. But all year, and especially in October, they've found a way to get it done, however and whenever. National League Champion Rockies sounds surreal enough, but it's not the final stop for the Purple Express. I expect they'll drop the first one against Beckett (but then again, who knows?) then turn on the jets, rip off four, and win the damn thing at home in a game that Denver will always remember.

Rockies in five.

Colorado Rockies: 2007 National League Champions

It's downright crazy. I don't know that I believe it. My reaction was rather subdued; I must be dreaming. Matt Holliday getting hit by a pitch and turning into the Incredible Hulk the next at-bat, as he did tonight, crushing a monster three-run blast to make it 6-1 after Seth Smith had a pinch-hit, two-run double and Kaz had an RBI single. Of course, if I thought it was going to be easy from there, I was wrong. The shakes and the hyperventilating from when Bad Brian Fuentes reared his ugly head to allow a three-run homer to Chris Snyder in the eighth -- making it 6-4 -- are barely subsiding. Especially after that, Fuentes allows a triple, Manny Corpas comes in, strikes out Tony Clark, and for the top of the ninth -- groundout, double, popout (on 3-0) and groundout, from local goat Eric Byrnes, to punch the Rockies' ticket to their first World Series ever.

I need to not go broke on NL Champs gear. I love them all. I want to read everything about this magical night. I want four more wins and a parade through Denver. And no, I don't think this is too much. We just may be that team of destiny, and I've waited for this. And nothing will ever stop me from wishing passionately I was in Colorado, screw school and everything else. I yearn to be on 20th and Blake with all the other fans who love this team the way I do.

COLORADO ROCKIES.

2007 NATIONAL LEAGUE CHAMPIONS

Let that one settle in for a while. I sure need to.

Playoffs, Day 14: Incredible, Unbelievable, Indescribable

I just... wow. Wow. It's been two hours since the game ended and it's only now that I can finally put my thoughts into any sort of semantic cohesion. It's only now I've finally settled down enough to write about what may be the best moment of my baseball life. Screw all the ESPN pricks who think that a team from New York is a vital ingredient for a good Series and that the Tigers were going to take out the Cardinals in "three." Screw 'em. Screw anybody who doesn't believe that any Fall Classic, ever, isn't well, a Classic. And above all, o ye of Redbird loving persuasion, be thou glad.

As you may have guessed by now, the St. Louis Cardinals are the World Champions. It's just starting to sink it. Did I think they were going to do it? Not really, no. I wanted them to. I thought they'd put up a fight. And then....it's like Christmas.

So I lied. I didn't watch the game. I was dying. Rocking back and forth and hyperventilating and feeling like I was about to expire. Then my phone rang. I'd left it on for this very necessity. My hands started to shake and I couldn't fumble it out of its case.

It was my sister. She said, "Your St. Louis Cardinals are the 2006 World Champions."

I screamed. Loudly. Then I began to shake even more and laugh and say, "OH MY GOD," in this wild, giddy voice over and over. I rocked back and forth and then I cried and talked to her and called my family, who were a) lucky and b) brave enough to watch the proceedings as they unfolded. They nearly died during the ninth, as I might have (my baby put two men on before ending it with a strikeout... my God, Busch III went berserk).

It gives me chills just thinking about it. Now... the offseason. Wow. No baseball. Ouch. I must fill the void with a constant succession of baseball movies recommended by a friend of mine, and I'm going to start tomorrow night (well, technically, tonight, as it's 1:47 AM) with Bull Durham. Should be fun. "He's having trouble breathing out of his left eyelid."

One week until my family comes. That's going to be awesome. But.... wow. WOW. If you'd told me this as I was suffering through their third losing streak of seven games or more, I would have swatted you aside and told you mournfully not to tease me like that.

I can't wait to see the World Champion Cardinals on May 28-31 at Coors Field in lovely Denver, Colorado. You can bet that I will be there, in any assortment of:

a) an Adam Wainwright T-shirt
b) a Chris Carpenter T-shirt
c) a Cardinals National League Champs shirt (should they ever ship it)
d) a Cardinals World Series Champs shirt (ditto)

I love the Cardinals so much that it hurts. My heart is raw and overflowing. And the Church of Baseball is the only one I worship. Because this is more than a game to me. It's everything. And tonight was the pinnacle of ecstasy. I've been down to the dumps before. I've cried in pain instead of happiness. But tonight reminded me why I'm in this mofo for the long haul.

St. Louis Cardinals, all my love to you and you can bet there was at least one fan in Bronxville, New York, screaming her heart out with pure, true, delirious happiness. You guys are the champs. Drink that champagne. Savor it. You earned every inch.

I love you guys. Goodbye and good night for 2006, and when you pull up the curtain for 2007, I'll be there to adore you every step of the way.

Game 5 Pregame Good Luck Vibes Post

Okay, so it's approximately three hours before Game 5 starts and I'm as nervous as hell. I know that I promised to watch, and if the boys in red take their tenth World Championship, HELL YES I want to be there to watch it if even only electronically, but my nerves are shot and frazzled. I know that we have a good chance - the Tigers are demoralized and Jim Leyland is inexplicably NOT pitching Kenny!Cheater!Rogers, but rather Justin Verlander, who the Cardinals beat like the proverbial red-headed stepchild in Game 1.

Opposing him is the mercurial Jeff Weaver. Dunno how I feel about this. I'd feel more comfortable with Reyes, but Reyes is also capable of turning in a total turd after he's authored a gem. Weaver didn't do badly in Game 2, but seemed to be living on the edge a bit much. Of course, any pitcher can become someone transcendent with the might of 46,000 screaming red-clad Redbird red-blooded red-hot fans behind him. Busch III is going to be rocking. Dammit. One of those games that it would be absolutely MAGICAL to be at. Why, oh why didn't I go to, say, Washington and Lee?! ;)

I'm re-writing an article for my school newspaper that assumes the Cards win it. I feel sort of weird. They really need to win it, or I'm going to have to annoy my editor and stall for time to see if the Cardinals can pull it off in six. I'd rather not. I want the Cardinals to do this bitch at home. And I also don't want to piss off the Sports Editor, who happens to be my friend and probably would be moderately cool with it, but as I'm still a rookie journalist, best not to irritate authority.

Gah. Although I'm going to go into deep mourning when the season ends, as I hope it does tonight, my nerves just need a break. By December or January, I'll be slobbering and cross-eyed and whimpering and desperate for baseball, but it's a bit of a relief from the grind of caring so much and feeling either so ecstatic or so utterly miserable. Well, baseball is my love and my religion, heh, so that's what it does to me.

Okay, everyone, say it with me....

GO ST. LOUIS CARDINALS!!!!!

P.S. Yes, the color change is temporary. It'll go back to normal after you-know-what.

Playoffs, Day 13: An Ode to Adam

Having been bombarded by bad bloggery and putrid photoshoppping, prepare yourself for the advent of VILE VERSE!

(And yes, you've figured out that my date headers are in no way relative to the actual days of the playoffs, just when I remember to blog about them).

Curveball buckling at the knees
Go ahead and swing, but hit it? Please!
You are gone, bitch, gone wit'out a fight
You don't know who it is; it's ADAM WAINWRIGHT

Man stands six-foot-seven, he's as skinny as a pole
Stop talkin' about hittin' him; yeah, shut your damn hole
He's going to wind up and put that Yellow Hammer in there
Stand up there if you want, even swing the bat if you dare.

We got him from Atlanta and we snagged him for a song
(Remember J.D. Drew? We're glad that he's gone)
It's just a beautiful sight when the man in number fifty
Comes out there and does his thing; he's really kinda nifty.

You may have noticed that I have a total Adam obsession
I can't go without mentioning him each blogging session
That's because the man is amazing, and also hot as hell
If he'd just wear his socks like Anthony Reyes, all would be well.

The World Series has come down to this mind-bending fact:
The Cardinals have easily fended off the Tigers' "attack"
And after the heroics of Runt Eckstein and Adam my man
The "scrappy underdog Cardinals" are the "Cardinals who can."

If tomorrow comes and Jeff Weaver does not do very badly
Every Redbird fan will explode from their chair and shout very gladly
For we would have nailed down championship twice-five
The last time they did it, I wasn't even alive.

So all I can do at this point is to cheer and to cheer
And hold my breath tightly as the moment draws near
I'd say that I'm turning blue, but that isn't quite true
As a matter of fact instead I'm turning a lovely shade of RED!

GO CARDINALS!!!!!

Playoffs, Day 10/11/12: Much Yayness/Doodoogate/CHRISGASM

Okay, so it's a lump update since I'm lazy. Either that or I was trying to write two essays, one for history and one for philosophy, and having to resort to yanking the Ethernet cable so I wasn't tempted to get on the 'Net and procrastinate. I did finish the philosophy essay, mostly there on history. They seem to be good at first glance, but I can't shake the feeling that I am just refining myself as a bullshit artist. Thus far, however, in my experience at community college at any rate, how much I like the papers seems to be inversely proportional to how much my professors do. Therefore, I guess that if I think the current batch is crap, my professors will eat them up. Eew. That sounded so wrong.

It is a little over a week until I get to see my family. I really cannot wait.

Now. Onto the mass update. It covers, as you can probably tell, the first three games of the Fall Classic. The Cardinals won the first one 7-2 on the back of eight dominant innings by Flat-Hat, High-Sock Anthony Reyes, who I wish would make the other Cards copy his look because I love the high socks and Adam would look even more dreamy in them then he does already. The rest of it... I could do without. Reyes is as fugly as hell, but seeing as he is my team's Game 5 starter, I will refrain from talking too much smack about him. Hell, if Suppan does well in 4 and Reyes locks it down in 5... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The Tigers won Game 2, behind what is rapidly turning into a controversy the size of the George Brett pine tar incident, except that wasn't in the World Series. Doodoogate, as I like to call it, involved a certain suspicious-looking smudge on the hand of one aging pitcher that, until now, had been a postseason washout...

Take a look for yourself, if you can bear the pain of having Kenny Rogers' hideous mug foisted electronically onto yours. Then compare the two shots that follow.

Kenny Rogers' mug. Note hand.


On the left: Rogers' hand from ALCS Game 3 against the A's. (I'll shed a tear for my boys, who I wish were at the big dance, but the Cards have taken so much of the pain away, it isn't even funny). On the right: Rogers' hand in World Series Game 2. And I'm sure, Kenny, that the same smudge of "dirt" got there twice, in the same spot, without you knowing. Uh---huhhhh.

Of course, after the umpires (rightly) made him wash it off, he kept the Cardinals off balance all night. But if LaRussa pressed the issue - which he didn't, for whatever reason - he could have had Rogers ejected immediately and the Kitties' starting rotation massively fucked in the event of extra games to seal the deal. I'm curious as to why he didn't.

Either way, Kenny Rogers is still a douchebag.

As for Game 3, well, the only reason that people came sprinting out to the mound to examine Chris Carpenter's hand was in the seventh inning of a dominant performance from the Redbird ace, after he complained of having a cramp. There was no scuff or smear on that masterly palm, assure you me, and it did not stop Carp from finishing out eight innings of blemish-free work, permitting only three hits. He also allowed no walks and didn't even get to a three-ball count on a batter. On his first appearance on the World Series stage, Carp was his usual brilliant self. (He missed the '04 postseason with a bicep injury, which is just as well since the Cards disappeared in the World Series anyway). What a way to debut in baseball's biggest spotlight. Braden Looper, a pitcher who causes all of the Cardinals faithful to pop a handful of antacids, finished it off with a relatively uneventful ninth, and the boys in red took a 2-1 edge.

I came into the Series with the conviction that the Tigers were probably going to win it, but it may not be easy. I'm slowly starting to shift. I want desperately to believe that my beloved Cardinals can do it, but I'm trying to stay realistic. Well, reality is that if NLCS MVP Jeff Suppan follows up Carp's masterpiece tomorrow night, the team that everyone expected to "lose in three" according to certain smug self-confident sportswriters, will in fact have a 3-1 lead and possibly, possibly be in position to capture a tenth World Championship at home.

But that's really getting ahead of myself. There's a world of difference between 3-1 and 2-2, and the latter is still entirely probable if Suppan gets on his knees and blows the game tomorrow, which he may or may not do. (Obviously, I hope not). But if it is....

The thing is, these Cardinals are playing like a championship team. They're getting outstanding pitching (even in the game that they lost, they only surrendered three runs) they're getting contributions up and down the order, and they're not the one making the stupid mistakes. Such as tonight, when Albert Pujols hit an easy, dinking grounder back to Joel Zumaya, and instead of going for the double play at second, he opted instead to throw it to third - despite the fact that a 1-5-3 DP in the World Series hasn't been turned since 1923. Zumaya possibly showed why, as his throw went into foul ground and the Cardinals added two runs to their lead.

The Cards have completely muffled the heart of the Detroit order, and, well, the Tigers just look rusty. Thus, while I'm still cautious, I'm getting warmed up to the idea that this Hunt for Red October might end in fruition.

But that's just my take after tonight. It will be appropriately more optimistic or dispirited after the results of tomorrow night. If they win, then you can bet your ass that I am watching Game 5 to see my boys clinch. If they lose, it's back to the religious avoidance of anything baseball-related while online. I'm really bad with pressure, and cannot take the pain of actually watching the game... so I'm a wimp. But I will watch Game 5. But only if the Cardinals win.

I feel like I have schizophrenia. My "optimistic" and "there's no way they can actually do this" sides are warring. I should probably go to bed anyway, as classes (depressingly) resume tomorrow after I had the first two days of the week off, which was a good thing because of those freaking aforementioned essays. Guh... wish me luck, I'm gonna need it...


GO CARDINALS!!!!

Playoffs, Day 9: OH. MY. GOD.

[swoon]

[faint]

[thud]

Okay. So. I love my Cardinals dearly, but my heart just can't take the pressure of watching a Game 7 after Chris Carpenter did his damndest but Braden Looper blew it last night in an agonizing Game 6, forcing the series to the limit. Game 7s are good for baseball. NOT for my nerves.

So I didn't look at a single baseball-related site all day long. Not one. Except for the Rockies blog, which is lightly trafficked and where I might be less likely to see if they were losing. That was it. I stayed utterly away until 11:30. Then my cell phone rang. I saw it was my sister. I thought, "OH MY GOD WHY IS SHE CALLING I THINK I KNOW..."

I picked up. She said, "Do you want to know?" I said, "YES." She said, "They won."

I went apeshit. I screamed and began to shake and began to babble and laugh in incoherent happiness. I felt like a million dollars. I was pure light and happiness and joy. I was trembling all over and ecstatic. It was an amazing feeling.

And yes. HELL. YES. Jeff Suppan and Oliver Perez duel, keeping it tied at one all the way until the ninth. Scott Rolen is robbed of a two-run homer in the sixth. (As you can see, I came up to speed very quickly). And then in the top of the ninth, Yadier Freakin' Molina pumps a two-run homer to shut Shea Stadium up very quickly. It starts coming back to life in the bottom of the ninth. My husband gets two outs, but also permits two baserunners. Then he walks Paul LoDuca to bring up Cardinals murderer, Carlos Beltran.

What does my husband do? He strikes him out. HE STRIKES OUT CARLOS MOTHERFUCKING BELTRAN. On three straight pitches. LOOKING. And the Cardinals are on their way to the 2006 World Series. I bought an NL champs shirt pronto. I spend too much money on my teams, but you'd better believe that I love them to death.

Everybody. EVERYBODY thought that the Mets were going to wipe their shoes on the Cardinals. What do the Cardinals do but WIN IN SEVEN GAMES. And now they're on their way to face the other team that no one thought would make it out of the first round, for an All-Underdog World Series.

If you see a girl walking around SLC tomorrow, wearing an Adam Wainwright T-shirt and a giant smile, that's me. *

* Of course I'll be wearing something else as well. You people and your perverted minds.

Presenting Your 2006 National League Champions:

THE SAINT LOUIS CARDINALS.

I'm so happy right now... I can't even tell you how it feels.