All Star Weekend feels like a dream that happened months ago. It did, in fact, occur months ago but it still has that dream-like quality where sometimes I remember details I had forgotten, relishing the recollection of something I didn't know I had lost.
At fanfest we recorded a hilariously pathetic "buckle up" ad (that I hope no one ever finds on the internet), took pictures in a dug out and on a baseball card that I took home, posed as if we were robbing home runs with Edmonds-ish over the wall catches, and received free tacos (thanks Taco Bell).
The Home Run Derby held its own magic. Not wanting to go home but running out of time to watch it anywhere, the siblings and I took a pilgrimage/speed walk to the center of baseball heaven, Busch Stadium, and found ourselves lucky enough to sit on picnic benches right outside Busch, switching our heads from the big screen State Farm had placed in an open field that used to be old Busch to the loud crowd and jumbotron inside new Busch where we could see replays and live shots. The weather, mind you, was perfection (perfect weather, and not sweltering heat and humidity, in July? This is a miracle in St. Louis) and the stadium was surrounded by baseball fans. It was merry. Yes, I said merry and it wasn't Christmas.
Did I mention I attended the All Star Game? I didn't? Oops. My cousin was leaving town and bequeathed her ticket to me 2-3 hours before the game. The game and pre-game hoopla was surreal and flew by. I can honestly tell you I don't remember many parts of the actual game. I remember the pre-game more than anything else. I can remember the PRE-pre-game standing in line to get in for 2 hours. I can remember the snipers stationed all around Busch. I can remember Obama throwing out the first pitch. Or Stan's underwhelming tribute by major league baseball. Actually, I think, besides the unbelievably loud ovations Pujols, Molina, Franklin and St. Louis native Ryan Howard got (you had to be there to feel how loud it was), that was one of the things I remember most vividly...the great Stan "the Man" Musial coming out on his cart, receiving an ovation, the baseball players clapping for him, then nothing. How disappointing. Here I thought he would at least get a video for everyone to absorb his stature in baseball, but nothing. Well, I took pictures and maybe I'll post them soon. You get more of a story with the pictures than my words. Plus the National League lost. I thought the magic of Busch would come through for us. But here's the thing, the magic was lost on the Cardinals too. And that's our segue...
The Cardinals were swept in the first round by the Los Angeles Dodgers. Ouch. And Matt Holliday, a key figure who was traded to the Cardinals at the end of July and helped propel us to become one of the best teams in baseball, at least record-wise, made a key error in game two, basically misplaying a catchable ball with two outs in the bottom of the 9th and the Cards up by one run. When you lose a superbly pitched Adam Wainwright game like that and go down 0-2 in the series, this is not your year.
Well that's all I have to say about that. What? Thought I'd lament some more. Nope. Done. 2009 was not our year. In the end, one team wins it all and the rest are disappointed. That's the way sports goes. That's not to say the drive home from Buffalo Wild Wings after game two wasn't difficult, it was, and that's not to say that week that the Cards were eliminated, the Rams lost AGAIN, the Missouri Tigers choked in the 4th quarter and the Blues, well, completed the bridge jumping loss-filled week wasn't depressingly sad, it was. But it was a bad week. Gotta look past it and move on. Silver lining: If, as an STL sports fan, you can get passed that week, you're a real fan. You can't experience the highest of the highs without the lowest of the lows. This is what separates the fans from the bandwagoners. Can you spot them now? Did they say they weren't really a Cards fan after all? Check bandwagon next to their name. Use it against them when the Cards get back to the play offs. Because they will.
This is our moment to regroup and accept the simple fact that no team wins every single year. No team. Take comfort with the fact that every single person who is reveling in our loss has experienced a painful sports moment that, when brought up, brings an acute pain to their heart that takes form in the most bitter of words when prodded just right.
There's always next year to go crazy, folks. Next year will bring new heroes, nick names, games that will be embedded in your memory for the thrown seat cushions and Big Mac Land letters knocked into darkness, and witnessing first hand feats of greatness that can only be achieved by a fellow whose name has become synonymous with great. Pujols.
You gotta take the bad with the good , the errors with the web gems and the early departures with the curtain calls. Take a bow gracefully. Get ready for next year's show. Know that when you stick around long enough, you see it all. You see the disappointments, and that makes the sight of your beloved team hoisting that trophy up high above their heads all the more special. ...unless you're a Cubs fan. You will never see that. You might as well go find something else to cheer for. **bows out**
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