Take Me Out To The Ballgame

It’s hard to think of baseball when it’s around thirty degrees outside, and your very own lawn has a fresh coat of snow. Baseball conjures hot days, cold beer, and the requisite all beef dog that you never regret eating, diet or not. Baseball means short sleeves, sandals, and a motivation to stay away from the bleacher seats, lest you fry in the sun and come away from the game absolutely miserable.

But this October, despite the lack of warmth, baseball got me.

It’s always your favorite team, isn’t it? You’re not really paying attention until something extraordinary happens, but it has to apply to the team that you traditionally root for. This is the curse behind fanaticism. I wasn’t even going to watch the World Series if the pairing were going to be the NY Mets and the Oakland A’s. Out of pure spite for any coastal team (the Seattle Mariners excluded), I simply wasn’t willing to watch this world championship battle if I would have to root for either California or New York.

Suddenly, Oakland was out. The Detroit Tigers – the come from no where team of the entire season – were now poised for a match up with either the Mets or the Cardinals in the World Series of 2006. This changed things for me. Not because I am a fan of Detroit. No. I am a fan of St. Louis.

Detroit’s play off win woke me up to the reality that not only would I not be seeing the two dreaded coastal teams in the Series, but there was an actual chance that the Cardinals may be pitted against the Tigers in the World Series. I had watched the tail end of the National League play-offs with so much trepidation and fear that I was certain I was developing an ulcer. All the way to game seven, the Mets and the Cards had me biting my nails to the quick. I was unable to watch game seven, to tell you the truth. I couldn’t stand the possibility of watching St. Louis lose, while in the back of my mind I tried to make myself feel better about it: well, at least I can root for Detroit for the championship if St. Louis tanks in the play-offs.

Now, now, before you spout off about my Negative Nancy approach to being a sports fan, just know that this outlook is really for my own good. I am far too concerned of a fan. I had to stop watching professional hockey about four years ago, because I found myself getting too overemotional while the puck was in play. It turns out that just two years later, I found myself undergoing a stress diagnosis due to an unexpected fainting spell. I need not exaggerate the affect that being a sports fan has on me.

Let us also not forget about the last time the Cardinals were in the World Series. What? You don’t remember?! Oh, well that’s okay. In 2004, the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. This, in and of itself, was a miracle of miracles. It’s easy to forget that they actually had to play another team in order to win… and that team just happened to be St. Louis.

So, back in 2004 as this pairing of baseball skill took place, I was in yet another grip of fan related anxiety. I got through one game and had to stop watching after that.

But this time… I don’t know what it is this time. Seeing Lou Brock throw out a first pitch? The fact that “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” during the seventh inning has been replaced by “America the Beautiful” (which chokes me up every time)? Maybe it is just the mere fact that this is damn good baseball. Although a pitching competition for most of what this series has been; Game 4 changed all that. The edge of your seat plays. The gasp inducing errors. The BASEBALL, my friends.

And so I have reeled in my over anxious approach to watching, sat back and enjoyed this Cardinal run of luck. It may not last the whole series – although they only have to win one more to enjoy the coveted “Whole Enchilada” – but I am willing to bet that every minute of watching will be better than an all beef frank.

Play ball!