The American League Is a Joke

Heh. Just wanted to write that.

Headed downtown to see if I can't scrape up a couple of tickets to the cold, wet, but playable game that could clinch the World Championship for the St. Louis Cardinals over the mighty Detroit Tigers. Will be watching the game regardless in the city, somewhere, probably in various places, at some point with my dad.

As you might recall, I attended game 4 with my game 5 tickets last night. The Cards got a win - a big win - and one more, even as sloppily charmed, will keep them from having to travel back to Detroit, where it is -294 with the wind chill and snowing Chinese stars and car batteries.

I met a girl named Maggie last night who liked the way I rhythmically banged on a Busch Stadium trashcan while Adam Wainwright went about getting five outs for the win. We had a lot of fun, and everybody celebrated afterward as if the Cardinals had indeed finished the thing, including my mom, a veteran of now four World Series since 1982 ('82, 1985, 1987, and 2006; she sold her 2004 tickets to Red Sox fans).

She knows 3-1 is not insurmountable - it was the same in 1968 against the Tigers, and in '87 against the Minnesota Twins, both eventual collapses for the Cards. By the way, those Twins are the worst team - by W-L record, of course - to emerge from a season as triumphant warriors of all. If the Cards do so tonight or during the next few days, they will avenge the '87 World Series by ... taking that honor from the Twins.

That's enough for me. This run is something else: I could be watching it in Houston, hell on Earth, and it would still be special. Go Cards. For Christ's sake, put the Tigers out of their misery.

By the way, have you seen the Div. I Men's basketball preseason top 25? We'll talk about that next week.

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Major League Baseball, St. Louis Cardinals, Detroit Tigers, World Series

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