Thy Kingdom Come!
Not with a bang, but a whimper...
I haven't blogged anything since Albert Pujols' homerun, which probably makes me look like an embarrassed fan hiding my head in the sand after the Cardinals' loss in Game 6. In fact, I've simply been too busy with increasing duties here, as well as family members in town for my parents' 25th anniversary.
But I do have some thoughts on the now-concluded post-season. Game 6 of the NLCS did indeed prove that, all my calculations notwithstanding, momentum is only as good as the next day's starting pitcher. Roy Oswalt went out and did on Wednesday night just what he had done the previous week: make the Cardinals look like they couldn't hit. Their heart-breaking loss on Monday night seemed to be in the past--thanks in part, I'm sure, to the day off in-between. They came right back and finished the job, leaving us once again in awe of their pitching.
There is little else for us to blame our loss on this time. There was a bad call at second base that killed a potential rally in the fifth, but the fact is that if the heart of your lineup doesn't deliver when it needs to, you won't win. Some have suggested that LaRussa should have allowed bench players like So Taguchi and John Rodriguez to show their stuff in place of injured veterans like Reggie Sanders and Larry Walker, both of whom did little throughout the NLCS. But such judgments are too easy to make in hindsight.
This lack of offense was the most disappointing thing. With the exception of the Pujols' home run, this series gave St. Louis fans the same feeling last year's World Series sweep did. To parody the famous poem:
This is the way the season ends
This is the way the season ends
This is the way the season ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
An offense that had been explosive all season was deafeningly silent, and that's all there is to be said. Nonetheless, the memory of Pujols' Game 5 home run will be around for a long time, and I am indeed grateful that the series ended, however disappointingly, at Busch Stadium for the last time.
It will sound like "sour grapes", and I wasn't smart enough to blog it before the event, but I did maintain, even before the Astros had eliminated the Cardinals, that the winner of the NLCS would simply win the chance to be sacrificial lambs for the Other Sox to end their own eighty-year-old curse. I would have been excited to see Boston finally winning last year, had they not been beating up on my team in the process, and with another team aiming to right years of frustration, I was sort of glad not to be in the way. At any rate, the Cardinals' failure to perform against Houston's starters made me wonder what would have happened against the ChiSox, who had FOUR different starters throw complete games in the ALCS! Complete games are rare enough in the regular season: four of them in a playoff series is almost unthinkable. Better to let the Astros have their shot at that rotation, and we'll wait for a year when there's no AL Team of Destiny to contend with!
The World Series was, I thought, very exciting, despite the fact that it was a sweep. Last year's sweep, aside from the fact that the Cardinals lost, was simpmly not that interesting after the Belhorn home run that won the crazy Game 1. This year, the sweep obscures the fact that every game was closely contested. We saw Chicago trail Game 2, only to come back with a grand slam, then Houston tie it with Burke's slide at the plate, and finally Podsednik's home run to once again show that Brad Lidge is human. Then there was Game 3, the longest WS game in the books, for which I stayed up into the 12th, only to doze off on the couch and miss the final home run. And then a one-run Game 4, with highlights such as Juan Uribe tumbling into the stands for a foul ball. As some have said, the only thing left is for the Chicago Cubs to win the World Series. That would be truly apocalyptic--and while I really did root for the Cubs to go all the way two years ago, it would be a little galling to us in St. Louis if they did it before we do, after all the chances we've had.
Thy Kingdom Come!
More Thoughts on The Home Run
Game 6 of the NLCS occurs tonight, and it will make or break the Cardinals' hopes, but before that, some final thoughts on what happened Monday night. It has been said by more baseball-savvy people than myself that this was the greatest homer in the history of the St. Louis Cardinals. And I think it has to be that. There have been great game-winning post-season homeruns in the past, such as Ozzie Smith and Jack Clark in the 1985 NLCS against the Dodgers, or Jim Edmonds in the 12th inning of Game 6 against Houston last year. But most of those homers occurred in situations where the Cardinals were leading the series, and when the game was tied. Pujols' Monday night blast, on the other hand, gained in one blow a come-from-behind win, when the Cardinals were one out away from losing not just the game but the whole series. I don't think even Bobby Thompson's "Shot Heard 'Round the World" compares with that.
Of course, the mention of Bobby Thompson brings to mind the fact that even great things like this don't always spell final victory. But at the same time, some of these moments live in history beyond the memory of who wins it all. Every baseball lover knows of Thompson's shot to win the 1951 National League pennant for the NY Giants in a three-game playoff with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Far fewer remember that the Giants then went on lose the World Series in six games to the Yankees, who were in the midst of one of their streaks of winning five or six years in a row. We'll always remember Pujols' homer, but there's no guarantee the Cardinals will go all the way, or even make it past tonight.
Nonetheless, anyone in Houston right now will certainly bear witness to the fact that this has definitely got them very worried. They're headed back here up 3-2, which is just what happened last year--except that last year they had the momentum from a walk-off home run in Game 5, and the Cardinals still won the next two here. If there were ever a momentum-shifter, Pujols' home run was it. It just might remind the Cardinals of why they won 100 games this year, including 11 over the Astros.
What's more, history bears witness that teams who suffer devastating blows on the verge of victory often are unable to recoup their loss. Witness the Cardinals in the '85 World Series, having all but won in Game 6, when the Denkinger call at first base gave Kansas City new life. The Royals came back that night and then pounded us the next day, 10-0. Next year, it was the Red Sox about to win it all, when Mookie Wilson's grounder went through Bill Buckner's legs to let the Mets come back. Boston lost that game and the next, and had to wait another 19 years for a title. Then there are the 1996 Cardinals, up 3-1 over the Braves, then dropping the next three to lose the NLCS. And in more recent history, look at 2003. The Cubs were up 3-1 over Florida, then lost Game 5, then lost Game 6 at home with the famous Moises Alou foul ball, when they were less than 6 outs from the Pennant. The Cubs' collapse continued into the next game. And just last year, we have the biggest choke of all, with the Yankees gaining a 3-0 lead over Boston, failing two games in a row to close out the deal, losing twice in extra innings, and finally losing two more in the Bronx, as the Sox reversed a 3-0 deficit for the first time ever. The point of all this being that when you get real close to a series victory and don't close the door, it more often than not comes back to haunt you. Then again, the Astros could ignore all this and win tonight like they did a week ago, in which case I'll look silly:)
A final thought: as ridiculous as it sounds, that Pujols home run was one of those moments when something as mundane as baseball transcends itself, and can even seem for an instant to be an echo of the Divine. The sensation that Cardinals fans had KNOWING that their season was over, and suddenly realizing that the impossible had happened, gave me a faint idea of what the morning of the Resurrection must have been like for the apostles. They KNEW the Lord was dead; they had ceased to even hope. And then, beyond hope, there came first the empty tomb, and then the Risen Lord himself. The analogy limps, of course, but in the unexpected reversal of that game, I got just a glimpse of what the Lord's victory over death, unexpected and unmerited by sinful man, must have been like. We'll see what happens tonight.
Thy Kingdom Come!
...And Still More Playoffs
I write on Monday night, but I'll rewind over the three NLCS games just played.
Saturday: Game 3. We were pretty down after losing Game 2, and under the pressure of having to win at Minute Maid. Game 3 pitted Matt Morris against "the Rocket", Roger Clemens himself. This struck me as a mismatch, and if I had to pick one game I thought the Cards would lose, it was this one. Yet I was determined to watch it nonetheless, figuring that I had little right to rejoice in our victories if I didn't suffer through the rough games. Not that I was looking forward to it. I had watched every game played in Houston last year, and the constant fear that one of the "Killer B's" (Berkman, Biggio, Bagwell, Beltran) would put one over the 315-ft. left field wall, coupled with the roar of the Houston crowd, had torn my nerves to shreds as the Cardinals dropped three straight. As it turned out, Saturday afternoon found me at St. Louis Abbey, delivering Archbishop Burke's cappa magna for use in their 50th jubilee celebrations. I had the opportunity to hear George Weigel give a lecture in honor of the occasion, and had no access to a TV. But I managed to get internet updates from time to time, and wasn't suprised to see us trailing 4-2. It was, however, particularly difficult to see finally that we had scored a run in the ninth, but still lost. Nonetheless, one doesn't count on victories against Clemens. No worries, I thought, tomorrow we'll do fine against Brandon Backe.
Sunday: Game 4. Suppan vs. Brandon Backe, seemed like a pretty good matchup for us. All we had to do was win this one, and it would be tied 2-2: we'd basically down to a best of 3 series, with St. Louis having homefield advantage. But once again, I was occupied, this time at the Mass for the St. Louis Archdiocesan Respect Life Convention, and was cut off from the game until the ninth inning. I discovered that I had missed a game that must have been truly nerve-wracking: tied most of the way, with Houston taking a 2-1 lead late, and Tony La Russa and Jim Edmonds both ejected over the home plate umpire's visually challenged calling of balls and strikes. Such games tend to make the tempers fly and the fan's blood-pressures rise, and I was once again thankful that I hadn't had to hear it all. Yet I was able to hear the ninth, and once again Brad Lidge, the Cardinal-killer, let us get just close enough to be tantalizing, as the Cards had Albert Pujols on third with no one out and couldn't score. Another one-run loss, after a good performance by a starter squandered by a stangely quiet offense that made Backe look like Bob Gibson. Now the Cardinals were really in trouble.
Monday: Game 5. Do or die. Backs to the wall. Chris Carpenter, our Cy Young candidate, was pitching, and he was a good man to have in a desperate game. Surely, we could beat Petite again and get this thing home. Of course, once again, I was stuck away from the game, this time at a St. Vincent de Paul meeting, and then showing some of my seminarian friends around the rectory (which I don't regret in the least). A brief glance at the TV showed it 2-1 Cards in the sixth. Then we came back a few minutes later, and I was stunned to suddenly see a "4" in Houston's column. I had missed the go-ahead home run by Lance Berkman, and the Cardinals were now truly on the ropes. As the ninth inning came on, I retreated to my room, as I had done at the end of last year's World Series, to listen with stoic resignation to the end of our season (and in this case, of our stadium).
Top of the ninth, and two out. Minute Maid park crowd roar deafening, understandably, as they were on the verge of their first pennant. The champagne was ready, and as far as Houston knew it was all over but the players swarming on the field. David Eckstein comes up, amid comments by the Cardinals announcers about how he's the man you want batting when the chips are down. Whatever, I thought, as Eckstein got two strikes. Then a hard hit ball--and a diving try by the infielder--and a base hit! OK, but we need at least two runs, and I didn't think much of the threat Eckstein posed--neither did Houston, as they let him steal second base without a throw. Jim Edmonds batting: a man who had a huge game-winning homer last NLCS, but who has also struck out plenty of times in a clutch. But this time he was patient, and amazingly, Lidge walked him. Up comes Albert Pujols.
Well, I thought, you can't say Lidge hasn't given the Cards any opportunities in the ninth. Here we have the best hitter in baseball, possibly the league MVP, with a chance to take the lead with one swing. But this is Brad Lidge, and he's been nearly flawless in the playoffs. I thought it was a dramatic at-bat, but wasn't daring to hope. Then on the 0-1 pitch, I heard Mike Shannon's voice erupt, not with the usual "Did he get enough? Get up there, baby! Get up!" but simply with "There it is!" Just like that, it was 5-4 Cardinals, and I let out a shout that I fear awakened a sleeping priest or two. I dashed out of my room and down to the lounge, where I sat with the pastor and watched the final three outs-still biting my nails, for it was far from a done deal that Isringhausen would shut down Houston. But after two ground-outs to none other than Albert Pujols, Chris Burke, Houston's surprise clutch hitter this series, drove one to deep right field--and there was So Taguchi to end it. I jumped up in a display of greater excitement than the pastor had probably ever seen, and ran to my room, where I called my mom to find out what it was like at home. They'd had a rough weekend of baseball, and had been, like me, attempting to resign themselves to the fact that this was the end for the Cardinals and Busch Stadium, but despite my mother's (reasonable) pleas, they hadn't turned it off just yet, and I'm sure they'll remember this for years to come.
TKC
Playoffs, Part 2
Well, it's been a while since I said anything here about baseball. The Division Series round is over. (A name which, by the way, never made sense to me. How is it a "division series" when all the division champions are already determined? I guess there was nothing else to call it; maybe "NLCS semifinals" sounds too much basketball.)
In the American League, I was genuinely surprised. We in St. Louis constantly complain about how the big markets like Boston and New York get so much more media attention than we in the Midwest, but I think I fell for the same error in presuming that the Red Sox and Yankees would advance to the ALCS for the third straight time. Turns out there are good AL teams outside of the radius of New York and New England, though most of us NL fans didn't hear much about the Angels all year. At the same time, I have to say I regret the elimination of Red Sox AND Yankees in the ALDS. As of this writing, the Cardinals' World Series hopes are still alive, and I would have dearly loved to have a rematch with Boston, or a chance to play the Yankees as we did in 1926, 1946, and 1964. Such a series would have been truly classic baseball--but then, so would Cardinals vs. White Sox, an all-Midwest matchup which I don't believe has ever come about, and very well could this year.
The NLDS wasn't as surprising. In the end, most of us in St. Louis expected to beat the Padres fairly handily, although there were some very exciting moments, such as Reggie Sanders' emergence as the postseason hero with his grand slam in Game 1 on the way to 10 RBI's in the series, as well as the three runs scored in Game 2 on two close plays at the plate and a suicide squeeze. Game 3, unfortunately, was scheduled at 10PM Central, requiring a very late Saturday night, but it was time well spent.
In the other half of the NLDS, I had expected Houston to win, but, I must say, fearfully. They gave us quite a run for our money last October, and most St. Louisans, I think, would have sooner faced Atlanta. As it turned out, Game 4, the 18-inning marathon ending in a walk-off home run, could be the most memorable game of this whole year; I could only watch in amazement and be thankful it wasn't my team putting me through the stress of a whole game of extra innings!
So here we are with the Cardinals-Astros NLCS rematch of last year. The pessimist in me would look at how tough we had it last year to win in seven games, and then be discouraged at the fact that Houston's rotation is stronger than last year, with the return of Andy Petite. On the other hand, we have improved our rotation with the addition of Mark Mulder, as well as the return of Chris Carpenter, who was hurt last October. Being able to have Jason Marquis kept in the bullpen if needed is something of a luxury. And Houston's lineup is somewhat less formidable without Jeff Kent and especially Carlos Beltran, who hammered us last year. Which to me means that on balance, we're about as evenly matched last year, with the Cardinals having perhaps a slight edge. There is one major cause of concern: our bullpen often needed every bit of our large leads in the San Diego series, and our closer Jason Isringhausen seems to have a fondness for living dangerously that could eventually come back to haunt us.
Game 1 seemed to confirm all these expectations: Carpenter was flawless through eight innings, while the Cardinals amassed five runs off Petite. The main trouble spot came in the ninth, when Isringhausen allowed the tying run to bat before getting the final out.
Game 2 reminded us that there's a reason Houston is still in it (though at times one wants to curse the whole wild card system and ask what the regular season means if a team who finished 10 games behind their division rivals can still get the chance to eliminate them in a best of seven series!). Roy Oswalt shut us down for seven innings and gave way to Brad Lidge. When Brad Lidge pitches an inning or two against the Cardinals, the game is effectively only seven or eight innings long, because we haven't scored on him in years. So when Oswalt got Edmonds to ground out with two men on to end the seventh, and pave the way for Lidge's entry, I rather quickly began thinking ahead and wondering which of the games in Houston we'd be able to win, for we'd need to win at least one. Game 2 was clearly a lost cause--but to make matters worse, Reggie Sanders, who could basically do no wrong up to this point, hurt himself falling in left field in the next inning! This raises serious concern, considering that Reggie has hitherto driven in 12 of our 25 postseason runs. The Cardinals heading to Houston are not out, but they are certainly down.
Last year, we needed our home field advantage, because winning at Houston seemed impossible. Some of us like to blame this on the weird traits of Minute Maid Park (the name says it all) with its 315-ft. left field fence, etc. Rather like the 1987 Minnesota Twins, the Astros took full advantage of their park's peculiarities to shut us down there (and where else can you find a train whistle to accentuate the home team's runs?). But having failed to win two in our own house, we have to win on the road now. Put in perspective, this isn't such a daunting task: we won as many games on the road as at home this season (50) and we've beaten the Astros several times at Enron Field--I mean Minute Maid Park:) But given the way last year's playoffs unfolded, and the fact that Roger Clemens is the first man we encounter in Houston, there is certainly cause for Cardinal nation to bite its nails over the next three days.
Adveniat Regnum Tuum!
As Requested, and For Whoever is Interested...
A posting in response to my quotation of the St. Michael prayer in Latin asked for the full text. Here it is.
"Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio; contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium. Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur; tuque, princeps militiae caelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo, divina virtute in infernum detrude. Amen."
I have found this and many other Latin prayers at http://www.thesacredheart.com/latpray.htm. I have altered the spelling and punctuation in a few places where it seemed to me that the site was in error: it would make no sense to have the indicative "imperat" as they do rather than the subjunctive "imperet" as I give it here. Minor points, I admit.
Thy Kingdom Come! How Lovely Is Your Dwelling Place... Wednesday, October 12, which was as typical a weekday as could be in most churches in America, was a solemnity here at the Cathedral Basilica. By an odd concatenation of liturgical and historical accidents, we celebrated Wednesday the anniversary of the dedication of our Cathedral. This seems odd at first, because in fact the Cathedral was consecrated, amid great solemnity and the presence of bishops from all over the world, on June 29, 1926. However, that day is the Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul, an observance which cannot be trumped by any other liturgical reality. The result is that another day is chosen on which to celebrate the anniversary. Why a date so far from the real one, and why this date in particular, I have not been able to determine, and Fr. Keller, who usually knows everything about these subjects, is equally at a loss. The whole thing is even odder since there is another day in October (I think the 24th) when every other church in St. Louis whose dedication falls on a major feast should celebrate theirs. These are the sort of odd facts of liturgical lore that usually make Fr. Brennan at Kenrick remark, "That would be a great topic for your M.A. thesis!" I think I’ll leave that one for someone else, though. The bigger question is, of course, why should the dedication of a church be such a big deal? This question presents itself particularly because when one examines the Scriptures on this subject, one finds that the Christian understanding of a sacred place is different from that of the ancient world. The ancients often had the idea that certain places were somehow sacred and imbued with the presence of the Divine. Places such as Olympus or Delphi were considered to be the homes of the gods, and the temples built to house their images were seen as the homes of the gods. One of the unique things about God’s relationship with his chosen people, on the other hand, was that Yahweh was not bound to a particular place: rather, he revealed himself through a personal covenant made to Abraham and his heirs. Israel was eventually settled in the Promised Land of Canaan, but Yahweh didn’t live in Canaan; rather, he gave it to Israel as a free gift. But after a while, Israel built a temple to the Lord, and he seemed pleased with it. Yet the danger always existed that Israel would rely on the temple as a means to control God and assure his protection, despite their infidelity. The prophets warned time and again against this, and eventually the Temple was destroyed, and the people sent to exile, where their commitment to the God who rules the whole earth was deeepened. But having a temple wherein to worship was still important for the returned exiles, and indeed they were chided by prophets like Haggai when they slacked off in rebuilding the Lord’s house. Enter the Incarnation. Jesus is often seen as being an iconoclastic rebel, challenging the Temple’s claim to provide an exclusive access to God. But Jesus certainly held the Temple in high regard, or else why would he have driven the money changers from it? Nonetheless, the death and resurrection of Jesus ultimately made the Temple obsolete for Christians, a fact confirmed by its destruction in 70 A.D. Christians would worship, as Jesus told the Woman at the Well, "neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem," but "in spirit and truth." Does this mean that henceforth Christian worship will be free of any attempt to build sacred places, that it is all about the individual’s sense of closeness to God in the depths of his heart? This view, while appealing to a certain strand in the American tradition (Quakers, Transcendentalists, etc.), would in fact not do justice to the real reason that the Temple became obsolete: not because God’s presence is no longer tangibly experienced among men, but because in Jesus God has become so thoroughly God-with-us that all previous attempts to have God present are seen as mere foreshadowings. Jesus, as God Incarnate, is himself the true Temple, and in his life and death, true worship is offered. And the Incarnation continues to touch each of us in the sacraments: there we encounter Christ acting in the Church today, above all through his eucharistic presence, and thereby making us his temples. So this is what makes the dedication of a Christian Church, though special, different from pagan, or even Old Testament, notions of what makes a place sacred. For Christians, there is nothing inherently sacred about the spot where a given church is located: as one of our priests pointed out, our Cathedral is built on a fairly arbitrary location, and Archbishop Glennon could as easily have picked another. What makes the Church sacred is the fact that the Body of Christ is gathered there. It is true, as many often say today, that God’s people are his true temple, and that without them the Church building is a mere mass of stone (or whatever material is used!). But we shouldn’t take that to mean that WE somehow make a place sacred all by ourselves: we can only be the Body of Christ in the world because Christ himself, through his sacraments, makes us such. Which is why it is above all the Eucharist that makes the Church, and why wherever the Eucharist is, we can truly say as is said of the New Jerusalem in Revelation, "Here God dwells among his people!"
Thy Kingdom Come! Harriet Who? I have to say that this was my reaction when I belatedly found out last Monday afternoon that the President had announced his choice of Harriet Miers for the Supreme Court early that morning. I had heard pundits at National Review Online mention her name before, but only to dismiss it as not even being a serious suggestion for the post. And from what I can tell from the same pundits, they are not at all enthusiastic about her. I have to say that at this point, with his first Supreme Court nominee sitting as Chief Justice after a relatively smooth confirmation process, I had expected President Bush to pull out all the stops and nominate a judge with a clear conservative judicial philosophy, and dare the Senate Democrats to do their worst. Names like Michael Luttig and Michael McConnell stood out as the sort we might expect, or maybe even one of the previously filibustered nominees like Priscilla Owen. In any case, I wasn’t expecting the President to seek compromise with the Democrats, and certainly was hoping that he wouldn’t keep us in his "base", who supported him for this cause above all, guessing as to whether his pick would be reliable and not pull a David Souter. Then he gave us Ms. Miers. Conservatives are flustered, because when the President had a great opportunity to pick a star conservative judge, he instead went for someone whose view of the law most of us know very little about. All we could think of was that being unwilling to provoke an all-out war in the Senate at a time when, according to the prevailing media wisdom, the GOP is supposedly weak due to Iraq, anti-war sentiment, post-Katrina fallout, and Tom Delay’s indictment, the President compromised. And yet, as a real compromise, Harriet Miers doesn’t seem an ideal choice. While conservatives do not know her as an originalist stalwart, neither does the left have any idea how "moderate" or otherwise she is. Even more than John Roberts, she is a big question mark, and she will certainly face the same tough questions John Roberts did. And if the President was trying to avoid criticism from his opponents, then why would he pick a woman who has been one of his closest collaborators for the last ten years, thereby inviting understandable criticism from both sides that he is simply engaging in blatant favoritism to an old friend? All this has to suggest to me an alternative explanation: that the President is truly confident that Ms. Miers will be as conservative as Justices Scalia and Thomas, and has good reason to think so, since he knows her not only by reputation but personally. Miers, after all, was heavily involved in the process of selection that produced the nomination of John Roberts and numerous conservative judges on lower courts. It would stand to reason that her views on judicial matters are similar to theirs. We have all learned that Miers has long been a devoted member of her evangelical church in Dallas, and that she attempted to move the American Bar Association away from its pro-choice position. All the indicators are that she is a pro-life conservative. Some commentators have pointed out that this doesn’t equate to being willing to rule that Roe v. Wade is unconstitutional, but in practice, almost any conservative Christian who wishes to see abortion ended in America will recognize that the very idea that it is a constitutional right would be laughable, were it not so tragic. In other words, I think what we know of Miers makes her likely to be a true conservative , and the President appointed her because he knows her and can trust that she will not "grow" into a liberal after a few years on the Court. At the same time, he believed her lack of a judicial paper trail would make her a harder target for Senate Democrats. And of course, there was the fact that almost everyone in the media was demanding that O’Connor be replaced by a woman--and the somewhat more substantive point that, like O’Connor, Miers has not sat previously as a judge. Looking "outside the judicial monastery" was actually a concrete suggestion made by several senators to the President, and plenty of Supreme Court justices (including the late Chief Justice Rehnquist) came to the court without prior judicial experience. The choice of Miers was unexpected and denied conservatives the satisfaction we would have had from seeing someone like Priscilla Owen confirmed to the Supreme Court. Nonetheless, it seems to be a genuine attempt by the President to pick a reliable judicial conservative who, by not being easily labeled as "extreme," would stand a good chance of confirmation without provoking a filibuster. It remains to be seen whether the Senate will warm to her, or whether the Democrats will denounce her as a pawn of the President--or some Republicans reject her as not clearly conservative. But if her nomination should fail, could we count on the President’s next pick to be more conservative, or even more unreliable?
Thy Kingdom Come!
Playoff Time
Well, it's October, and if I'm smart, I won't plan on getting much done in the evenings. At least not if last year is any indication. Because when the Cardinals are in the playoffs, the world of Michael Houser becomes very red-dominated.
My experience of Cardinals post-season baseball has always been one of trying to dream the apparently impossible dream. My earliest memory of Major League Baseball in which I actually had a clue what was transpiring came at the age of 6, in fall of 1987, when the Cardinals were playing the Giants in something called "the playoffs". The Cardinals beat the Giants, and I discovered we now got to play in something called the "World Series" against Minnesota. The fact that twenty-some other teams had tried to get to this World Series and failed was not entirely clear to my emerging baseball consciousness, but I knew that this was important stuff. Unfortunately, the Cardinals lost the first two games in the Metrodome. Then they came to St. Louis and, lo and behold, they won three straight. At this point I started to catch on: when the Twins play in St. Louis, we beat them. When they play in their dome, they beat us. This observation filled my young soul with some trepidation as I realized that the last two games would be in the Metrodome! Sure enough, the Cardinals fell in Game 7, which I, foreseeing the outcome, didn't have the heart to stay up and watch (or maybe it was just past my 6-year old curfew!).
Until last year, this earliest baseball memory was the last time the Cardinals would taste the Fall Classic. I reveled in stories of the great teams of the '80s, with three pennants and one world championship (and yes, the accursed Denkinger call). Unfortunately, those glory days were fading fast, and my most intense years of following baseball were the late '80s and early '90s, when the Cardinals tried in vain to even capture the division title. The next time we would get to enjoy post-season baseball came in 1996, when I was in high school, and not even living in town.
Since then, to some extent, the glory days have been back; my younger brothers and sisters have grown up taking it for granted that the Cardinals will be in the running for the playoffs, as they have been in 1996, 2000-2002, and 2004. Part of it, I suppose, is the expanded playoff format, which allows teams that would otherwise have been out of luck to now make the cut.
Anyway, here we are again. Finally being back in the Series last fall after the almost two decades of my baseball-conscious life was surreal; the way in which the team then proceeded to complete meltdown while the Boston Red Sox won the World Series was doubly surreal. I didn't begrudge the Sox their long-awaited joy, but it was tantalizing to come so close only to fail again.
So here we are again, in the Cardinals' final days at Busch Stadium, their final days of being broadcast on KMOX, and we wonder if this is indeed "the year." We can take comfort in the constants of our lineup like Albert Pujols, and the unexpected emergence of Cy Young candidate Chris Carpenter on the mound; we curse the loss of our third baseman Scott Rolen and tremble at the apparent instability of the bullpen. But after making it to the big show last year, Cardinal nation is expecting nothing less this time around. This Cardinals team has had to scramble, to have minor-league call-ups and bench players make plays to compensate for its many injuries, and experience shows that it's often teams like that which can win championships.
And the possible matchups are fascinating. Cardinals-Red Sox, to exact payback for our humiliating sweep? Cardinals-Yankees, with a chance to take down the evil empire as we did in 1926, 1942 and 1964? Even an "I-55 Series" of Cardinals-White Sox would be exciting, although the White Sox are probably about as "due" to win as the Red Sox were last year.
So here I am, counting the chickens before they hatch. We've first to deal with San Diego, and/or Houston (who beat us plenty this last month, and nearly took us down last fall), and/or Atlanta (who beat us ignominiously in seven games back in 1996). I can't wait to see what transpires, and will be sure not to expect to accomplish too much studying in the month of October:-)
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