Goodbye Winter, Hello Baseball

Au revoir you sorry excuse for cold weather. I'm ready to start my baseball season again. Even while snow covered the St. Louis grounds for the first day of Spring, I was busy basking in the glow of my happiness, for Spring means baseball has arrived. At long last.

Needless to say, last season did not exactly end the way I had hoped. Still, the Cardinals were in contention and that's almost all I can ask for. (A World Series wouldn't hurt, though)

I don't know how I managed to survive the long and arduous offseason, especially the sorry way the Rams and Blues played. I guess I kept myself happy with Pujols finally winning the MVP (mooohooohahaa...)and Carpenter winning the Cy Young (....hahamoohoohahahaa). Take that haters.

I missed baseball so much that I had to edit this post and take out the part about not even caring if I heard about the Yankees and Red Sox. Well, baseball season arrived before I posted this and I realized my desperation fogged my brain waves. I've already heard too much Yankees and Red Sox and it's not even been a full week of baseball. Go figure. I think my point was I just needed to hear, see baseball and be around it.I just like to have the T.V. on a baseball game, if nothing else.

As far as this Spring has gone, I tried to keep up with the World Baseball Classic. Contrary to a lot of other so called experts' opinions, I was diggin' the whole thing. Seeing the star players on the Dominican team alone got me salivating like a dog with rabies(what,I can say that).I even stayed up one night until 3-4 am just so I could watch a game they hadn't televised until 1 am on ESPN and see Pujols hit a homer and have a 4 RBI game. I needed that. It's my vitamin B. You know, Vitamin-Baseball. ( yeah I said that too!)

As for future news, if you're anything near a Cardinal fan, you know that tickets to the new ball park are pretty much sold out. I swear its been a virtual reenactment of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Every ticket is a golden one. In fact, if you were to see my sister hold up the standing room only tickets she recieved in the mail the other day, you would've thought she had her ticket to freedom or something.

On that note, we, as in me and the other half of my dynamic duo of baseball , Nan, managed to get tickets to a game at the end of April and we also plan on going to Chicago in the end of June to watch a Cards/White Sox game. We initially tried to get Cubs tickets, but apparently all Cubs fans want to witness their asses getting kicked. Fine by me. I'd just as soon watch their asses get kicked on T.V. I kid, I kid, Cubs fans. (but seriously, I forgot what our foots looked like, can you kindly remove them from your arses?) No seriously, kidding. Excurse me..I mean, excuse me.

We also managed to get open house tickets to preview the new Busch before opening day. Yup, we're that nerdy, we got limited, complimentary tickets to a viewing of Busch before it opens for the public. What u gonna do about it!? Oh Snap!

Well, this is just the warm up. Tonight I will finally get to see a Cardinals game. Stay tuned for my review of the ballgame.

Come on back now, ya hear!?

Sports, dinner and celebrities, oh my!

• I volunteered at a Sports Celebrity dinner which raised money for the MS society on Wednesday Feb. 15. Here's how it went...

I arrived there late if you're going by the Central Time Zone, but pretty much on time if you're going by Arab Standard Time (AST)! My friend Sheri, who was supposed to greet guests alongside me at the Renaissance Grand Hotel downtown, apparently got food poisoning. (Don't go to Red Lobster. Which one, you ask? Does it matter?)So I was stuck by myself for an hour and a half waiting by the side door where I would practically fawn after any and everyone who walked by...
"Good evening! Are you here for the Auction?!" God I must've sounded like such an ass.
So there I was for the longest time, all by my lonesome, with only the janitor guy who periodically came by to give me creepy looks, only to decide at creepy look number 6 to make small talk, asking me where I was from.
I told him I was Arab and he stared for a moment, making me slightly more uncomfortable, especially when he said, "Man oh man, you Middle Eastern women are beautiful!" This was the last thing I wanted to hear from the janitor. Well, second to last thing. It probably would have been worse if the words, "kill", "eat you" or "precious" were uttered. Nonetheless, they weren't, so I replied, "Thank you on behalf of all Middle Eastern women." At least I had my manners. (Plus, I'm not one of the better looking Middle Eastern women, but thank you mister!)
I tried to change the subject by asking if he saw many different types of people come by the hotel. I knew he probably did. It was a hotel in downtown St. Louis, but he was stupid enough not to catch on to my purpose.
Janitor: "Sure, sure...all different types of people."
me: "what kind of people?" (God, this is so stupid)
Janitor:"You know, different types", and with a thoughtful look he said, "I've seen Jews" and amazingly, he stopped at that....
At this point I wanted to laugh hysterically out loud, because I thought it was odd that the only type of people he saw at the Renaissance Grand, that he could think of, were Jews and that it seemed like he purposefully said "Jews" to get a crazy response out of me. Apparently, my being Arab might cause some inexplicable reaction to the word. I wanted to explain to him that I wasn't going to pull my sword out, make yelping noises with my tongue and take him hostage because God willed it. But then I thought, "why bother?".
Janitor: "you know, I like all types of people."

me:"um, that's nice."
Janitor:" You don't believe me? Look at my wife" and with those words, he withdrew his wallet to show me his white wife. He was African American.
me:"Wow, I believe you now", I said sarcastically. He laughed. I think he felt I was convinced.
Janitor:"I'll be back later!" And with that, he pulled out his walkie talkie, acting like the use for it in that moment was dire. In that moment,  he yielded all the power in the universe because this device could loudly transmit messages and make beeping noises. It was like Heman yielding his sword high above his head,that pride.

Of course, I didn't wait around to see if the man with amazing conversational skills would prove me wrong and not come back. I went to get a snack and can I just say, this was probably the best volunteer food I'd ever seen. There were rolled sandwiches, cake, water, fruit, chips. In other words, the works. Hello inner fatty awakening in me! It was fitting, since I binged on food on my way over to the event, thinking they'd only have rabbit food or pretzels. Like the true opportunist I am, I took a bag of chips and bottle of water just because it was free.
Now, the next part of the evening is where it gets fun. As part of my volunteering, I was also a spotter. During a live auction, I would raise my amazingly dorky "star on a stick" contraption to alert the auctioneer with the microphone if any of the guests at my four tables were bidding on an item. This star-stick thing instantly raised my dorky level by two or three notches on the dork rictor scale. (Ignore the possibility of my dorkiness already being off the charts.)

I'm not proud to say that the star was huge and shiny. If I took it to an airport, they would've arrested me for fear of this weapon and my intent, as it's points at each end were sharp enough to cut through a penny and its surface was shiny enough to blind any innocent passerbyer. The airlines should update their list of things to look out for and place "star-stick" right on the top, next to "more than 3 ounces of fluid."
Anyway, I feared the worst as the live auction spotter. I imagined myself twitching and flailing my arms about uncontrollably, making someone pay $3,000 for a trip they didn't want. But I was more excited about seeing the "celebrity" guests than anything else. Ozzie Smith was rumored to be on his way. The murmerings of interest were circulating around me and I joined in on the dorky groupiness (yes. The notch went up!).


"Is it true?" I asked a girl I had befriended beside me.

"yeah yeah, he's on his way", she assured me and the murmerings persisted.

 Then there he was in all his hall of fame glory. As handsome and awesome and obvious as he could be. The murmerings subsided as we all stared in awe, as if waiting for him to make his famous flip right then and there. He decidely made a point not look our way as we waited out in the hall for the guests to finish their dinner, or perhaps he was so used to people staring that we were just an afterthought. Maybe both. Either way, we were the unimportant auction spotters. I was tempted to yell, "Ozzie!" but decided my dorkiness had its barriers. I was not going to yell "Ozzie!" while carrying the amazing star-repellent Star-stick.
We entered the ballroom and made our way towards our assigned tables. I was lucky enough to get four tables in the front, next to the head table seating the celebrity guests. OOOooooooooh.  I could not have been happier with my arrangements, I had a great area. Only, I felt very self concious and imagined all my rich, white friends around me commenting on how large my behind was.


I could hear them now..."Look at that Mexican girl's rear end, Richard! It's absolutely horrific!"

"Oh Mindy, you are quite the gem!" (region of tables within earshot of this hoighty toighty remark are heard ha-ha'ing and giggling with rich, unabashed glee)

I was told to make the guests of my volunteering selection aware of my job as their spotter. It was the hardest thing to catch their attention. If felt like I was interrupting their dinner party. I wasn't even sure if they understood me because they would barely respond. I looked at other spotters in the area to see if the same was happening to them and went back to my table intent on getting the message out regardless of their interest.

"Richard, make the Mexican girl go away!"
I looked up from my position to see who else I could identify at the head table. There was Jamal Mayers of the St. Louis Blue. But before I could thoroughly continue acting on my curiousity, the auctioneer began. A few guests at my table were really involved in the first item on the list of items to be auctioned.

Heart. Pounding.

 It proved for some interesting moments, especially when I had to yell for the auctioneer to look my way when he strayed off for too long as I waved my Star a la Stick. By the way, I wasn't being ghetto, this was something I was advised to do before I had gone in the ballroom. We had to "make sure the guest's bid didn't go unnoticed." Sir, yes sir!
For the rest of the evening, though, my area was peaceful. (And by peaceful, I mean disappointing in the inaction). Auctioned items ranged from golf memberships at exclusive golf courses to two tickets to opening day with special seating, a tour of the new Busch before the game and a sit down interview with Mike Shannon and John Rooney during the game.

As my area remained quiet, I was able to identify Mayor Francis Slay, John Rooney, Dick Ford and others at the head table as well. I guess they were using the term "sports celebrity" lightly. Still, I can't say I wasn't happy to see Dick Ford anyway.
I wish I could tell you that Ozzie flipped over to me and we sang a few tunes together, but my evening ended at that. I left the ballroom and made my way out the door as soon as humanly possible. But not before the event coordinator could say, "Thanks for helping out, Bodd-ee-ya", adding her name to the list of thousands who've never missed an opportunity to butcher my name.


My name's been butchered so much that it's rumored the letters 'A' and 'D' in my name are delicacies in Iceland.

Anyway, that was my evening. Hope ya enjoyed. I pretty much did. I would've enjoyed it more if any of the current Cardinals or Tori Holt were there. Either way, still fun.

By the way, I'm definately volunteering next year too. (wink wink)

Confessions of a Palestinian American

When I used to live in Palestine, I would become so frustrated with the Israeli governments policies, everyday terror tactics and demeaning collective punishments that I would promise myself, every day, that when I returned to America I would let everyone know how the Palestinians were treated and how angry and frustrated we were as a people. Keep in mind that the majority of my living conditions ocurred during the so called peace treaty, between 1993 and 1998. Most would say that this was a good time to be a Palestinian, considering our usual living conditions. Sadly, that doesn't say much about the current living conditions for Palestinians.

I'm ashamed to say that once I returned to America, I quickly adapted to the comfortable lifestyle. It seems that not worrying about checkpoints, angry teenage Israeli soldiers with guns and the illegal whims of the Israeli government, quickly got to my head. I didn't keep my end of the bargain. Sure, I have friends and relatively interested aquaintances who I've explained "the situation" to whenever convenient. But my action, or rather, inaction since my return here has been disappointing to say the least. I have to wonder, if living in an apartheid isn't enough to use my freedom here to try to better the situation of the Palestinians left behind, how on Earth can I get anyone else here to make a change or expect anyone else to care.

Convenience has always been one of the practices that I've blamed governments for, in the past. If a situation or dilemma inconveniences a government, they set it aside or ignore the issue, maybe making a statement to shut up the arguers. Unbeknownst to myself, I began to adopt and depend on convenience as well. If I became tired with an issue, I turned off the TV. In Palestine, you can't turn life off. It just keeps going, no matter how difficult facing it is.

Here I am, having come full circle, almost as frustrated as if I were still living there. I feel like I can't even do anything, when I know full well that I have all the tools and freedom necessary to actually do something.

I'm in an almost paradoxical situation. In one sense, I've never in my life been more proud to be Palestinian American. It's knowing that the striving and hardships our people have gone through have made them, and me, stronger. We are so secure in our convictions and belief that the occupation of Palestine and treatment of Palestinians are wrong. It makes us more sympathetic to the causes around us because we know what it feels like and that is truely a blessing in disguise.

It's hard to explain. To give you an example, it's like having someone you love contract Cancer and see how miserable they feel. You know that you must do anything and everything you can to find a cure for that disease. Perhaps this new sense of responsibility will help someone else in the long run. If you hadn't had that person face the disease, you, sadly, would not have cared or sympathised as much , if it did not directly affect you.

In another sense, I've never been more ashamed to be a Palestinian, because I, again, know full well the hardships the Palestinians continue to endure, have lived even a fraction of it and I haven't even been close to doing what I'm capable of doing to help. My responsibility as a Palestinian American is to change what is happening to the Palestinians and I'm not coming through for them. In that sense, I've failed them and myself.

What's even more frustrating is how biased the news is. Even PBS, for God's sake, was doing a report about the Palestinian-Israeli situation recently in which they strongly suggested that the Israeli created "Apartheid Wall" which they built on illegally occupied and confiscated Palestinian land was mostly the reason for the diminishment of suicide bombings and security of Israel. The fact the wall destroyed Palestinians' homes, land agriculture, way of life and separated families was an afterthought. It felt like a footnote the reporter suggested because it was an obligation. It seems like anything the media reports about the Palestinians' lives are obligated footnotes, if any. They've made up their minds. Israel is America's ally and that is the end of discussion.

Here's a few things points of interest ignored by the media...

1.) Palestinians, and frankly the Arab world, view Sharon, Israel's so called warrior/hardliner and Bush's "man of peace" as a genocidal maniac and war criminal. Following the horrendous massacres at Sabra and Shatila, Palestinian refugee camps in southern Lebanon, in 1982 "Sharon and seven other Israeli officials, including Begin, were found guilty the next year by an Israeli commission of “indirect responsibility” for the massacres. Sharon was also found to have “personal responsibility,” and he was ordered to resign or be removed as defense minister."

In one account of that night, "Phalangists killed civilians indiscriminately in the camps. There were no PLO guerrillas, though Israel had claimed there were, so the women, children and old victims were defenseless. Whole families were gunned down or knifed to death. One infant was stomped to death by a man wearing spiked shoes. Another refugee was killed by live grenades draped around his neck.[12] Bulldozers were brought in, mass graves hastily dug and truck loads of bodies dumped in them. Throughout the night, the shooting and the screams did not stop.[13] The killing lasted until the morning of Sept. 18." "The official Israeli commission of inquiry into the massacres concluded that 700 to 800 persons had been killed in the two camps.[14] Non-Israeli estimates were considerably higher. The Palestine Red Crescent put the number at over 2,000, while Lebanese authorities reported that 762 bodies were recovered and 1,200 death certificates issued.[15]" (http://www.thetruthseeker.co.uk/print.asp?ID=187)

2.)Needless to say, the Palestinians were disgusted at Israel's election of Sharon in 2000. In this sense, Palestinians scoff at Israel's suggestion that Hamas, a group the Israelis and Americans have listed as a terrorist organization, has no place in government and that the Palestinians have made a decision against peace. To Palestinians, all the leaders the Israelis have been choosing have had no inclination towards peace. The illegal Israeli settlements built on occupied Palestinian land alone shows the Palestinians that actions speak louder than words. Telling a nation that peace is the only way and showing them that settlements are built on Palestinian land regardless of the legality and ethics are another thing. In an article of the New York Times published on April 14, 1983 "Raphael Eitan, Israel's military chief of staff, speaking of plans to increase Jewish settlements in the occupied territories, said: “When we have settled the land, all the Arabs will be able to do about it will be scurry around like drugged roaches in a bottle.” (http://www.thetruthseeker.co.uk/print.asp?ID=187)

To help you understand what Israeli settlements are, here's a definition from "http://www.palestinemonitor.org/factsheet/settlement.html":

"Settlements are essentially large housing projects built illegally by Israel on land confiscated from Palestinians within the West Bank, Jerusalem and Gaza Strip. These settlements are joined to each other and to Israel through "by-pass" roads, which are for the exclusive use of Israelis and which are also built on privately owned Palestinian land confiscated by the Israeli government. Israeli settlements affect Palestinian daily life and impact long-term Palestinian developmental needs. They ensure that Palestinians live in a continuous state of insecurity and fragmentation and therefore prevent economic, social and political development."

What Americans do not know is that, "The population growth within the Israeli settlements is almost four times greater than that of Israel itself, contradicting any claim that this increase is due to "natural population growth". According to the Israeli Bureau of Statistics the percentage of increase in population in the settlements from 1995 to the end of 1998 was 24.8% as compared to 6.6% in Israel." (http://www.palestinemonitor.org/factsheet/settlement.html)

What's even more frightening, "Built-up Israeli settlement areas in the West Bank cover less than 2 percent of the land, but government planners have intentionally given settlers control of more than 40 percent, the Israeli human rights monitoring group B'Tselem said(...)" (http://www.rense.com/general25/40.htm).

3.) Finally, the Palestinian turnout in the elections showed how hungry the Palestinians were for democracy, something many Americans and Israelis question, when 77% of at least 1.5 million eligable Palestinian voters voted. If so, this shows that 77% of eligable occupied voters living in squalor were more willing to vote than the roughly 50% of Americans, in the most recent elections, living in over 200 years of independence. Although many question the voting choice of Palestinians, I have two things to point out.

1.) one name for you: George W. Bush. There's no excuse for THAT.

2.) Although many view the recent election results as a Palestinian step away from peace, an upcoming Newsweek article I read which can be seen at: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11080943/site/newsweek/, showed some interesting statistics. Among them, "Three quarters of all Palestinians, including more than 60 percent of Hamas supporters, are willing to support reconciliation between Palestinians and Israelis based on a two-state solution." Please read the article, it's very inciteful.

Perhaps I've written much more than people generally care to read or hear about. But if I, as Palestinian, can't even find the time of day to write a blog entry even scratching the surface of the Palestinian issue, when exactly should I expect the rest of the world to care?

For more information on the Massacre of Sabra and Shatila, among countless websites, you can visit:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/2255902.stm

http://electronicintifada.net/bytopic/145.shtml

Top Ten things to do on a bunny rabbits' list...

Rabbits aren't exactly on the top of my agenda list when it comes to writing what I think about on a daily basis. But seeing a rabbit attempt to outrun a truck recently, coupled with having seen a street full of dead animal carcasses (which I fondly recall naming "The massacre on Thoele street") the year before and actually killing a running rabbit the year before that have provided enough inspiration to come up with a new Top Ten list of what bunny rabbits would have on their "To-Do Lists" if they weren't so busy attempting suicide, of course....

• 10.) Officially blame Thumper, of Bambi, for the bunny-rabbits' downfall in society. Punishment? Execute the jerk. Not that things were great before Bambi, but Thumper didn't help by annoying millions. 9.)Shave off my tail. The cute puffy tail hasn't helped my image thus far. 8.) Sue the company that makes rabbit feet into good luck charms, those sick bastards. 7.)Create a birth control pill for all the rabbits. Think of the money I could make. Note to self: Steer clear of paved roads. 6.) Officially blame the Trix rabbit for the bunny-rabbits' downfall in society. Punishment? He has to eat his own damn cereal for the rest of his life. The Trix on you, silly rabbit. 5.) Eat some grass and mess up someone's garden. Note to self: Steer clear of paved roads. 4.) Try to find a gig with the Cadburry Egg Company. It's never too soon for Easter. Remember that rabbit in last year's commercial, the one who looked like he wanted to kill himself? That was my cousin Roofus. He ran across a paved road. 3.) Sit awkwardly when a human approaches and act like everything's cool. Then when the human stops at the sight of me, munch my grass ever so slowly, thinking of my next move. THEN, hop away like a crazy fool and repeat cycle. Note to self: Steer clear of paved roads. 2.)Run randomly across paved roads, especially when I see a large, loud metal structure coming straight for me. 1.) ..................

Life in the Third World

I'm ready to let you know a little bit more about my life. I'm not only a Cardinals fan, ya know. Sure I love that team with the enthusiasm of a fat man at a buffet, but there's more to my life than sports. One of the biggest experiences that have shaped the way I am and how my life has become was having lived in Palestine for five years. Chances are, unless you lived under a rock for most of your life, you've heard about the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. I'm not here to get into specifics (we'll save that for another day). Instead I thought it would be interesting to point out the most memorable parts of my life, living in an occupied country. I didn't live in the best or worst situation, just our own personal situation for that time. Here's what I learned.

• Lizards are really hard to kill. No seriously, they're like Superman. I found myself having to go serial killer on their ass' and chop them into pieces. It seems that they can regrow tails. So, if you're ever in the situation where you have to duel a lizard, go for the head or run.
• British people call garbage the "rubbish". It gets even more awkward when they ask you to throw the rubbish into the rubbish. I'm not judging. It's just that I've never heard an american tell me to throw the 'garbage into the garbage'. I mean, you have to add the word "can" in there or use some variety.
• Misquitos are assholes everywhere. Their job is to buzz into your ear, prevent you from sleeping and suck your damn blood. We should stop calling convicted criminals 'felons' and start calling them "misquitos".
• Water is taken for granted in the United States. There were days when there was water and there were days when there wasn't water. Whenever there wasn't water it was the damn Israeli government's fault and whenever there was water, it trickled down like the anorexic part of nature that it was.
• You shouldn't allow your brothers to roll you in a barrel. Even the empty one that's supposed to collect the anorexic water. I learned that a certain washer and drier sort of experience occurs. If you do intend on rolling in a barrel, make sure you hold onto the opening or you're screwed.
• Guys are very perverted no matter what part of the world you're in. I don't know if it's some sort of need to grab attention or whatever Freudian crap you guys go through, but you will sing, dance or stalk a girl anywhere you are in the world. It seems that there's a little bit of Broadway in all of you. Redirect your talent for cheesey, perverted lines and cheap entertainment into your life ambitions and we might have something.
• Scorpians and Snakes are ,indeed,as scary as you think they would be. They aren't any smaller or less scary than they appear on T.V. and they will probably kill you even if you try to avoid them. I find that throwing a large rock at them from a safe distance is the best bet to kill them before they kill you. Don't worry, there is no guilt associated in their death and someone will eventually brush them off the side of the road.
• There exists a breed of Teenage Mutant Ninja Ants. Seriously, these things have grown to three times their size and they hurt you. They are very aggressive and can probably each eat a pizza.
• Americans don't know what sunsets look like. In America, there's that hot, bright thing that kind of disappears as evening falls. In Palestine, there's a huge mass of a star that sets over a back drop of a thousand scenic colors where you don't know where heaven begins and Earth ends. There's a horizon and everything. It's crazy beautiful.
• You can survive off of oranges. Apparently, as five of my other family members and I moved into our grandparents abandoned, built pre-1967 war, 1 bed room home that's located on the grave yard, my mother forgot to actually buy groceries and made sure to stock up on an endless supply of oranges for the first week or two.
• Graveyards aren't that scary. Um, at least, not in the day time.
• When the government tells you to avoid a certain food item, listen to them. I was told not to drink this fruit drink but was left with no choice when I found myself at school during lunchtime and having only a half shekel (the equivalent of 15 cents at the time) and "fruity" as the only liquid I could afford. Needless to say, I was food poisoned for a week.
• Some schools won't stop selling items deemed dangerous by the government. I mean, what the hell?
• Dogs left on their own in nature go crazy -bezerk, cats left on their own remain regular ol' cats. I don't know how many times we were awaken in the middle of the night by gangs of dogs rivaled only by the 'Bloods' and 'Cryps' of Los Angeles. Cats on the other hand, just want some free food and they're good.
• American candy has monetary value among Arab-American children in the Middle East. We saved our American candy for special occasions, close friends and bribes. These things were the equivalent of cigarettes in prison.

Well, that's all I got for ya. There are many more lessons for me to teach you, but alas, my time is up for today. Look forward to future lessons from...

LIFE IN THE THIRD WORLD.

Doubt? What Doubt?

Ok, so I have to admit, with two strikes,two outs in the 9th inning and the Cardinals facing a 4-2 deficit, at Houston none-the-less, I had my doubts. Just an inning and a half earlier, the Astros' Lance Berkman had effectively driven the proverbial knife through my heart with his three run homer off of Cardinals' ace, Chris Carpenter. "This can't be happening," I thought to myself. The sudden realization of the Cardinals pending elimination, all the hard work gone in 5 measly games and our iconic Busch stadium no longer being of use, had finally weighed down unto my stunned soul. "This isn't over!", I angrily and defiantly yelled to my sister, but the tears slowly coming to roll down my face told otherwise. And so, with those two outs and two strikes in the top of that ninth inning, my sister and I watched the Cardinals' set-up man David Eckstein deliver a hit that extended the game and our season, in patient silence. The only sound to be heard was the room's loose fan, creaking as it slowly rounded, almost as if we were in a hospital room and a loved one lay on their death bed. My sister and I had decided that we would watch the game until the last out, with the plan to change the channel as soon as we saw the game come to an unmistakeable end. We wanted to make sure it was over, but didn't want to watch, or hear, the city of Houston celebrate. "keep your finger on the buttons!", I yelled at Nan. "I know, I know!!!", she yelled back. We were also intent on muting out the play by play anouncers, as they had begun to describe how long the Houston Astros were waiting for this moment. This wasn't a moment to cheer for Cardinal fans. It was one of mourning over the loss of our season and stadium. My sister and I were not going to let that sacred moment become ruined by Houston's jubilation and the broadcasters' insensative comments that were effectively announcing us dead, even as we were still making our last attempts to breathe. Edmonds came up to the plate and I still yelled to Nan to keep her finger on the remote. "Game 6, Game 6, Game 6...", she chanted, referring to Edmonds dramatic walk-off homer in game 6 of the NLCS, a game we had attended a year earlier. "No, No, that won't happen", I sullenly replied. And yet, with the creaking fan above us, we watched, almost in a trance. It was too painful to watch, yet too important to abandon. "Can you turn off the fan?"Nan asked, and in an almost comical way, the fan's creaking seemed to die away as a heart monitor would in a hospital room. But Edmonds drew a walk from the unshakeable Brad Lidge and the best hitter in the game came up to the plate. The game sort of built up for this At-Bat. Pujols had failed to deliver any runners in scoring position both in the 1st and 3rd innings. Still, Pujols is the best hitter in the game and if this game was going to end, at least it would with our best chance out there on the field, in the batter's box. With an 0-1 count, Lidge left a hanging slider for Pujols to hit a monster 3 run game winning homer. Flair for the dramatics? Yes. A beating pulse for the Cardinals? Yes. Two girls screaming, jumping and clutching each other like over-grown infants? Yes. Of Course. Boy was that home-run amazing. Our beloved Cardinals' win left us in a sort of daze. We walked around in a dream-like state, repeating the words, "I can't believe that", over and over again. With the miracle fresh in our minds, my sister and I went off to pray. There was no other way to explain it, it had to be some sort of divine intervention. Even if you don't believe in that sort of thing, you have to admit, that was a pretty special Home Run. Sure the Cardinals are still down 3-2 in the series, but until Wednesday night Cardinal fans can rest assure that our ball park and team are still alive and kickin'. Our big guys pulled through. We turned off that creaking fan, only to hear that towering shot give our team a strengthening heart beat. Andy Pettitte was seen in the dug-out reacting to that Home-Run with an "oh...my..Gosh." Astro fans were heard screaming, "Nooooooooo", in the dramatic way only seen in movies. Cardinal fans presumably all turned their fans back on, in need of cooling down after all that jumping and hollering they endured, explaining to each other the moment they knew we still had a shot at this thing. Then, slumped in exhausted relief. Oh my Gosh, indeed.

Prize Photo

That's me on the right, laughing and yelling in desperation for the lady to take the picture and that's Nan on the left, cheesin' and running at the same time. But we got our photo by the champ flags in the forbidden area! moohoohahahaaa