The Plunge

So there I was. A new year, a new opportunity to scarf down good rock-solid-hard-core baseball. And I did that in a big way. It probably helped that we had cable that year, and that my husband bought a fat ticket pack right off the bat as a just-because gift. So by April, I was ready to go.

Of course, things didn't start off as envisioned. Lance Berkman went down hard about two weeks in and never really made it back all the way with his gimpy knee. Although I did get to see him play First Base just once during a Cubs game in mid-May, which gave me a small thrill.

While he was down and out, though, I found sudden inspiration for my next Cardinals hero. And it was long overdue. While I had always appreciated Yadi, this time when I was present to witness his May 27th grand slam – before being removed from the game due to dehydration – I really took note. Suddenly I had two Cardinals' stats to follow in great detail.

Then there was my husband and his Motte-ish beard. Whether it was on the streets of Clayton or at the Cahokia Mounds Museum across the Mississippi, people were asking – and frequently – “Are you Jason Motte?”

There was also that one unexpected delay on the field one night when they played the Phillies and some drunk college kid streaked across the outfield, buck-naked. I sat back in my seat and waited for the disaster to pass through the applause and laughter of the 40,000+ entertained, like old gladiator games or something. That's one way to make the headlines.

But what really made the season sing – if not sting – was October 3rd, two days before the Cardinals played the very first Wild Card game in MLB history. He didn't have to do it – the Cards had already made the post-season – but Mike Matheny did it anyway. He knew it was almost surely Puma's last at-bat as a Cardinal, if not his last at-bat of his career, and so when he sent Lance to the plate as a pinch hitter in the bottom of the 7th, the man received a prolonged, enthusiastic, and well-respected ovation that would have lasted even longer if the Reds' catcher had walked to the mound out of courtesy. Chills.

Weeks later, one game away from the World Series: all I remember is the dejection on the face of Kyle Lohse walking off the mound for the last time as a Cardinal through the cold rain of San Francisco. In many ways, it felt like the end of one more era. Again.