A seemingly infinite 'whoo!'
Holy crap! Jeff Weaver! That prolonged hangover was well worth it. I do not claim to be among those who have genuinely waited 24 years for a World Series championship – but I’ve waited nearly 10 years. Since moving to St. Louis, I’ve watched nearly every single Cardinals game. The first couple of years I spent here coincided with the arrival of Mark McGwire and that hastened my rapidly-growing attraction to the team. I always liked the Cardinals and watched them as much as possible while growing up, but was a Royals fan into the late 1980s. The 90s – until 1996 – had me in Columbia, Mo. where I did not follow MLB that closely, especially after the strike. But as soon as I stepped foot into the offices of The Sporting News (where I worked for 4-plus years) I latched on for good.
So I’ve had plenty of painful Cardinals playoff moments the past decade. At least enough to make Adam Wainwright’s series-clinching strikeout one of the best moments of my sports life. A defining image and one that led to the best night I have ever spent in downtown St. Louis (with apologies to the great concerts I’ve seen at the Fabulous Fox Theatre). My journey began at Al Hrabosky’s Ballpark Saloon but once my friends arrived (all girls) it was clear we needed to move. Suffocating crowds will do that. So, it was onto Kilroy’s, where we had loud audio outside where we could also see the plasma TVs above the bar inside the joint. Great view of the game with clear sound for those tall enough. Frustrating at times for others. But we were right across the street from the stadium and could even hear the fans at certain times.
The final out led to a complete melee and it was glorious. Having beer dripping from your hair, beard and glasses is a pretty rare public experience. Really, anytime it becomes socially acceptable to pour beer on the head of a stranger is a good time. The high fives, yelling, hugging and partying went on deep into the night as the lovefest continued. I lost my voice, incurred mild injuries and drank until my balance was in question. I called about everyone I could think of, met up with Will (Deadspin.com) from New York, danced around the Stan Musial statue and drank beer inside the restrooms at pubs.
I woke up with beer hair. Surrounded my newspapers copies saying CHAMPIONS. Yes, I had a headache. But I was relieved from my baseball heartache.
So I’ve had plenty of painful Cardinals playoff moments the past decade. At least enough to make Adam Wainwright’s series-clinching strikeout one of the best moments of my sports life. A defining image and one that led to the best night I have ever spent in downtown St. Louis (with apologies to the great concerts I’ve seen at the Fabulous Fox Theatre). My journey began at Al Hrabosky’s Ballpark Saloon but once my friends arrived (all girls) it was clear we needed to move. Suffocating crowds will do that. So, it was onto Kilroy’s, where we had loud audio outside where we could also see the plasma TVs above the bar inside the joint. Great view of the game with clear sound for those tall enough. Frustrating at times for others. But we were right across the street from the stadium and could even hear the fans at certain times.
The final out led to a complete melee and it was glorious. Having beer dripping from your hair, beard and glasses is a pretty rare public experience. Really, anytime it becomes socially acceptable to pour beer on the head of a stranger is a good time. The high fives, yelling, hugging and partying went on deep into the night as the lovefest continued. I lost my voice, incurred mild injuries and drank until my balance was in question. I called about everyone I could think of, met up with Will (Deadspin.com) from New York, danced around the Stan Musial statue and drank beer inside the restrooms at pubs.
I woke up with beer hair. Surrounded my newspapers copies saying CHAMPIONS. Yes, I had a headache. But I was relieved from my baseball heartache.