Game 2 Report

First things first: my summer-long personal attendance streak is over. Everyone rejoice! I’m not a bad luck charm after all!

So yes, I was there last night. Still sitting in the loge section, but way down off the first base line. To give you an idea: I had an excellent view of So Taguchi’s game-winning homer (aside: how odd it is to say “So Taguchi’s game-winning homer! I’ll have to try and fit that into this post a couple more times), but couldn’t see Spezio’s triple at all. The people in my section were wondering if the umpires were debating about whether that triple was fair or foul.

Anyway, Shea was just as intense as it was Thursday night. As for whether it was louder than Busch: I really have no idea about that sort of thing. First of all, I’ve never been to a playoff game there, but I wouldn’t imagine there was much of a difference either way. Basically? They’re loud, we’re loud, it all evens out.

A personal first: We took the Long Island Railroad to get to Shea, rather than the 7 train. At first I noticed a few people walking with bagged 40-oz. Buds (”real subtle!” I thought) and then all of the sudden, EVERYONE had cans of beers. On the train.

“Wait a second, why is everyone carrying around beers?”

And the Mets fan I was traveling with said, “Because that’s what the LIRR is. Everyone drinks on the train. Drinking cars, drinking platforms, the whole thing.” And sure enough, he pointed me to a bar kiosk right on the platform. Those crazy New Yorkers!

There was a lot of talk on the train about how out-of-line Pujols was for his Glavine comments, and a lot more (somewhat) friendly harrassment for me and the other lone Cards fan on the train. Certainly more of a tailgate atmosphere than the subway, but probably not worth the $11 we paid.

Anyway, there was a lot of heckling before and during the game. I probably deserved it, as I was DECKED OUT. Embarrassingly so: Red hat, red jacket, red scarf, red shirt. Hilariously cheesy, actually. My friend Jada, the genius who’d nabbed the tickets, was disappointed that I wasn’t wearing red pants. “God, I thought you were supposed to be a fan! What’s the matter with you?”

[Can I interrupt this post to mention how much I love Jersey Boys? I'm listening to the CD right now and it's got me wanting to dance around my bedroom rather than finish this post. GOOOOO John Lloyd Young! Ok, back to baseball.]

Anyway, as soon as I got to my seat the Mets fans behind me starting teasing me. Now, I’m a mild-mannered girl and am no good at smack talk. What I am good at is talking baseball with strangers, so I rejected their attempts to talk smack and made friends with them instead. We all were chatting throughout the whole game, with them telling me about the finer points of Jose Reyes’s wonderful abilities, and with me explaining Eckstein’s appeal. “He’s a runt! You don’t understand, though, he’s not just scrappy, he’s actually decent!” (Of course, he then goes 0-4, but whatever.) And of course I told them about my adoration for Jim Edmonds even though he’d probably strike out. The Mets fans disagreed: “You didn’t see him in batting practice, ” they said. “One bomb after another.” (Of course, I wasn’t too unhappy when they were proved right and I was proved wrong.) Later in the game we all started making bets: “I bet you 25 cents Reyes is going to score!” “I bet you your quarter back that Pujols will get another hit!” “Oh, fuck it, let’s just bet on who’s going to win.” That there was baseball rivalry at its finest, wouldn’t you say?

I was one of the few who didn’t get mercilessly heckled: my friends Chad and Marc had a tough time, and whenever the few Cards fans in my section left to pee or whatever, they got booed LOUDLY. Those crazy New Yorkers!

I was getting very depressed about the Cardinals and life in general early in the game, but despite my negativity (I owe a big apology to the whole team for that - sorry, guys, my bad, but really, I was just using the last 11 games I’ve attended as a blueprint) the Cardinals decided to chip away at the Mets’ lead. “Well, whaddya know,” I kept thinking, “this game ain’t over yet.”

[Another aside: Fritz, you're a dumby. Just kidding - I actually agreed with you when you said this, so I'm a dumby too. And yes, I know I spelled that wrong.]

Anyway, when they finally took the lead in the ninth, I was cheering and yelling to beat the band. Now, I understand that I shouldn’t be rubbing my glee in the faces of all these dejected Mets fans, but it’s really hard to contain excitement like that. I never really know what to do in those situations, but the people around me were really nice about it.

So that’s about it - my experience at Shea these last two nights. I’m going to a Mizzou Tigers watch party (not arranged by me, thank god) and then to Dewey’s (I guess) to watch the Birds. Is it just me, or does that sound a lot like nine straight hours of drinking? Oh dear.

 

Game 1 Report

Man, what a great game.

So I was there last night. I’ve mentioned my ex-boss with the amazing seats before – and can you imagine a better time to be in THOSE SEATS than a pitchers’ duel? Seriously, watching baseball there (behind the plate, one level up) is such a treat. It also didn’t hurt that five of the six of us in the box were cheering for the Cardinals. One thing, though: when I went to visit Danyah, there was wait service at her seat, and I think this is the greatest idea ever. When the Mets open their new stadium (more on that in a bit, btw), they really need to have that available for my ex-boss’s seats. Seriously. It’s genius. I was too terrified to leave my seat and miss a single bit of the action last night, and therefore didn’t eat or drink anything the whole game (I was too excited to eat beforehand, too). I’m telling you: WAIT SERVICE.

Oh wait, was I just talking about food and not about baseball? Oops, sorry.

The crowd was, as expected, crazy intense. We all heard the cheering as we walked out onto the subway platform, which is a fair bit away from the stadium. For the most part, they weren’t crazy nasty to the Cardinals players (although the “Weaver” taunting in the sixth got really loud), with the exception of Looper. Here’s the thing about the taunts: NONE of them were in unison. (I don’t know if it’s the Shea echoes or what.)

A complaint about the crowd. JUST SO WE’RE CLEAR: I don’t mind heckling in fun and all that.  I mean, I expect it since I go to so many away games. But on the way out, the Mets fans around me saw a family of Cards fans and started chanting “Fuck the/Cardinals! Fuck the/Cardinals!” And a lot of the fans on the ramp took up the chant.  Again, I’ve got no problem with heckling, but cursing at a family with at least one kid under 10, and another that looked only 12 or 13? Not necessary, people! And then another Mets fan walked up to my ex-boss (in a Cardinals hat) and slammed his hand down on the bill, saying “the Cardinals suck!” Pretty rude, and I doubt that St. Louis fans are that obnoxious. Every team worth its salt has its drunken idiot fans, though, so maybe I’m being unfair. Of course, there were funny moments, too (like the Mets fan who started talking about old “Red Cheney” - I guess he was getting Dick Cheney and Red Schoendienst confused? Hee!). I guess I should be a better ambassador for New York baseball fans (I generally defend them against people who think they’re thugs, because I’ve met so many fantastic ones). Maybe I’m just being sensitive because we lost or something.

Mookie Wilson was exiting the stadium at the same time we were. He started to leave, and then a whole bunch of Mets fans noticed him and started chanting MOO-KIE WIL-SON. And the look on his face was priceless - he was all, “Fuck this, I’m going back inside until the crazies are gone.” And he went back in.

Oh wait, was I just talking about the crowd and not about baseball? Oops, sorry.

Random tidbits… I’ve decided that even though the Cardinals have lost the last 11 times I’ve gone to see them in person, I refuse to accept this “bad luck charm” thing. Dammit, I’m going to keep going UNTIL THEY WIN!… I was FREEZING by the third inning or so, but refused to put on my blue jacket (it wasn’t red!) until it started raining. THEN I gave in… Donald Trump was on the kiss cam - it was DISGUSTING…. Man, playoff baseball goes SOOOO SLOOOOOWWWWW with all those long commercial breaks. I mean, the intensity makes it worth it and all, but geez. Over three hours for a pitcher’s duel?… They had a “Sweet Caroline” singalong late in the game. Who decided that “Sweet Caroline” was a good song for baseball? I think it’s lame and cheesetastic. I protest… The lone Mets fan in our group accidentally told me that he owned the Mets 1986 World Series DVD, then got really embarrassed about it. “I wasn’t going to tell you that! I didn’t buy it for myself, it was a present!” Little did he know that I’m no stranger to embarrassing DVDs myself… I’m a sucker for playoff bunting (I’m referring to the flags, not the thing David Eckstein does so well), but apparently I’m not the only one. The guy standing next to me on the subway had STOLEN the bunting! He was carrying it around like a trophy. What a Weirdo. Seriously, what the hell is he going to do with some torn-off playoff bunting?… I kept the score so inattentively last night that I might as well have given up. I’m not usually too stressed out to keep score, but I could hardly concentrate on it yesterday, and am not sure if I’ll even bother tonight… They showed a computer video of the new Mets stadium (please! Metlife, you HAVE to buy the naming rights!!!! That would be the second-coolest corporate name for a stadium EVER. First being Busch, of course, but I’m biased) and I’ve got to say, I think it’s going to be neat. I’ll always miss Shea, though. Seems like whether we win or lose, good things happen when I go to Shea. Good baseball, good people, funny stories, attractive boys, etc.

I’m going back to the game tonight. I think my seats will be significantly less impressive this time around, but I will report back tomorrow on the experience. (But oh wait, I might not talk about the game itself much. Oops!) Goooooo cards!

 

Pittsburgh report

While I’m waiting for the Cards/Cubs game to start (grr, not like I’ll be able to listen to it anyway, stupid work computer), I thought I’d write up a little report on my adventures in Pittsburgh. Better late than never…. Or a day late and a dollar short? You decide. Details behind the cut.

 

Is this a sign that I shouldn’t go travel to see the Cardinals?

“I came all the way to Pittsburgh! I showed up! Why didn’t the Cardinals show up?”

Hmm. So I travel to see the Cards play in Detroit. And they get swept. And then I travel to see them play in Pittsburgh… And they get swept. So should I cancel my trip to DC over Labor Day? On the other hand, I’m not generally a superstitious sports fan. The answer could be that the Cardinals just aren’t very good, whether I’m in the stadium or not. 

Actually, I have lots of thoughts and reports from my weekend in Steel City, and work permitting I’ll try to get them up today or tonight. (If you’re expecting Cards analysis, don’t. These are reports of the chitchatty variety.) But first I wanted to say just a few things:

1. I already miss Larry Borowski! Only six days until he comes back from vacation! To be expected, given my cardsblogger abandonment complex, I suppose.
2. Anything from any team that isn’t the Cardinals is lame.
3. Unfortunately, the Cardinals are also lame.
4. I use the word “lame” more than any human has a right to. (Just ask Fritz who apparently received a drunken phone call awhile back with an unholy number of “Is this video game laaaaaaaaaaaame?” type questions. Or Danyah, who posts blog titles to that effect). 
5. I should wean myself off this word, no doubt.
6. But it seems to be the best word to describe the Cards right now.
7. So where does that leave me?

 

Yeah, I’m a slacker. Get over it.

[Re: the redesign: I TOLD you I’d put up something more team-centric eventually.] 

Well, I was considering putting up a post mocking Cardnilly for never blogging anymore (Lame, dude! Lame!) but then I realized that I never blog any more either, so my pointed wit wouldn’t exactly come through. So why have I been ignoring the Cardinals? Well, I haven’t been ignoring THEM, actually. I’ve just been ignoring YOU. I have had interesting things happen to me, though. 

For example: I went to the beach a few weeks ago, and spent mucho time at a Tiki bar drinking Daiquiris. The highlight of the weekend? On one of my trips back to the bar to get a refill, some guy notices my ballcap, taps me on the shoulder, and hits me with the best pickup line EVER: “Excuse me, are you a Cardinals fan?”  

You should have seen my smile. Mucho “Where did you go to high school” and “Which Cardinal is the wallpaper on your cell phone” and “Do you know what today’s score is?” questions later, he got my number and we’d decided to watch a game together. 

… And that’s the whole story, actually. If you were hoping that I was actually going to go anywhere with that story, you probably don’t know me very well (our plans to meet up fell through; I decided the guy was an idiot – you know, the usual schtick).  

But it just goes to show that the perfect pickup line does, in fact, exist. 

I know what you’re thinking. “Uh, dude, what does this have to do with the Cardinals? Why are you annoying us with dating stories?” You’re right. I apologize. Instead I’ll talk about the Cards losing six in a row, and Mulder stinking up the joint, and Izzy blowing saves yet again, and the team’s sudden failure to make a timely hit, and…  

Oh, what’s that? You want to hear the flirting stories after all? 

All righty then. So this weekend I go off to Detroit to watch the Birds play the Tigers. Bet and her friend bought themselves seats for Saturday’s game before they knew I’d join them, so my big plan was to join my friend Michelle, who had to make a quick stop at a wedding before meeting me at the game. So I went off to the bar across the street (I chose Cheli’s as their logo looks somewhat like the Birds on the Bat – yes, this is the way my brain works).  

Two Tigers fans walk up to me and ask me why I’m by myself. I explain that my friend is on her way, as soon as she can escape from this wedding. They immediately start mocking me for ever thinking that Michelle would leave her friend’s wedding to go to a ballgame. “I got news for you, kid. She ain’t coming.” 

Of course, this was nonsense. But the second inning was already starting, so I bought myself an SRO ticket and sat with the fellas in their bleacher seats until Michelle came along. (She kept sending me text messages about how she was going to leave in a few minutes, although I think she got considerably less worried about leaving the wedding once I texted her that I was in the ballpark and watching the game, and told her should enjoy herself with the free alcohol. Naturally, she decided this meant she didn’t have to show up at all. Geez, good thing I didn’t wait outside for her, right?) 

All the fun, flirtation and frolic came to a crashing end in the ninth inning, when Izzy blew another save (GOOD GRIEF, MAN! HAVE YOU NO SHAME?). And the fun people surrounding me took the opportunity to relentlessly heckle the poor, sweet Cardinals fan nearby. Including my friendly bar guys! (Seriously, even this 70-year old guy in front of me was harassing me! What did I ever do to him?) I decided to become St. Julia, The Put-Upon and abandon my merry mood for a hurt, dejected one.  

Which is considerably less conducive to flirtation, as you can imagine. So… that was pretty much that, as far as Saturday night went (dude, two stories in a ROW with lame endings – sorry, people).  If I think of an exciting story about Sunday’s game, you can bet that it will be here. I’m having a hard time writing about Sunday without getting very cranky, so I don’t know if I’ll manage it.  

 

A Transcript

This morning, about 7:28 am. I was just about to leave and go to work when my Astros fan roommate wandered into the kitchen.

Astros fan: (sleepily walks in).
Me: Go away! I HATE YOU!
Astros fan: (still drowsy) No you don’t.
Me: Yes, I do! Forget it, I’m not speaking to you.
Astros fan: What? Why? What’d I do?
Me: I don’t want to talk about it. I have to go to work.
Astros fan: (realization dawning) Wait a second. Does this have something to do with the Cardinals?
Me: I’m not speaking to you! I hate Larry Biggio!
Astros fan: I LOVE LARRY BIGGIO!
Me: (stomps out the door)

Now, all is well now as Sooooooooo Taguchi salvaged the series in the 11th. (Man, productivity at work during a day game is difficult enough. But when there’s a tense game like today it’s nearly impossible!). But I must say that last night’s loss is made me crankier than a loss in May has any right to do. (Yes, there was pillow-punching involved.) So frustrating. And against the Astros! Grrrr…

This, I think, is the sign of a healthy rivalry.

 

7 Down, 22 To Go

Dammit! I hate it when my social life interferes with baseball. I missed most of this weekend’s action in the name of “friends” and “living life”. Bah! Having fun gives me hangovers. I’d rather watch TV.

On the other hand…

Because I wasn’t at home watching baseball games by myself, I managed to knock off two more teams off my list. What list, you ask? Why, my 2006 resolution to strike up a fight with a fan from every baseball team in the Majors. I told you all about it back in December.

So, as the title suggests, I’ve been slacking a bit in this area. I didn’t even meet and pick on any Phillies fans when I was IN THEIR STADIUM a few weeks ago. But that isn’t what concerns me (I’ve got five months left in the season!); Here’s what does. First of all, all seven of my fights have been with men. This stinks (as if I wasn’t annoyed ENOUGH with myself for missing a chance to meet Red Hot Mama! DAMMIT DAMMIT! If I hadn’t gotten to hang out with bellyscratcher and her cronies, I would really have gone over the bend by now). I’m going to have to seek out some smart female fans to debate with as I continue the quest.

Second of all: I still have to figure out how to argue with teams about whom I have little-to-no knowledge. Generally, I have to resort to pretty low tactics. Last night, I battled with a willful Blue Jays fan, and the argument quickly degenerated into a USA vs. Canada argument. Which I lost, by the way.

People: apparently Canadians are far more knowledgeable about our state capitals than you’d think. So if you’re ever involved in a “Canadian names the State Capitals/American Names the Province Capitals” contest: STUDY UP. As if we need to give Canadians any more evidence about our American idiocy.

 

After a week in St. Louis:

Well, it's just about time to go back to New York, and I've been feeling very sorry for myself all day. (When I'm in New York, I like living there better; when I'm in St. Louis, I like my hometown better.)

Just a few things I've learned this week:

1. KTRS is just as obsessed as I am with the Pujols Game 5 home run as I am. They even played the Houston feed the other night.
2. That guy Monty on KTRS? Total idiot.
3. I once proclaimed my loooooove for McGraw Milhaven, but am now convinced he's an idiot, too. KTRS was more or less a waste of my time until I gave up and just jammed to my iPod instead.
4. NOT an idiot: bellyscratcher, who I met for pizza at the Blackthorn (I always loved their pizza until I gave up meat. And cheese. Now it's just sorta pointless) and the Friday night Cards-Cubs game.
5. Also NOT an idiot: bellyscratcher's proxy, (who I've actually known for years - small world!), or their roommate.
6. I want a hip cardinal red St. Louis-related t-shirt, and am totally unable to decide between Rina Wear and Stl-style. Anyone know anything about the shirt quality of these places? Although the fact that Rina Wear even produces an "I heart Cardinals baseball… Because my boyfriend says so" is just about enough to make me boycott the company. I mean, what the hell is that? A girl who wears that shirt deserves a kick in the shin.
7. When Albert Pujols tells fans not to boo, they listen. At the game Saturday, the boos were even harder to find than the Cubs fans. (Where WERE the Cubs fans this weekend? Odd.)
8. My friend and I were tireless in our Busch III Best SRO Spot Hunt, and eventually decided that along the third base line, next to the Bank of America club, can't be beat (see pic below). The Cards also started scoring as soon as we moved there, so it's a lucky spot, FOR SURE.

 

 

Back to the Busch of the Future

The big problem with me having a blog is that I have a hard time with the meta aspect of baseball. I can tell you all about my experiences at Busch III (and I'm just about to, in fact), but I have no interest in discussing any of the following:

1. Whether or not Pujols will ever see another pitch
2. Just how far the Cardinals can get with a lousy outfield
3. How many games Marquis and Pujols will win singlehandedly
4. Anything else vaguely intelligent

I bring this up because it struck me particularly on Sunday. As I was watching the game, keeping score and drinking a beer, I realized that I had no way of adding up the whole experience in a meaningful blog post. Stream-of-consciousness, I suppose, is what I'll have to go with for the forseeable future.

What I can talk about, on the other hand, are the moments that strike me as a Cardinals fan. For one thing, on three separate occasions (touring around the stadium beforehand, then twice in our seats), we ran into what you might call "hoosiers". You know, the people Cubs fans make fun of, and Cards fans from St. Louis (namely: me) sometimes dismiss, too. Anyway, on all three occasions the out-of-towners proved to be smart and passionate fans. I hope this doesn't sound condescending, like I was trying to say "Hey! They know their baseball, too! Isn't that shocking?" or something like that. I just meant that one of the great things about being a Cards fan is that I can make friends with people that I wouldn't otherwise cross paths with. And it happens a lot at Cardinal games I've attended, be it in St. Louis, New York, Washington or Kansas City. It was nice. Really points up the fact that sports is, after all, all about community. And we've got a good one.

Which isn't to say there weren't same big idiots around us. People! Stop standing up and leaving for the bathroom or the concession stands during the middle of the inning! Cheez. And don't get me started on the early leavers.

Pujols obviously wanted to celebrate the 28th anniversary of Bob Forsch's first no-hitter (and my birth) with his performance yesterday. Thanks for that, Albert. Brings my birthday Cardinal win streak to four. (Everybody else keeps track of this, too, right?)

In any case, we had fun wandering around the stadium, and I don't mind the new Busch. I quite liked it. Might as well like it; it's not going anywhere. And I'm sure it will only get better as time goes by, too.

I know that sounds less than enthusiastic, but I don't mean it to be. I guess the stadium stopped mattering to me the second Mulder threw the first pitch. What WAS important was that just as the last ballpark was, it's a nice place to watch a ballgame.

One quirk of our section (in the outfield boxes - the view is evident in the photo above) was that it was incredibly quiet (in terms of the sound system). We couldn't hear the at-bat intro songs, and we certainly couldn't hear Ernie Hays play the organ. At first, we thought it was a conscious choice to tone things down and keep Ernie on a leash, and lamented the loss of that organ song for a base hit ("Dah-dah-dah/Dah-dah-dah… "). By the time the seventh-inning stretch ran around, though, we had pieced it together that because the seats above us weren't finished, they hadn't even set up the speakers in our section yet. Ohhhhhhhh.

Still, though. It was certainly a nice change from Shea on Friday. Just fantastic to be home. The only bummer was that Bet and Zanner seem to feed off each other's beer apathy, and we didn't end up getting to check out Shannon's (or meet Fritz or bellyscratcher or Red Hot Mama). On the other hand, delicious birthday pie was waiting for us at home, so there was really no reason to waste time, after all.

Oh, and I look young enough to have gotten one of those t-shirts they were handing out at the entrance. (I have no qualms about getting free stuff for looking so young. Ask me sometime about the 13-and-under ski lift pass I got two years ago.) Unfortunately, it's got a photo of Encarnacion on it (along with Eck, Mulder and… I forget who else, the shirt's not handy to me right now).

So I'm not positive I'm going to like wearing it, but I've already established that I'll suffer for my team, as long as I can later ramble on endlessly about it in my blog.

 

A tale of two minds

This morning I woke up bitter and jaded because of the Series Which Must Not Be Named. I decided that I'd buy a ringtone for all my Cubs fan friends so I'd immediately know when they were calling me just to gloat (last night I made the mistake of not checking the ID and actually picked up). The hunt cheered me up a bit. I'm thinking… Something incredibly annoying? Or evil? If anyone has any thoughts… (Maybe that Darth Vader/Death Star theme?)

And then I became euphoric as it dawned on me that today was HOME OPENER DAY and though I had to work, the DVR was ready to go. Nothing like opening a brand new stadium to wipe away the scarring from being swept by the Cubs. The rest of the morning was spent counting down the minutes to the first pitch (no, seriously, I had my own personal countdown going on).

And then I went to check my fantasy teams, realized that I'm doing terribly in all of them, and got depressed again. AND irritated. What the hell is fantasy baseball all about? Man, if I didn't have to set the damn roster every day, I might get into it. Like I don't have other things to do (Ok, going to make a personal countdown isn't exactly an important thing, but you get my point).

And then the game started, and you can imagine all the ups and downs that I experienced while gamecasting this afternoon. I left work on a jubilant high, as Mark Mulder had just hit a homer.

I came home 45 minutes later to watch the end of the game - and found my roommate lounging in front of the TV, watching a movie. Bastardo! And my bipolarity (is that even a word?) struck again. Heartbroken, I agreed to wait until 8 pm so he could finish up, then ran to the TV as soon as he moved and… Apparently, the DVR is a Cubs fan (this insight courtesy Lakeline Leah). It didn't record. More bastardos! The only thing that kept me from the depths of despair was the fact that I'd just looked up the final score, and the bullpen seemed to avoid total implosion.

But I was not to be denied my Opener. (Not to be confused with My opener…) I borrowed Bet's MLB.tv subscription, and am FINALLY watching the game. So now I'm back on a high: drinking a beer, admiring New Busch, and watching a game that I know the Cards are going to win.