(STLToday.com)
That’s actually not too bad looking. It’s not overly tacky as far as championship rings go. Probably the best part about it is what Bill DeWitt had to say:
We wanted to fit the modern player and still have that bling factor.
“Bling factor.” As the kids say, of course.
My friend and colleague Tana was lucky enough to have gotten to go to Friday’s Game 5 clincher. When she told me she was going, I can honestly tell you that I felt no jealousy toward her. I was just happy someone I knew was going. OK, maybe I was a little bit jealous, but it’s still awesome that she got to go. This is her story:
When my husband told me Tuesday that he (and his boss and not me) had been given two tickets for Game 4, I could not have imagined, even remotely, the scenario that resulted in me being at Busch Stadium seeing the Cards win the World Series.
Despite me cursing my husband to my co-workers (loudly and often) and a few threats of divorce, my husband and his boss (and not me) went down to St. Louis for the originally scheduled Game 4, where, of course, their chances of seeing a game dwindled with each raindrop. I felt a little ashamed about secretly confiscating all the umbrellas, but my jealousy was karmatically replaced by disappointment when the game was cancelled. I apologized to Dave and refocused my energy on hoping the weather would allow the Cards to play their home-field games and finish the series without having to go back to Detroit.
After a night in the rain, my husband’s boss decided he was “too old to sit in the rain again” and told Dave he was giving his ticket to me. Gaah!
And with a win that night, there was a chance our “Game 4” tickets would be ones for a clincher. Gaah!
So, after work Friday, we sped down to St. Louis. The feeling around the city was just electric. As we parked and made our way to the stadium, we exchanged “We’re really gonna win this thing!” glances with every fan we met. We arrived at Busch in just enough time to get the traditional hot dogs and nachos before the national anthem. The place was a bundle of energy just waiting for a spark, and all of us in the stands collectively held our breath as Weaver threw the first strike.
The celebration was equivalent to Pujols hitting a homer. I realized at that moment that although I’ve seen perhaps two dozen games at Busch – including the one where McGwire tied the record – this one was going to be a whole different experience. No one in our section (23 rows behind third base) sat down until the inning break, and the cheering – never half-hearted – was continuous. We had a “cheerleader” at the end of the row in front of us (you know, some spunky guy who always goes hoarse starting “Let’s-go Card-nals” chants), and we all went hoarse with him, yelling our support at the top of our lungs.
We really felt like our fan outpouring was working as Weaver built up his Ks, knocking down Tigers one-two-three for two innings. He kept the same cool, collected routine with every pitch … hurl the ball, watch for the call, catch the return, pace to the back of the mound, blow on his hand, set for the next pitch, repeat. He looked like he easily could have done it all night.
Then, in the third, a hit went right at him. Without thought, he caught it and tossed it to Rolen, who chased Inge back to second.
“Catch him!” I hollered. He did, and we in the stands went absolutely crazy. I’m certain stadium’s structure was physically vibrating with our cheering.
Everyone around us agreed the night was Weaver’s night. Between innings, the big screen showed signs: “Leave it to Weaver,” “Dream Weaver,” “Weave us a win,” etc.
But in the fourth, Duncan erred, letting a Tiger on base. It was like a disturbance in the force. Casey’s homer right afterward resulted in the first quiet I’d heard at the stadium. Dozens of Tigers fans, including the father-son pair next to us, applauded as their team took the lead. The other tens of thousands of us had nothing to say.
After allowing Casey his small piece of glory, the cheerleader started, loud as he could: “Let’s-go Card-nals!” Soon, the whole stadium was, once again, fully behind Weaver, confident he would get us out of this mess. Two quick batters later, he did. We paid homage: “Wea-ver! Wea-ver! Wea-ver!”
When the Cards came back with two runs, seats became a thing of the past. Who could sit through a game like this? During the next few at bats, a few of us in the row said how nice it would be to get a “safety” run and have a “cushion,” but we were just glad the Cards were up even by one.
For the next inning or so, we kept up the everything’s-like-a-home-run energy level. I thought our enthusiasm was at the max, but then Weaver snatched a would-be hit aimed at his head. Amid the deafening applause for our man Weaver, people around us taunted the Tigers fans next to us: “You wish your pitcher was as talented as ours.” It was the first real sign of animosity, but I think deep down, the dad Tigers fan agreed.
When Duncan was taken out, the buzz around the stadium was one of relief – the missed catches were too much of a risk. Even he admitted later it was the right decision.
More signs flashed on the big screen: “This would not be possible if I were a Cubs fan” and “Gas: $30, Tickets: $500, Seeing Game 5 with a Game 4 ticket: Priceless.”
The Cards did get that “safety” run in the seventh, and as the Tigers fans next to us turned their hats to the “rally” position, many of us looked at them as if to say “Yeah. That’s going to help.”
At last, it came down to it – the ninth inning. We weren’t going home without the win. We just weren’t. With the Tigers’ Polanco up to bat, the fans at Busch were all on edge, ready to explode.
“Lock it up!” I kept screaming at them, as if they didn’t know what to do.
They, in fact, did not lock it up, and Polanco walked, with the soft sound of disappointed “Oh”s filling the stadium.
But when Inge stepped up, the place again raged with cheers. Hoping I wasn’t jinxing anything, I pulled out my camera just in case celebration broke out.
It happened so fast. Wainwright got the K, and Cardinals players flooded the field in a huddle. Within seconds, confetti burst from the upper levels, and utter celebration broke out in the stands. Fireworks shot off from the big screen.
A yellow Corvette (to be given to Eckstein) was driven out, and a stage was set up for interviews. For an hour, it was non-stop celebration in between snippets of speeches from Pujols, La Russa, Edmonds, and, of course, Eck the MVP. They each thanked the fans profusely, which always resulted in renewed waves of applause.
Amid all this, our Tigers-fan friends somehow slipped away unnoticed.
We eventually left the stadium to go home and relieve our babysitters. The blocks surrounding Busch were wild with one big party, and we got high fives and shouts from everyone we passed on the way to the car and even while in the car inching toward the Interstate.
The whole string of events was truly surreal, but something I will look back on often and think how wonderful it was to be a part of the crowd that helped “oomph” the Cards to a World Series victory.
Oh, and something all fans who have been to Busch can appreciate: I snagged a towel sling-shot into the crowd by the Cardinals’ girls between innings! I rallied with my “special towel” the whole game, which, I am certain, helped get the win.
Back in September, not long after the Cardinals signed Preston Wilson, I wrote about what the signing meant for the team:
You heard it here first: St. Louis Cardinals, 2006 World Series champions. All thanks to P-Dub.
And Mookie.
My misguided attempt at humor actually proved to be right. Who knew? Er… I mean, I told you so, bitches!
After having a full day to sit back and comprehend what transpired Friday night, I still can’t fully comprehend it: World Series champions.
World. Series. Champions. Maybe if I say it enough times, it’ll start to sink in.
Given what had happened with the team the last six or so weeks of the season, it seems completely unfathomable that we won. The trends that were killing us late in the season completely flipped. Check it:
Because they won, no one’s going to remember that crap from the last few weeks of the season. No one’s going to remember…
Like I said, nobody’s gonna remember that crap. But it took all that bad stuff to make the World Series win that much sweeter. We went through a lot this summer as fans; this fall was the return on our emotional investment.
And what a return it was. Say it with me now:
World Series champions.
We won.
The Cardinals are 2006 World Series champions. I don’t have the words to adequately convey how great it felt to see those boys win. What a great run! What a great team! I’m just emotionally drained right now, so I’ll let someone else describe the Joy in Cardinal Nation. Enjoy the photos, especially the last one, and enjoy basking in the afterglow of being World Series champs. I said it again. And it felt damn good.
(Getty Images)
(The Associated Press)
(Getty)
(Morry Gash/AP)
Wednesday night during the rain delay, in order to focus on anything but the horror that was Fox’s “War at Home,”‘ I was running various scenarios through my little peabrain.
The one that sounded most appealing was that the Cardinals win Game 4 in a come-from-behind-late fashion and then ride the emotional high to beat fiercely about the head and shoulders whomever Jim Leyland trots out to start Game 5. Score a bunch of runs early, then get our man Sno Cones out for the last few innings to get him, Gary Bennett, his first taste of World Series playing time.
First part? Check.
In yet another fantastic, well-pitched World Series game, the Cards indeed came from behind once and went ahead again on a tie to take Game 4 in St. Louis. It’s a shame that nobody else is watching. They are missing some great baseball.
Other things I think:
Well, Cardinal Nation… just one more win. That’s all. The weather doesn’t appear especially friendly for today; here’s to hoping it clears.
Go Cards! Go beards!
Indeed it was. Eight innings of shutout ball, and he didn’t need to cheat to do it.
Two more wins, people. We can do this.
(Jamie Squire/Getty Images)
Sunday’s Game 2 was nothing we hadn’t seen all season: The Cardinals once again were stymied by a junk-balling lefthander. Yawn.
That same junk-balling lefty did inject a bit of intrigue early, though, as Fox cameras picked up some sort of brownish goo on the meat of Kenny Rogers’ left thumb.
Tim McCarver then leapt into action, breathlessly describing to viewers the thumb and what that goo could be, eventually hypothesizing that it was pine tar.
Tigers manager Jim Leyland thought that the Cardinals hitters mentioned something to Tony La Russa during the first inning:
I know Tony said, “Hey, I don’t want to make any issue here, but a couple of my players are saying that the ball is acting a little funny.” And obviously they were a little suspicious.
Indeed. La Russa conferred with the umpires after the top of the first, and Fox cameras showed Rogers in the dugout being talked to by various Tigers. When he returned to the mound for the top of the second, his left hand was mysteriously clean.
There’s no mistaking that Rogers was dominant in his eight innings Sunday, as he has been the entire postseason. But was he cheating? Well…
Let’s just say that it would be profoundly stupid to pull something like that on baseball’s biggest stage. Rule 8.02(a)(4) makes it pretty clear:
The pitcher shall not apply a foreign substance of any kind to the ball.
The penalty for such an act follows:
The pitcher shall be ejected immediately from the game and shall be suspended automatically for 10 games.
Like I said… it would be profoundly stupid for Kenny Rogers of the Detroit Tigers to apply a foreign substance to the ball during Game 2 of the 2006 World Series.
I’m glad I’m not the suspicious sort.
It’s likely that I’m the last person on Earth to learn this (I only recently found out that the Internet is on computers now), but your pal and mine, Dan of Get Up, Baby, has been added to the fold of AOL’s Sports Bloggers Live as a contributor to the AOL Sports World Series Blog.
Here’s how AOL puts it:
It’s a Tigers blogger — Bill from Detroit Tigers Weblog — vs. a Cardinals blogger — Dan from Get Up, Baby! — as Detroit and St. Louis play for the championship.
Let me be the first (as far as I know) to offer Dan a hearty congratulations for landing such a cool gig. Make Springfield proud, dude.
(The Associated Press)
I don’t want to sound all melodramatic nor put the (band)wagon before the (work)horse here, but we might have just seen the coming of age for our Anthony Reyes.
I thought starting Game 1 was a great situation for Reyes because the rook would be under little pressure. I don’t want to say he proved me right, but…
Actually, he did start out a little shaky, allowing a run on a couple of hits and a walk. But after that, the kid was straight-up money, setting down 17 straight at one point, by which it was much too late.
His control also was impeccable, throwing 67 of his 91 pitches for strikes and allowing only the first-inning walk, which sunk his start in the NLCS and several during the regular season.
But Reyes also had help from the ultra-agressive Tigers hitters. By my count, 10 of the Tigers’ 17 flyball outs were made on the first or second pitch of at-bats. Those quick at-bats are what kept Reyes’ pitch count down. During a bit of daydreaming Friday afternoon, I wondered whether the Tigers’ free-swinging ways might play into the strengths of the Cardinals’ pitch-to-contact staff. Saturday morning, LBoros confirmed my suspicions:
the tigers’ low obp (24th among the 30 mlb teams) and apparent lack of discipline plays into the hands of the cardinal hurlers.
Not that Reyes is your classic pitch-to-contact, um, pitcher, but this bodes well for the staff members who are. I also was sort of freaked out that I’d made the same observation that an expert had made.
A few other observations:
Today, it’s Jeff Weaver vs. Kenny Rogers. Make them pay for trading you, J-Dub.
(Charles Krupa/AP)
Friday night at work, a co-worker/Cubs fan tried messing with me saying he heard on the radio that he who shall not be named could be in line to start Game 1 of the World Series today. I laughed in his face.
Now, it’s official: Anthony Reyes will start.
Worried? Don’t be. Disregard his mediocre regular season. Throw out his crappy NLCS start. I think this is the perfect setup for the Reyes boy.
Does that make me crazy? Possibly. But think about it: There’s no pressure on the kid. Nobody expects the Cardinals to win, so he needn’t worry about the burden of high expectations. He can just go out there and deal.
Plus, he did pretty OK against that one American League team that had never seen him before.
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Jeff Weaver is in line to start Game 2 on Sunday.
He’s one of the several “story lines” that Fox will flog mercilessly. Once upon a time, he was considered a future ace by the Tigers, who ended up trading him in 2002 to the Yankees, a deal that eventually netted the Tigers their Game 4 starter, Jeremy Bonderman.
I don’t know the conditions under which he left Detroit back then. But it seems that today, Todd Jones has little regard for Weaver:
There’s no love lost here that he’s gone.
At least Weaver was an adult about it, basically ignoring Jones and expressing his happiness for his former teammates and the city of Detroit:
They were here for the worst of times, and now they get to see the best of times.
I’ve never been fond of trash-talk. At best, it’s juvenile. At worst, it’s disrespectful. But Todd Jones is the straight-shooting type. He’ll tell you how he feels, and I guess I have to respect him for that. It still doesn’t make it right.
Props to Weaver for not fanning the flames through the media. The best way to tell Jones to go scratch would be to shut down the Tigers in Game 2.
Then Jones might have a legitimate reason for saying there’s no love lost.
