One Night in Baseball Heaven - St. Louis, Missouri

I went to the World Series this week, for the first time. The St. Louis Cardinals are back.

Some years they come storming in like they own the National League and all other teams are mere pretenders. This was not that type of year. This year it was almost embarrassing how the Braves collapsed in September and the Cards finally got hot. When the the dust of summer finally settled at the end of 162 games, the Cardinals were the wild card team. The fans were thrilled, but surprised.

Even more surprising was the way they took care of the Phillies. Less so, how they put the Brewers away.

What all this meant to me was that last Thursday night I found myself in the middle of a long-time dream. When I was a kid the dream was of me playing in the World Series, with Mickey Mantle and Pee Wee Reese. As an adult it was simply one of being there. So pinch me, I'm in Busch Stadium with my son, my brother, my daughter-in-law, and its the World Series.

Our evening included the Budweiser Clydesdales, dogs, brats, peanuts, Lou Brock, Ozzie Smith, Stan Musial and Albert Pujols. The greatest coach in the game, Tony La Russa. The redeemed hitting coach, Mark McGwire. A beautiful ballpark with fans passionate about the game. Some of them, like me, had been following the Cards for decades. Others grew up with them, like Rob and Laura, and being at a game is ingrained in hundred of memories and some of their earliest ones.

Like any big sporting event it included a fair number of people who knew nothing about the game, but were simply there to lay claim to being at the event. Unfortunately I felt obligated to explain to them, particularly the brunette in the middle of our row, that you don't get out of your seat when the ball is in play. After all, this was the World Series and baseball protocol must be followed. I was wrong of course, this game was too big to limit to purists. My suggestions to neighboring fans was obviously more annoying to my family than the traffic flow in our aisle. Somewhere around the 5th inning I realized it and shut up.

I began following the Cardinals in college. I grew up in Florida miles away from a pro baseball team. But I went to college in Missouri, where baseball matters, and spent many night when I should have been studying listening to the Cardinals or the Royals. The last night of our honeymoon was spent in St. Louis, at a Cardinals game. Weird, I know, but it helped start this bond with the team. My second visit was about ten years later when we drove up from Arkansas on a family vacation and took Rachel and Rob to a game. She was eight and he was three. Two years later career opportunities moved us to St. Louis and our love affair with the game and this team went into full swing.

Over the years, usually in October, I often thought how wonderful it would be to attend a World Series, especially with my family and especially if the Cardinals were involved. The Rangers were never in those dreams but perhaps should have been. The first baseball game we took any of our children to was with Rachel and to see the Rangers around 1987. Rob was a baby. We left him behind and spent a weekend in Dallas that I'm sure included a lot of family events, zoos and the like. But the only one I remember is going to see the Rangers. Rachel got a free glove and we saw the "wild thing", Mitch Williams, pitch.

This week, when I sat down for the first pitch at Busch stadium, this flood of baseball memories just overwhelmed me. All of them good ones. Not a single one involved an argument, tears, or hurt feelings, like some family gatherings. They are all perfect. Rachel keeping score while adorned with peanut earrings, Rob with his cap turned backwards, Robin digging into a backpack for one more thing to keep a toddler occupied, Caroline with a lap full of nachos. All the kids at some point giving Fred Bird a high five. Waiting in line in the blazing heat for some giveaway trinket of the day. Our kids and their little league teams parading around the field. My dad waving his fist into the air as Todd Zeile hit a game winning homer against the Expos. Watching Ted Simmons hit two home runs against the Mets on June 22, 1979 with my new bride. 

On this night of the World Series, the Cardinals lost. The good thing is that the loss will soon be forgotten. Time will pass and the cold of that night will turn warmer. What will be remembered is being there, with family, and it will all be good. Specifically with my brother, my son, my daughter-in-law. But in my memories I was joined by the whole family, especially my children, and it's mid-July, hot as blazes, we're somewhere lost in the cheap seats, and the Cardinals are leading by three runs in the 9th.