Mr. Buck, please forgive Angie

In looking back at 2006 and the year it was, today’s early post will look back at number 68 on the countdown of the 100 things, people, sayings, moments, and trends that made 2006 a year to remember.

In Cardinal Nation, one thing is a very known fact.

The women of the Nation are 80% versed on the basics of St. Louis Cardinals history.

They know that Harry Caray was once announcer for the Cardinals from the mid-1940’s to 1969, fifteen years before I was born.

They know who Jack Buck is, who Ozzie Smith is, what “Whiteyball” means, the reason why Willie McGhee’s number should be retired, and most importantly, who Jack Buck is.

Emphasis on that final point.

Before the season started, I ended up purchasing a book in the Backstop Baseball Emporium aptly called Remembering Jack Buck, which was a collection of stories about Mr. Buck and his career.

Given the fact that I normally got bored after doing everything that I had to do at my job, I figured three weeks after buying the book, I would pack the book in my backpack as I went to my classes for the day and read it during my down time at school or even at work.

One of those days that I brought the book with me to school to read was when I tried to explain to Angie who Joe Buck was.

“He’s Jack Buck’s son,” I said to her as I handed her the book.

Now mind you, the book on Jack Buck had some wonderful pictures of Jack Buck and his family and knowing that Angie was an Early Childhood Development major, I figured she would be able to identify who Joe Buck was.

“He was married twice,” I said to her, “He had six children from his first marriage and two from his second marriage.”

She looked at a picture that was taken in 1966 with Mr. Buck and his children and tried to point out which one was Joe.

“Joe wasn’t born until 1969,” I said, “You’ll have to look for a much current picture of Mr. Buck and his family.”

We turned to a picture that was taken three years before his death at his 75th birthday party with all of his children (including Joe).

“That’s Joe,” she said pointing to a guy that was third in the row below the one with Joe Buck.

“No it’s not,” I said to Angela as I tried desparately to explain who Joe Buck was.

“Okay, these were from his first marriage,” she said as she pointed to several of Jack Buck’s children.

She got to Joe and said to me, “First marriage.”

“No,” I said, “Second marriage. He was born in 1969.”

After five minutes of irrevelant arguing, I figured that God could forgive Angela for not getting the children of Jack Buck correct.

I kinda figured Jack Buck saying to God, “Father forgive her, for she’s not a Cardinals fan like this young man is.”

And God said, “I will by sending her a Scott Rolen jersey.”

Spiezio, the chocolate cutie, and the dash

September 29th began like any other day in Memphis, with the exception of the always omnipresent heat that you have to deal with even in late September.

I had planned on going down to Midtown to help out at Food Not Bombs and fight through the traffic that was very congested through the area bounded by South Hollywood on the west, Southern Avenue on the north, East Parkway South on the east, and Central Avenue on the south because of the UT-Memphis game, which seemed to be a bigger challenge than hitting a fastball thrown by Chris Carpenter.

While I was getting prepared to leave, I cut on my Webshots screensaver of all of the pictures that I had of all my (mainly female) friends.

Now remember, this was five minutes prior to the Cardinals-Brewers game starting with Jeff Suppan going to the mound.

When I cut on the screensaver, the first picture that the screensaver showed was the picture that set off the cutest story in the history of Memphis professional baseball.

And the most famous home run call in Redbirds history.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said to myself as I shut down the computer and headed out the door.

Everyone at Galloway knew how big of a Cardinals fan I was , but the only problem that I had was that the kitchen where we prepared the food had no radio nor tv to see what was going on in St. Louis.

By 2:30, I had not gotten any word on the game situation in St. Louis, so I cut my serving time short over at Food Not Bombs and raced down Second Street to my second favorite hangout, the Bigfoot Lounge to grab a burger.

Once I got there, I sat at the bar and ordered a drink and saw the score in St. Louis.

2-0 Milwaukee.

Bottom of the eighth inning.

A couple that were in town for the Memphis-Tennessee game and I talked about SEC football and the game in St. Louis while Scott Spiezio came to the plate.

“You think they’re going to pull it out?,” I asked the guy that was sitting next to me as I took a large bite out of my burger.

“They might,” he replied to me as I looked at the television.

Whenever I got nervous about something, I would always cup my hands and blow through them (which happened a lot of times whenever I did a broadcast during the season at Autozone Park).

But with Spiezio at the plate and bases loaded, I didn’t really think that seeing the picture that began the cutest story in the history of Memphis professional baseball prior to leaving for Cooper-Young to help out at Food Not Bombs was going to mean anything.

That’s when it happened.

Spiezio hits a line drive to the right-field corner, which seemed to me to be a guaranteed double that would at least tie the game.

But the way that Spiezio hit it, I thought differently about the score.

As I cheered Spiezio to get to third, I kept thinking to myself, was the picture that set off the cutest story ever told in Memphis professional baseball history an omen to what was going to happen when the eighth inning came around?

Not really.

In the ninth inning with the tying run on second, Adam Wainwright struck out Mike Rivera (who was the first batter in that ninth inning on July 4th) to shrink the Cardinals’ magic number down to one.

Later that night, I ended up seeing the picture once again as I turned on the screensaver and played “Marion’s Theme”, which was a tune that I played after every Cardinals or Redbirds victory.

And went to bed smiling.

Thank you, Kasi, thank you

Over a year ago, I began talking to my friend Kasi, who is the girl that I’ve mentioned in my columns throughout the playoffs.

Of course, I’m not trying to give you a Sleepless in Seattle story, but the way that I’m writing this column, it seems like it is one of those stories.
Last year, I had written a column about the summer of 2005,the summer of D-Lee and Kasi, right during the time that the Cardinals were running away with the National League Central and I was starting as an announcer for the Redbirds and also writing a column about humorous observations that I saw when I was with my friends or anywhere in the city.

But between that, I started inputting my knowledge of baseball whenever I talked to her, talking about St. Louis, Jack Buck, and my beloved Cardinals.

Unlike this postseason, the way it was at this time last year was not the way it is now.

I was looking forward to hanging out with her (as I stated in my post on October 21st) when I went to Nashville with my job for a service project  last October, when I believed that our friendship, was for the most part, peachy keechy.

Unfortunately, a day after Mr. Pujols hits a homer that sucked the life out of the city of Houston, the Astros would win the pennant and the day after that, the crap would hit the fan.

Apparently, the end of 2005 left me on the verge of losing a friend because of my selfish ways and leaving a very bad taste in my mouth.

Reset.

In March, we started back talking over instant messaging and of course, I explained my actions before and put it behind me.

Of course, she and I myself knew that I was going to revert to talking about baseball once the Cardinals’ season began in April.

But for the most part, that did not happen.

Until the Cardinals got into League Championship Series, I tried to keep away from talking about the Cardinals and Jack Buck and all things St. Louis.

That’s when I fell off the wagon of doing that when the Cardinals were on the verge of winning the pennant.

Three nights before they won, I told her that our friendship is more important than a silly baseball game.

If the Cardinals lose a game, does Albert Pujols or Scott Rolen start thinking about jumping off the old Eads Bridge or the Gateway Arch?

No.

Of course, given from what she knew from last year, she knew that I lived and died with the Cardinals.

The night that the Cardinals won the pennant, I made a promise to her that the Cardinals would win the pennant just for her.

Which in fact did happen.

During Game 4 on last Thursday, I had kept tabs on the score and would report it to her.

At one point in the game, the Cardinals were trailing 3-2 to the Tigers when all of a sudden she was telling me that she was going to rub her belly to get them the lead.

And for some reason, that worked.

The Cardinals got two runs in the bottom of the seventh to take the lead.

Then the Tigers got a run to tie the game in the top of the eighth inning, which was when I told her the score again.

And the cue to start belly rubbin’.

Bottom of the eighth inning, the Cardinals took the lead for good and won Game 4 thanks in part to David Eckstein’s double off Craig Monroe’s glove.

Which set the tone for Friday.

For the first time in 24 years and in my lifetime, the St. Louis Cardinals are World Champions.

And the best thing about seeing that happen was that I was able to share it with a person that I care about.

And the only person that has patience with me during the baseball season.

I know personally this isn’t my best work because I have been away from my computer for three days, but what the point that I’m trying to make is that I’ve enjoyed sharing my wisdom about baseball with her, even though she still probably won’t understand it.

And most importantly, the month of October.

Again, thank you, Kasi.

Thank you.

Belly rubbin’ to victory

Had Wednesday’s rainout not happened and the Cardinals won on Wednesday, I would probably be writing about an improbable World Series championship for the Birds on a Bat today.

But thanks to Mother Nature, I’m not doing that today.

Instead of traveling back to Detroit for Game 6, the Cardinals (which played five games in five days) will go for their first World Series title since 1982 tonight in St. Louis, which was where they clinched their 9th World Series title with Bruce Sutter striking out Gorman Thomas to win the World Series.

And the first World Series championship that I’ve seen in my lifetime.

The funny thing about this, is that last night I was talking to my friend Kasi (who I believe is the only friend that I know that can deal with me during baseball season) and the Cardinals were trailing the Tigers in the bottom of the seventh inning when she said to me that she was going to start belly rubbing in order to possibly get the Cardinals the lead.

Which actually worked because the Cardinals would tie the game at 3 in the bottom of the seventh and actually would take the lead to make the score 4-3.

In the top of the eighth, Brandon Inge hits a double that scores Pudge Rodriguez to tie the game again at 4.

That’s when I sent Kasi another message about the score in St. Louis.

She responded by saying it was time for her to start rubbin’ again when the Cardinals came to the plate in the bottom of the eighth inning.

At first when David Eckstein hit what is normally a routine fly ball, I figured that Craig Monroe would make yet another amazing catch in the outfield to save the Cardinals a run in the bottom of the eighth, but he would have to react fast in order to make the catch.

Given the fact that I once played in the outfield when I played baseball, the first thing I learned was that you have to be alert at all times when a pop fly comes your way.

That’s when Monroe let the ball get away from him and allowed the Cardinals to take the lead and later on, the victory.

I sent Kasi a message after the game was over and told her that her belly rubbin’ ritual seemed to work out in the Cardinals’ favor in Game 4.

And put the Cardinals one win away from stomping the so-called Curse of the Aquarius Girl into the ground.

Or Keith Hernadez.

Which ever you prefer.

Damn, another rainout

Game 4 was rained out tonight in St. Louis (no surprise, it was raining here in Memphis) so the Cardinals and the Tigers will go at it tomorrow night in St. Louis.

The weather will hopefully cooperate and Kasi continue to get her education on all things Cardinals, which I am doing now over instant messaging.

Miss Kasi, you got your gift

Okay, before I begin, I should say this.

I don’t like guaranteeing things because I know how it always end for me or in this case, my favorite teams.

During last night’s Game 7, I was talking to Kasi (notice the recurring theme here) for most of the night about various things and keeping her up-to-date on what was happening in New York City.

For some reason, after talking to her about the brick-oven, thin-crusted pizza that my friend Tom had when I went over to his house and watched (no, I was focused more on the action in Game 6) 16 Blocks with the rest of the guys , I ended up saying that the Cardinals were going to win the pennant just for her.

That’s when I said to myself, “It’s all about to come crashing down now.”

That was right before Scott Rolen threw the ball into the seats and I explained to her that he was the third baseman and he doesn’t do that very often.

Instead of giving her the play-by-play, I just listened to her problems and was kinda praying that the Cardinals or Mets would score so I could interrupt her and give her the latest score.

Which didn’t happen.

Before the eighth inning was over, she told me that she was going to let her sister get on the computer.

My friend in Chattanooga, the one who had their fingers crossed, and I was talking at the same time when Yader Molina hit that homer off Rick Heilman in the ninth to give the Cardinals the lead and possibly the pennant.

In a behavior that is normally found in those sad Chicago Cub fans, I found myself counting the outs in the bottom of the ninth inning and praying with my friend in Chattanooga that the made-up curse that I came up with during the last weeks of the regular season was ready to show up again.

Jose Valentin and Endy Chavez both got hits to start the bottom of the ninth.

Cliff Floyd strikes out looking. Two outs to go.

Around that same time, I made calls to my therapist Dr. Chris, Tracy, and my big sister Krystal and gave them the score.

Jose Reyes lines out to Edmonds. One out to go.

Paul LoDuca draws a walk to load the bases and that’s when the ghost of this past summer made a visit (please committ me to a crazy house).

This coming during the time that Carlos (Expletive) Beltran came to the plate.

With my hands shaking because I was really nervous about the Cardinals’ chances in the bottom of the ninth, I kept sending my friend pitch-by-pitch accounts.

Ball one. Strike one.

Ball one. Strike two.

Wainwright delivers the pitch.

Strike three call.

And the magical season that it’s been so far this season continued for me and most importantly, the Cardinals.

Thirty minutes after I calmed down, I sent Kasi a message that read:

“hey boo i just wanted to let you know that ur gift has been delivered by the 2006 NATIONAL LEAGUE CHAMPIONS ST. LOUIS CARDINALS and if you get this message, just remember that i love you and GO CARDS!!!!!!!!“

Before I wrote this morning’s post, I talked to Kasi briefly and asked her did she get the message.

Her response?

“Yea.”

Game 7 play-by-play (Part 2)

Suppan’s looking good out on the mound for the Cardinals as the game goes into the fifth inning.

In the bottom of the fourth, a pitch by Suppan to Jose Valentin jumped up and hit him in the chin.

8:37 p.m.-Belliard hits a single to left-field. Jeff Suppan is at the plate. UPDATE-8:38 p.m. (Suppan moves Belliard to first on a sacrifice bunt).

That pennant is comin’ Miss Kasi.

Game 7 play-by-play

7:05 p.m.-Kasi just sent me a message. She’s had a long day.

7:12 p.m.-My friend Nichole just crossed her fingers in Chattanooga, so she’s doing pretty much the same thing that everybody in the Cardinal Nation is doing

First Inning
7:17 p.m.-Eckstein hits pop fly to right-center

7:19 p.m.-Spiezio strikes out looking.

7:20 p.m.-Delgado drops a routine fly ball that grants Pujols second base.

7:22 p.m.-Encarncion pops up to right field, leaving Pujols on second to end the inning for the Cardinals.

7:23 p.m.-Kasi just sent me a message about her sister.

7:26 p.m.-Jose Reyes hits grounder to short.

7:27 p.m.-LoDuca hit grounder to third.

7:28 p.m.-Kasi now is telling me that she realizes that she wants to live alone. Who doesn’t?

7:30 p.m.-Beltran hits a double to left-field.

7:34 p.m.-Delgado walks. David Wright (guy was on my Fantasy Baseball team) is at the plate.

7:35 p.m.-Wright hits a single scoring Beltran. Runners are at first and third.

7:36 p.m.-Green hits a smash to Rolen to get the Mets out of the inning.

Blue Balls 1 Cardinals 0

Second Inning

7:40 p.m.-Edmonds hits a single to rightfield. Scott Rolen is at the plate.

7:41 p.m.-Rolen popped up to center-field.

7:44 p.m.-Molina hits a flare to left-field, moving Edmonds to third because of a misplay by Reyes.

7:45 p.m.-Belliard scores Edmonds with a safety squeeze. And Kasi is now wishing like many of those listeners in Cardinal Nation when Mike Shannon talks about the full moon in New York City that she was here in town to share the pizza I had with my friends out in Cordova.

7:47 p.m. Suppan strikes out to end the Cardinals’ half of the second inning.

7:50 p.m.-Kasi is not believing me when I tell her that the pizza I had on last night was as big as a rug. Valentin pops out to Encarncion, who snags it from Belliard.

7:52 p.m.-Chavez hits a grounder to first.

7:53-Perez hits a popup to left field. Mets go down in order.

Cardinals 1 Blue Balls 1

Third Inning

7:57 p.m.-Eckstein hits a double that got inside the foul line for the Cardinals’ first extra-base hit of the night.

7:59 p.m.-Wilson strikes out for the first out of the top of the third.

8:03-Perez walked Pujols like a sissy. Encarncion hits into an inning-ending double play.

Now it’s the Curse of the Aquarius Girl vs. Cardinals

You’ve been through this before, Cardinal fans.

Game 7.

One game.

Win or go home.

Step your game up or fold like a bad hand in poker.

Scott Rolen, please cut out the crybaby crap.

No one’s buying it these days in the Cardinal Nation.

We thought for certain that the Cardinals would clinch on Wednesday night when the NLCS moved back to Shea Stadium.

Chris Carpenter was on the mound.

Some scrub whose last name is the same as a state up North was on the mound for the Mets and even had a better ERA than Carpenter.

So you knew that there was going to be a wild celebration in St. Louis on Wednesday night.

Wrong.

I myself had figured that the Mets were not going to lay down easily and come out swinging.

Which they did on Wednesday.

Now Cardinal fans, it’s time to sit at the edge of the seat.

Big Apple vs. the Gateway City.

Suppan vs. Perez.

And a possibilty that the ghost of that Aquarius girl who put a curse on
the Cardinals back in 2005 could reappear again in front of Scott Rolen or David
Eckstein.

Hopefully that will stay away from the confines of Shea Stadium.

I’ll be liveblogging Game 7 tonight, so look for up-to-date scoring reports throughout the evening.

Go Cards!!!!!

She’s still waiting for them to choke

A few minutes ago, I had an interesting conversation with a friend who happens to be a Cubs fan and I proudly said that the Cardinals are one win away from the 18th pennant in franchise history.

Of course, I tried to explain that unlike her, I’ve seen the Cardinals win a pennant in my lifetime (heck, they’ve won three pennants in my lifetime) and the Cubs have done nothing but choke year in and year out.

The funny thing about it, is that she lives in southern Illinois, which is Cardinal country all the way and five hours away from Chicago and three hours away from St. Louis.

And oddly enough, the same city where I spent a few months going to school after graduating from high school in 2003.

When the Cubs were looking for their new manager, I said to her that she ought to apply for the job and maybe whip Kerry Wood into shape, something that Dusty Baker couldn’t do in his three years in Chicago.

Only one condition.

I would have to convert into a Cubs fan.

The last time I talked to her, it was right before Game 1 of the NLCS and I gave her the score when the game went into the seventh inning.

And she was about ecstatic as I was when Gary Bennett hit that grand slam against the Cubs on August 27th.

A few minutes ago, I said to her that the Cardinals are one game away from the pennant.

And I asked her was she still waiting on them to choke.

Her response?

“Yeap.”

Poor thing.