Redbird Nation

Posted 11:05 PM by Brian
POSTSEASON POST-MORTEM Every region of the country seems to have its own insecurity. For example, my friend Caitlin is from Mississippi. She has an extremely sharp mind and an extremely thick Southern accent – but no matter where she travels in this country, she runs into people who assume that the latter negates the possibility of the former. And so this prejudice breeds an insecurity among Southerners that the rest of the world sees them as stupid and uneducated.

I live in Los Angeles, and invariably when I meet people actually born and raised in Southern California (a rarity given all the transplants out here), they quickly apologize for their roots, explaining that they’re not as shallow or air-headed as everyone perceives them.

In the Midwest, the great fear is not that we’re dumb or shallow – it’s that we’re negligible. The forgotten. The flyovers. You often see this stereotype in movies. Whenever a screenwriter wants to give you a quick shorthand for Nowheresville, he’ll usually set things in Missouri, or Kansas, or Nebraska.

This is why, when Something Big comes to town, St. Louisans are acutely sensitive – more so than most cities, I think – to what the rest of the world thinks of us. Will they notice us? Are we measuring up? Are we somebody?

Those were the big questions heading into this World Series. And I don’t just mean that in a regional/cultural sense. The 2004 Cardinals had been fighting an inferiority complex all year, from the Big Media types who’d written off the team in the preseason, to the naysayers who said we had too many holes to maintain our big first-half lead, to the doubters who said we lacked enough frontline pitching to go all the way.

So our beloved team – the one that won 105 games in the hinterlands of the NL Central – would be put to the test on the biggest stage imaginable. After all, this wasn’t some backwater skirmish like the ones we had in the 1980s (where we squared off against the hamlets of Milwaukee, Kansas City, and the Twin Cities) – this was Boston, East Coast megalopolis, educational hub of the country, darling of ESPN, trying to win their first world title in 86 years. This was Big Time.

That was the setting as of Saturday night. Five nights later it was all over, with the Cards seeming less like a powerhouse and more like a footnote, or perhaps the answer to a trivia question. And while Cardinals fans are scratching their heads, wondering how this all happened, some East Coast writers are wondering if the Series even happened at all. On Tuesday, for example, Rob Neyer wrote:

Nothing that happens in the 2004 World Series matters. Really matters, I mean... because what really matters already happened, last week when the Red Sox beat the Yankees.

And then today Boston journalist Dan Shaughnessey offered this opinion on ESPN:

"Let's face it, Red Sox-Yankees was the World Series."

Forget for a moment how much this thinking insults the Cardinals. It unwittingly insults the Red Sox as well, by implying that they didn’t do anything to earn their victory over us – it was, after all, a foregone conclusion one week ago.

To be fair, though, this never seemed like a real World Series, if by World Series you mean a showdown between the best each league has to offer. Instead it seemed like the Red Sox were simply playing themselves, playing against their history, the way you might try to break your high score in a videogame. The end result was just terrible for baseball as a whole (the sound of one hand clapping). Or, as Joe Sheehan put it:

As much credit as you give the Red Sox for their comeback, for their pitching, for their performance, this was a lousy World Series. It was a four-game sweep with no lead changes, with three runs scored by Cardinals over last three games. That's not good. Each of the last three games was the same: the Red Sox took an early lead, the Cardinals alternated quasi-rallies and 1-2-3 innings, had a ton of poor at-bats, and rarely mounted a credible threat... The story of the Red Sox is a powerful one, but when you evaluate this Series on its merits, you have to conclude that it was a clunker.

That’s bad news for Fox, of course, but even worse for the sport of baseball, which relies on so many would-be fans out there – the “undecideds” – to get seduced by the kinds of Fall Classics we saw in 2001, 2002, and 2003.

I can’t say this series hurt more than ’85, when we blew a 3-games-to-1 lead and unraveled in the wake of the worst call in sports history, or even as bad as ’87, when we had to take one of the final two games in the Goofydome to win our second championship of the ‘80s. But in some ways this series hit me on a more primordial level. It plugged into that regional shame I mentioned earlier – I couldn’t escape the sense that we were some inconsequential nuisance, something to be passed over, ditched.

Even last night at Busch, after the final out of the series (trivia question: is Edgar Renteria the only guy ever to end two World Series?), my brain was telling me that this was History unfolding before my eyes. I was sitting in the first row too – it was all right there – and yet it felt like it could have been taking place underwater or in a dream (or in the Twilight Zone that Flynn’s Mom was talking about). The most surreal moment of all was when I looked out and noticed, in the pile-up on the field, Mr. Jimmy Fallon celebrating with all the Red Sox players. He was hugging people, whooping it up, and then – here’s the kicker – he peeled off with his girlfriend toward second base and starting full-on making out with her as the Sox scrum shimmied nearby.

I have to say, it may have been the most FUBAR sports moment I’ve ever experienced. I flew into St. Louis to see the Cards win their first world championship in 22 years – or, failing that, to at least catch some spine-tingling games, some great duels between the two best baseball teams on planet earth. Instead I was treated to Jimmy Fallon, unfunnyman extraordinaire, with his tongue halfway down his girlfriend’s throat having his “once-in-a-lifetime moment” on our home field. Ugh. We’re gonna need round-the-clock crews of shamans, fumigators, FEMA aid workers, and witch doctors to get Busch ready for Opening Day.

                                    * * * *

Quick: who had highest slugging percentage in this World Series? Would you believe me if I told you Larry Walker? He hit .357/.438/.929 for the four games and was the only guy to go yard more than once. And actually, if you squint your eyes, Renteria had a pretty good series too – hit over .300, reached base over .400, slugged over .500. Even the maligned Albert Pujols went 5-for-15 with a couple extra-base hits. My point is that some of the Cardinals showed up. It’s not like they just disappeared en masse (even though the team hitting line of .190/.261/.302 means they came pretty damn close).

But when the story of this Series is written (that is, when it’s not the story of the Red Sox and Yankees written by buffoons like Dan Shaughnessy), the undisputed goats will be Scott Rolen and Jim Edmonds. Edmonds got only one hit all series, a bunt single. Rolen was totally whitewashed.

There’s this cool chart that Baseball Prospectus recently put up called Expected Win Matrix. Basically it shows you how your team’s chance of winning changes from situation to situation. Like if you’re batting with one out and the bases loaded and the game tied in the bottom of the ninth, your team should win 90.5% of the time. Ground into a DP and your chances of winning drop to 52.2%, meaning that double play was worth about .383 wins, on average.

If you take each of Scott Rolen’s at bats for this series, you can see that he only had one at bat out of 17 plate appearances that got us any closer to a win (when he walked with runners on first and second and no out in the bottom of the first on Tuesday). Every other AB was a negative. According to this accounting method, Rolen cost us .499 wins for the sum of his World Series at bats – half a win all by himself in only four games!

About the collapse of Edmonds and Rolen, Sheehan said:

I should have seen this coming. Earlier this month, I picked the Dodgers over Cardinals in the Division Series for just the reason the Redbirds lost to the Red Sox. I knew they could have a bad week at the plate if a couple of guys didn't show up, and that they didn't have the starting pitching to carry them through that kind of stretch... Without a complete, 1-9 lineup like the Red Sox have, the Cardinals would rise or fall on the bats of their lineup core. They fell.

I don’t really buy the “shoulda seen it coming” line. The implication is that the Cards rely so heavily on their four best players that if any one or two of them falls, the whole team falls.

But while that may be an apt description of the 2003 Cardinals, it does not apply to the 2004 Cardinals. Last year’s team had no starting pitching, no bullpen, and no hitting outside of Pujols/Rolen/Renteria/Edmonds (except on days when J.D. Drew was healthy). This year’s team had plenty of movable parts, better starting pitching, an infinitely better bullpen, and quite possibly a better defense. And while the Cardinals had a much shallower talent base than the Sox (the prime reason we lost, in my opinion), that hoary cliché about a team having “plenty of ways to beat you” seemed to apply. The Cards won this year via the slugfest (31-13 in games decided by five or more runs) as well as the pitching duel (they won the most games in baseball when scoring only 1 or 2 runs). They seemed to be able to adjust their team on the fly depending on what was needed.

This series was the exact opposite. When our table-setters and our 7-8-9 hitters hit, the heart of our order did not. When Pujols did well, Walker did not. When Walker did well, Pujols did not. When we scored 9 runs in Fenway, we gave up 11. When we held the Sox to seven runs over two games at Busch, we were virtually shut out. It was maddening. Now, I don’t want to give the impression that we lost a bunch of close games that could have gone either way. But I do think it’s striking how the team that had “plenty of ways to beat you” in the regular season found “plenty of ways to lose” in the last week of October.

                                    * * * *

I don’t know a single person who ever believed in the Curse of the Bambino. In fact, my friends in New England were as sick of the “curse” talk as anyone (in some ways that’s been their regional insecurity, since the days of Johnathan Edwards and the Salem witch trials: that they’re hexed by dark forces). And yet...

Sox fans may not have believed in the Curse, but they probably felt it all the same. As my pal Brian Cook put it to me in an email this morning:

Even though I didn't buy into the Curse, it was hard not to feel the other shoe waiting to drop... The summer romance with the Sox each year was like dating a great girl who you knew was going to move, break up with you, go to college at the end of the summer, whatever - you always had that nagging thing in the back of your head knowing that it wouldn't last.

The common take on this series is that the BoSox “reversed the curse,” and were the beneficiaries of all the freaky-spooky things that used to afflict them in the past. In the ALCS the A-Rod karate chop went their way; the broken-bat dunker by Ortiz just happened to fall in and end Game 5; and Bellhorn’s ground-rule double was rightly converted to a homer. In the World Series the Sox benefited from the lousy call on Jim Edmonds for the called third strike in Game 1, and the moment in Game 3 when Jeff Suppan started doing elliptical-training exercises rather than going home with the tying run. The idea is that in the past the Sox would have been on the bad end of these mishaps, and the domino effect would have resulted in yet another World Series defeat.

Yet that’s not at all what happened in this series. If anything, the Sox were on the bad end of a lotta weird shit. Who can forget Manny Ramirez dropping an easy fly ball to tie the score 9-9 in Game 1? Or eight errors in the first two games (some on account of freaky-sloppy weather)? If the Sox lost Game 4, how many people would be talking about Trot Nixon’s phantom grand slam, the one that missed by about a foot? Or about the 8th inning, when the team had bases juiced no one out and didn’t score?

The fact is that the Sox were good enough in all the most important areas that these oddities didn't matter. That’s the key difference between Boston’s win in 2004 and their defeats in 1986 and 1975. In those years the Sox were, quite frankly, not nearly as good as the teams they were playing (the ’86 Mets and ’75 Reds may be the two greatest NL teams of my lifetime). It took everything in Boston’s power just to hang with those teams, so obviously when some weird play came about the Red Sox didn’t have the sturdiness to weather the storm. You think that it wasn’t freaky that the home run by Fisk hit the damn foul pole against the Reds? But the Reds were the better team overall; they could withstand stuff like that, and they closed the series the next night. Same with this ’04 Sox team. All kinds of goofy stuff happened to them this past week -- just as it happens to all teams -- but the ballclub was good enough to transcend them. This is why Manny Ramirez's gaffes in rightfield make him different than, say, Bill Buckner (or, let's admit it, Don Denkinger).

We’re narrative creatures, and as a species we tend to look for turning points, plot twists, smoking guns – even, sometimes, when they’re not really there. Cardinal fans will no doubt look back on the Suppan Surprise or the called strike on Edmonds and say that was the difference-maker. That's why we lost! John Kruk went so far as to say the whole series turned in the third inning of Game 1, when Orlando Cabrera threw that high elbow at Tony Womack. Never mind that the Cardinals outscored the Sox for the rest of the game, in Kruk’s mind that one action had the Cards so scared that they went down like lambs in four straight. But this kindergarten fable ignores all the big “macro” ways in which the Red Sox won.

I guess what I’m trying to say, then, is that the Sox weren’t cursed these past 86 years so much as they didn’t deserve to win. There were really only three years in that stretch – 1946, 1978, and 2003 – where I think you could make a plausible case that the Red Sox were the best team in baseball, and even in those years I think the better team won (not much better, but better all the same). But this year the Sox were the best team in baseball. They earned their win. They weren’t the beneficiary of some lifted curse.

                                    * * * *

So yes, the Sox were better than the Cards – but how much better? This might just be useless hair-splitting, a dumb argument for the Hot Stove League. But I think it’s important to point out that while Boston’s run was historic, their dominance doesn’t represent the “true value” of these teams.

One of the bedrocks of sabermetrics is that players have a true level of ability, and just because a players succeeds over 5, 10, or 20 trials doesn’t mean he's apt to do so in the future. You measure a guy not by how he did in his last at bat, but by what he’s likely to do in his next at bat, or in his next thousand at bats.

Teams work the same way, of course. And while it’s important to know the true value of a team if you’re, say, a GM deciding whether to go all-in or wait ‘til next year, for any given season the schedule can be a ruthless arbiter. Is it any consolation to the 2004 Cubs that they were better than their record indicates? For next year, yes; for this year, it’s just more salt in their wounds. Same thing with the Cardinals. Does it help us to know that we can compete, and should have competed, with the Red Sox, or is that just more salt in the wounds?

Well, the best measure of a team’s true value is the third-order standings on Baseball Prospectus’ stat page. It adjusts team wins and losses according to constituent run elements, strength of schedule, quality of opponents pitching and hitting, etc. By that measure the Sox had 102.8 regular season wins; the Cardinals 98.2. (How you account for the difference with their actual records says a lot about how much you believe in intangibles, chemistry, things like that.)

So if we can concede that the Sox were fundamentally a .634 team, and the Cardinals were fundamentally a .606 team, you would expect the Sox to win any given matchup between these two clubs 53% of the time. That also means that a four-game series sweep was about 8% likely. (That seems high, but keep in mind that the Cards were 5% likely to sweep the Sox.)

Of course, no one but a few stat geeks measure teams by what should have happened. We measure teams by what did happen. My point, however, is that what did happen is an anomaly, and anyone who claims that this series proves the indomitable, everlasting superiority of the Boston Red Sox over the St. Louis Cardinals is an innumerate who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

(Oh, and one argument that’s come into vogue lately is that the American League is the superior league, which is why the Sox won. In fact, I’ve heard at least two people claim that the sweep settles the idea that the AL is superior to the NL. Nonsense. If this were so, then the NL was the superior league last year. The year before it was the AL; the year before that the NL, etc. It’s a silly argument.)

So if the Cards were likely to keep up with the Sox, what caused their downfall at this particular point in time? I think it had to do with terrible matchup problems for the Cardinals. They're a team that thrives on nibbling at the corners; the Sox kill such teams. They have an all-righty starting staff; and of course, the Sox go crazy on righties. The Cards generate a lot of offense via the longball; the Sox kept the ball in the park all year long. Just a lot of headaches for our team.

Notice what I did not say: I do not think the Cards won because they didn't want it badly enough. I might buy the idea the team choked -- that they were too tense or panicky to play well. But if anything I think that's because they were pressing too hard. I'll never forget Albert Pujols at the end of the series, in the final inning.
He singled leading off, then Rolen flew to right. After Kapler caught the ball, Pujols started to tear down the line, like he was might tag up. He was conceding nothing.

And then as the last out was made, Pujols was charging into third, ready to score if the throw got away from Mientkiewicz. As the Sox players poured onto the field two seconds later, Pujols made a wide left turn and walked very slowly through the celebration. I swear he was either (a) burning the scene in his memory, building motivation for those grueling off-season workouts; or (b) hoping, daring some Red Sox player to touch him so he could start the first post-Series brawl in history. When he came into the dugout, not more than fifteen feet from me, he took off his batting helmet and threw it as hard as he could against the wall. That guy wanted this Series. As bad as anybody. And the fact that he didn't says nothing about his character.

                                    * * * *

Another debate raging among St. Louisans today: would you rather the Cardinals didn’t go to the World Series at all, or are you happy they went, even if it meant getting swept? This is sort of a masochistic pastime - like wondering whether you’d rather die by fire or drowning – but I think it’s a no-brainer. Of course it’s cool that we went. I don’t care how bad it went down.

Until this year, the Tony La Russa Era was marked by many fine regular-season teams, but tons of frustration in the postseason. Three losses in the NLCS made us the bridesmaid to the bridesmaids, which was no fun at all. But this year we got over a hump that had vexed us for 17 years. And even though we lost more games than we won this postseason (damn, that’s a depressing thought), we were still very successful in October. We won the first two rounds, had a great, balls-out series with Houston, and came out on top. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

But of course, the bad taste still lingers. Consider this: more major-league cities than not have won a world title since we last won ours in 1982. Here’s the winners circle since then: Anaheim, Phoenix, Atlanta, Baltimore, Boston, Cincinnati, Detroit, Miami, Kansas City, L.A., Minneapolis-St. Paul, New York, Oakland, and Toronto. I don’t want to compare angst here and say that St. Louis is “due” (after all, Chicago and Cleveland are far more ripe than we are), but that doesn’t mean I’m not itching to climb the mountaintop.

A. Bartlett Giamatti once said, famously, that baseball “is designed to break your heart”:

The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.

It’s the death of summer – the subject of some of the greatest pop music, from the Beach Boys’ “All Summer Long” to Jonathan Richman’s “That Summer Feeling” – that’s supposed to make today, the day after the World Series, the chilliest, most hopeless day of the entire year. But I didn't feel as bad today as I'd have thought. The sun was shining, and the nightmare that ended in Busch was growing just a bit foggier. And I swear there was a brief moment, when I walked outside to get my mail this afternoon, when springtime seemed, improbably, just around the corner...

Posted 8:23 AM by Flynn
National Respect

Check out the most recent issue of Sports Illustrated. Page 53 - The Redbird Nation blog gets some love.

I'm sure Brian will have an excellent take on the game but the word from my parents was that the atmosphere at Busch last night was "Twilight Zone."

Hey, at least we got a quality start out of our staff....

Just remember, 28 teams would gladly trade places with the Cardinals today. Here's to a tremendous 2004.

Posted 2:55 AM by Brian
POD PEOPLE It's the middle of the night and I just got home. I'm getting on a plane first thing tomorrow morning, so I won't be able to post for awhile. In the meantime let's all commiserate over that re-enactment of Invasion of the Body Snatchers in Game 4. My brother-in-law Alec said it was like the Cards were throwing the World Series, but they were really bad actors and forgot to make it look like they were trying. Sigh...

Congrats to the Red Sox, and thank you to the 2004 Cardinals for one hell of a lot of good memories.

Posted 9:56 PM by Brian
BEDRAGGLED I've had a long day. Got up at 4:20 a.m., took a flight out of L.A. to San Fran, sat in the airport during a layover, flew all the way to St. Louis, got caught in a furious rainstorm on the way to my parents' house, changed my clothes, got caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the way to Busch, finally made it to my wet seats, and settled in for a few hours of World Series baseball...

And thought, I came all the way for that?

I mean, what was that? It was less a game than an intricate torture device designed solely to drive us out of our minds. The highlight of the evening was -- well, there were no highlights this evening. I guess Renteria's double off the wall gave me a momentary shiver of pleasure. And Larry Walker's home run would have been glorious and grand, in a different context.

Right now I feel down, depressed, sad, beat, disilllusioned, carried along the four stages of baseball grief -- from "let's win it all" to "let's make it a good series" to "let's not get swept" to "let's at least lose with dignity." I'm not quite at Stage 4 yet. I'm still hoping for a win tomorrow night, one last glimpse of the fine baseball team I followed for the first 173 games of the season. But I've already tightened my stomach and prepared for the worst.

I said before this series began that no matter what happens, we'll never forget this week as long as we live. And sure enough, I'll remember tonight's baserunning snafu by Jeff Suppan 'til the day I die. It's the touchstone for the entire series -- equal parts fluky and inept.

You all know what happened: Suppan was on third with no outs, and Larry Walker hit a slow roller to the right side with Boston playing back and conceding the run. And for whatever reason Suppan simply didn't go home, instead dancing like a yo-yo down the third-base line, seized by a moment of temporary insanity. First baseman David Ortiz made the easy toss over to Mueller and Soup was gunned out. So instead of it being tie game, runner on third (Edgar Renteria moving over from second), Albert Pujols at the dish with one out, it was runner on second, two outs, Red Sox maintain their lead.

How this happened isn't totally clear. Supposedly third-base coach Jose Oquendo was shouting to Suppan "go go go" and Soup heard it as "no no no," so he put on the brakes. But this explanation only gets us partway there. After all, any major leaguer worth his salt knows you run on contact on balls hit to the right side and the defense back, and getting bamboozled by your third-base coach is something that shouldn't happen in any league above tee ball. The irony, of course, is that the National League team was supposed to have an advantage when it came to pitchers hitting and running the bases. Nope. Worse yet, it was David "Born to DH" Ortiz making the play to nab Suppan. So much for the home-field edge.

Speaking of losing the home-field edge, that one play wiped out the crowd entirely. From the pregame to the first pitch, right through Manny's home run and Walker caught at that plate, Busch Stadium was totally enthusiastic -- roaring, chanting, trying to will the team to victory. But with Suppan's gaffe, a pall settled over the crowd. I hesitate to use this word, but it seemed almost supernatural, as if it were the Cardinals who were surely cursed. (That reminds me of why Richard Pryor didn't want to give mouth-to-mouth to a dying man: "Because Death might jump outta him and into me!" You don't want to be the ones to revive the Sox, because the Curse might just jump outta them and into you!)

Now, I want to be clear about something I said earlier. The blunder at third tonight -- call it the Suppan Surprise -- was emblematic of what went wrong with the Cards, but it's not the reason they lost tonight's game. The reason we lost tonight's game was one Pedro J. Martinez. Pedro no longer has that knee-buckling curve he had a couple years ago, nor does he have the same high-90s heater. But I don't think I've ever -- and I mean ever, in all my years as a baseball fan -- seen a guy change speeds better than he did tonight. He's mystifying. His windup, arm angle, point of delivery, everything, looks the exact same on a 92-mph fastball as it does on a 76-mph change. Which means if you can get inside the heads of the hitters you're facing and out-guess them all night long (and make no mistake, Pedro is one crafty bastard), then you don't need great "stuff" to succeed. The stuff between your ears is all you really need. (Jesus, I sound like I'm turning into Johnny Sain.)

At the end of the day we can bitch and moan about Suppan's blunder, and Larry Walker getting thrown out at the plate, and Scott Rolen continuing his impersonation of Scott Baio, but you've got to tip your cap to the team we're playing. We're just getting flat-out beat.

Now, one last thing, and it's the only thing that made it difficult for me to tip my cap to the Sox tonight. And that's the Red Sox fan who was sitting two rows behind me. In fact, there were quite a number of Sox fans around me tonight; and yes, they were very loud and not at all bashful about supporting their team. None of that bothered me. What did bother me is the guy who screamed and yelled -- I kid you not -- on every single pitch of tonight's game. Doesn't matter whether it was Bill Mueller's double or a swing and a miss from David Ortiz, this guy was all over it. Here's a sample:

Guy (after a weak foul from Johnny Damon): "Way to get a piece, Johnny D.! J.D.! You the man now, J.D.! Give us something! Kick their ass now, J.D.! Wooooooooo!"

or

Guy (after a ball from Pedro thrown a foot out of the strike zone): "That's right, Pedro! Keep 'em thinking! Keep 'em guessing! You don't come to them, make them come to you! You're Pedro! Who are they? They're nothing! Wooooooooooo!"

After awhile it became clear that this guy wasn't rooting for the Red Sox so much as he was rooting for himself. His need to turn every play into an expression of his own obnoxious personality bordered on the pathological. It almost felt like we lost to the Sox twice -- once in real time, and once to the yutz behind us. Although to be fair, there were two Sox fans sitting to my right who basically apologized on behalf of Red Sox Nation. "Sorry," one of them said. "You're getting a bit of Fenway and the Bronx come to St. Louis." Yeah, maybe even more than a bit.

At the end of the game the fans filed out of the stadium, about as somber as I've ever seen a sports crowd. There was no anger, and none of the edginess you sometimes get when the hometeam is going down in flames and the opposing crowd is eager to rub it in. No, it was just sad. No one thought that this team, that played such beautiful baseball for so many months, would end up in the same discard bin as the '98 Padres.

As the crowd logjammed in the corridors of Busch, a strange message lit up on a side scoreboard: "Thanks for a great 2004 season." I'm not sure how it got there exactly. It was either sarcasm, or an omen, or maybe a genuine bit of gratitude for something that's all but slipped away.

Posted 8:56 PM by Brian
DARE TO INSPIRE COURAGEOUS POSSIBILITY I once temped at an office that was covered wall-to-wall with "inspirational" corporate posters. They said things like COURAGE: Dare to confront that which can only be imagined and POSSIBILITIES: Life's only limitations are the ones we make. Usually the backdrops would have, like, a guy ascending a mountaintop, or a sprinter crossing the finish line.

Kitschy, I know. And yet I'm going to indulge in some corn-fed optimism of my own tonight. See, I'm a pessimist by nature. I expect the worst. I see black clouds everywhere. And that's why, on the eve of Game 3, with the Cards down two games to none, I offer you 5 reasons to feel good about our chances in the World Series:

1. We're back at Busch. You've heard it a zillion times already: the Cards are undefeated at home this postseason. Don't put much stock in that (if anything, that means we're due to break the streak). But what you can trust is the Red Sox road record. As I mentioned in yesterday's post, the Sox are decidedly worse away from Fenway this year. It's not their pitching that's the problem (their runs allowed are about the same home and away) -- it's their hitting. They score 6.4 runs per game at home; 5.3 on the road. Shave off one extra run each game and the Cards might be in business.

Pessimism Alert: The Sox sewed up the ALCS while winning the last two games in perhaps the most hostile playing environment in all of baseball. So clearly they're not gonna get too rattled.

2. We're facing Pedro in Game 3. Two years ago that sentence would have made me wet my pants. Nowadays -- eh. I mean, Pedro has never pitched in the World Series before, and it's not difficult to see him rising to the occasion and getting medieval on us. But Pedro is slightly built, and seems to wear down into October. His ERA the last two postseasons: 5.11. His ERA since mid-September: 6.65. That's enough to give us hope.

Pessimism Alert: Sure, Pedro seems to pitch poorly in the postseason, but that may just be because he usually faces the Yankees. Pedro's ERA against the Yanks is nearly two runs higher than it is against everyone else. And against everyone else he's pretty good.

3. Get past Pedro and suddenly the world looks cheery. Robb from Randon Redbird Reasoning pointed this out -- if the Cards can win Game 3, the rest of the series lines up like this:

Game 4 -- Derek Lowe (beatable)
Game 5 -- Tim Wakefield (more than beatable)
Game 6 -- ??? (Schilling may have pitched his last game of the year)

That's not exactly fear-inspiring.

Pessimism Alert: Is the Cards rotation any better?

4. Defense, or lack thereof. Let's be clear about one thing: Boston's defense is not as bad as it has been these last two nights. In fact, the only thing you can really glean from their back-to-back four-error performances is that they're not likely to do that ever again. However... the Sox defense is generally not as good as the Cardinals' to begin with. And they'll have David "Dr. Strangeglove" Ortiz playing first. And the weather in St. Louis is supposed to be wet and sloppy. Add it up and I think you can expect some more holes for our hitters to exploit.

Pessimism Alert: The Sox have already won two games with as bad a defense as you can imagine, so why should they be worried?

5. The percentages. They're not in our favor, obviously. Rob Neyer estimates the Cards have a 22% chance of winning the series. Baseball Prospectus, using infinitely more sophisticated methods, gives us a 29% chance.

That doesn't sound like much. But keep in mind that just one week ago the Red Sox were given just a 4% chance of winning the ALCS. By that standard 29% looks pretty good. Hell, 29% is about exactly how often Edgar Renteria gets a base hit. If Edgar were up at the plate right now, against an average pitcher, with the entire World Series on the line, would you throw in the towel? Would you say it's over? Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? No, no, and no. 29% isn't impossible at all.

Pessimism Alert: But it's still 29%

Okay, that's all I got. I guess you could throw in there that the Cards bats figure to wake up a bit, but you know all that. I'm heading to St. Louis on a 6 a.m. flight tomorrow morning, and I'll be attending Games 3 and 4 in person. So posting might be lighter and slower than usual, but I'll still write when I can. In the meantime, cross your fingers and toes. I don't want to travel 1800 miles just to go to a dinner party with cardinal as the main course.

Posted 7:41 PM by Brian

BLOODY SUNDAY Rough night, huh? There's not much to say after a loss like this. I mean, sure, we can pick apart strategy and get into a lot of wouldas and couldas, but all that hair-splitting is overshadowed by the very real and obvious fact that the Red Sox are playing well right now and the Cardinals are not. They're up 2-zip; we’re not.

So tonight's post will probably have less to do with tactics and strategy and more to do with my glum mood. I'm just warning you in advance...

It wasn't until right before this game started that I realized Schilling-Morris was a rematch of those wonderful duels between those two in the 2001 ALDS. I guess the reason I almost missed it is that neither pitcher is as good as he once was -- especially Morris. Instead the matchup is like the Pixies reunion tour: sorta cool in a faintly nostalgic way, but nothing to get too excited about. (Although I might get excited if the Pixies did the National Anthem before Game 6 -- now there's a Boston-bred band I could get into!)

I've always had mixed feelings about Schilling. Sometimes I think he's a pompous ass; sometimes I think he's about the most admirable superstar in all of baseball. And sometimes the two opinions co-exist uncomfortably in my mind. Like that open letter he sent out after 9/11 -- one of the more heartfelt things I've ever heard from an athlete. And yet, I'm embarrassed to admit, a small part of me thought it was nothing more than Schilling grandstanding again. And then there was the time Schilling showed up at the memorial service for Darryl Kile in St. Louis. Mind you, Schill didn't really know Kile. They'd been teammates back in '91, but that was it. Yet Schilling flew to St. Louis anyway, because he considers everyone in baseball his brother, and he wanted to pay his respects in person. 99% of me thought you couldn't find a classier move in all of sports. 1% of me thought Schilling just wanted to show the world what a great guy he was.

But in the end it's the better part of Schilling's nature that wins out for me. For one simple reason: because whether he's altruistic or self-absorbed, whether he's authentic or simply posturing, he always comes across to me as a full-blooded human being, clearly a well-rounded poerson with a life outside of baseball. That's rare in sports, and great for the game.

What does any of that have to do with tonight's showdown? I don't know; not much. But it would be foolish to pretend those thoughts don't go through our heads as we watch these games. They become intensely personal contests, whether we care to admit it or not. (Jesus, I just heard myself say that in the voice of Tim McCarver -- that means it's time to move on...)

The record won't show it, but I thought Schilling was much better tonight than he was last Tuesday in the Bronx. That night he got by on sheer guile. Tonight he got by on guile, a good fastball, and a sharper breaking pitch. Apart from a slightly hobbled gait walking off the mound in the 4th, I saw no effects from his bad ankle, and I couldn't have said that after Game 6 of the ALCS.

So: should the Cardinals have bunted on Schilling? After all, he's gimpy, the field was slick, and there were plenty of moments (I'm thinking of Marlon Anderson leading off the top of the third) when it would have made sense. But the Cardinals never so much as squared. Why? Two guesses: (1) Mueller looked to be shading in all night in anticipation of this very strategy, so perhaps a bunt wouldn't have done any good (although with Mueller's glovework it may have been smart to give it a whirl); or (2) La Russa didn't want to exploit Schilling's injury because, well, that's just not "Cardinal baseball."

Point (1) I buy, but not point (2). After all, did the Astros lay off Steve Kline's hanging breaking pitches because they were byproducts of his injured finger? No. Should David Ortiz have stopped running to first last night because Tony Womack was down on the field? Of course not. As cutthroat as it sounds, I'd would like to have seen the Cards at least test Schilling off the mound.

It's a shame this game didn't live up to its aesthetics. There was the thick autumn air in Fenway, the fans huddling for warmth and camaraderie, the mist steaming out of the players' mouths -- the only thing missing was John Facenda's voice-over. And yet the game itself was a dud, seemingly over by the 4th inning. Oh sure, the media will trot out the usual Schilling "warrior" angle, perhaps try to find new adjectives for "gutsy," but I didn't get an epic sense from this game. The only ABs that seemed very momentous were Pujols vs. Schilling -- two thoroughly self-confident guys who demand to be top dog, going at each other. Pujols won those battles, of course; but Schilling won the war.

By the way, I mentioned last night that the Boston crowd seemed rather subdued, and Hub fans e-mailed me and posted on our comments board that this was because the $3000+ ticket prices had squeezed out the everyday, lunchpail Sawx-a-holic and replaced him with a decidedly frou-frou, wine-and-cheese element. Sorry, I'm not buying it. Tonight's crowd was raucous as hell, even after the game was well in hand; surely the demographics couldn't have shifted that much overnight. So I stand by my original reading. I think last night's crowd was on needles and pins a bit, and tonight they allowed themselves to celebrate.

So what of La Russa's decision to start Matt Morris? It was certainly an eccentric choice -- Mo Mo had never started on three days' rest, plus the damp weather couldn't have been good for his self-described "cranky" shoulder. Morris wasn't horrible tonight, but he was still his usual frustrating self. In fact, the two innings that bit him (the first and the fourth) were microcosms for his entire season -- flashes of brilliance marred by pure slop.

Here's something I want to bring up in regard to Morris... First of all, you all know that he's Jeckyll-and-Hyde from game to game, and you probably also know that he's Jeckyll-and-Hyde with runners on and without. The numbers are eloquent:

                             AVG   OBP   SLG

Morris with Bases Empty     .245  .295  .373

Morris with Runners On      .301  .342  .591

The reason for the split is fairly obvious -- Morris sucks from the stretch. When he's not operating off the full windup, he can't generate enough lower-body push to get any action on his curveball.

So here's my question: shouldn't there be occasions when Morris simply pitches from the full windup even with runners on base? I'm not just talking about bases loaded/two outs. I'm talking about tonight, with Manny on second and Ortiz on first. Are they going to steal in that situation? No. Is there any huge risk by allowing the runners a big jump? No, not really. So why not just go to the full windup? Or what about in the 4th, with Millar on first and two outs? Millar stole only one base all year. He's not gonna go in that situation. And yet, pitching from the stretch, Morris gave up back-to-back doubles to give the Sox a 4-1 lead. I say if the guy's that bad with runners on, just let him pitch to his strengths and suffer the side effects.

This game was one dull ache punctuated by seering jolts of pain. The truly painful moments were all the same. In the first, fourth, and sixth innings the Sox had two on and two outs. And each of those times, like clockwork, they got a big hit (two of those with a two-strike hole). And the hits weren't bleeders either -- all three were ringing shots. One single, one double, one triple, and that was your ballgame.

The Cardinals, conversely, got some ringing shots of their own with two outs, but every time they seemed to be right at someone. The second inning was especially frustrating -- fast runners on first and second, on the move, and Matheny smokes the ball... right into Mueller's glove. I mean, liners off the bat of Mike Matheny are about as rare as Great Pumpkin sightings, and yet this one turned into a double play, end of inning.

Now, I'm not saying this is "bad luck" -- after all, positiong is part of baseball too, and it's not like the Cards hit any balls as hard as Bellhorn's double or Varitek's triple. But it was one of those maddening games where you thought, if this hit was just a hair to the right, or if that pitch was just a touch outside, then we might have had a real game.

The Cards may make a series out of this, but if so I have no idea where their pitching is going to come from. Last night the staff threw 190 pitches, and the Red Sox hitters whiffed on exactly nine of them. Tonight we threw 166 pitches and they swung and missed -- you guessed it -- only nine times. There are some very bad elements at play in this series, like a low-pressure system colliding with a high-pressure system to create a tornado. And one of them is that the Cardinals have very few pitchers who can make people swing and miss -- they survive by getting people to chase bad pitches while letting our defense do the work. The Sox, however, don't swing at bad pitches, and don't put the ball in play unless they need to. The end result is a lot of favorable counts and a lot of base on balls for the other guys. In the two games, Cards pitchers issued a whopping 14 walks -- and this from a team that handed out the third fewest free passes in all of baseball. When your strengths turn into weaknesses, well, that's called trouble.

Okay, I have to break this dour mood by telling you one thing that I truly enjoy, and that's the moment after Scott Rolen scoops up a sharp grounder but before he fires it over to first base. That split-second as he cocks his hips, before he unloads, is sheer pleasure. It reminds me of some lines from the poet Stephen Dunn: "I love the moment / at the races when they're all in the gate, / such power / not yet loose..." (And then a few lines later Dunn hits us with this one: "I love something to yell for, / something to bet my sweet life on / again and again." I hear ya, buddy.)

Why was Jason Marquis pitching in the 7th inning? Joe Buck suggested it was so he could work on his sinker (which has abandoned him this postseason) in a non-pressure situation. The unstated assumption is that Marquis will still start on Wednesday night. That only gives him two days rest, but today is Marquis' "throw day" anyway; and with only 25 pitches delivered tonight, starting Game 4 is very doable.

But I'm not so sure Buck has this one right. I think it's quite possible that we'll see Danny Haren, and not Jason Marquis, pitching on Wednesday. Both Bernie Miklasz and Jonah Keri have already advised that the Cards start Haren, and it's clear to me that Marquis is deep in La Russa and Duncan's doghouse. It's not because Marquis is pitching poorly; it's that Marquis is not doing what his manager and pitching coach tell him to do, and then he's making excuses for himself afterwards, defending his way as the only way. For anyone who's followed the fitful marriage of Garrett Stephenson and Tony La Russa, you'll know that Marquis is headed down a bad path. And it would not surprise me if La Russa yanked him from the rotation, especially if he's the only thing standing between the Red Sox and a sweep.

Speaking of a sweep, it seems clear that the Red Sox Curse has very little to do with sorcery and witchcraft and very much to do with their World Series opponents. As Rob Neyer put it recently:

The Red Sox lost one World Series in the 1940s, one in the 1960s, one in the 1970s, and one in the 1980s. In 1946, of course, they lost to the Cardinals, who won more games in the '40s than any other National League franchise. In '67 (Cardinals) and '75 (Reds) and '86 (Mets), they lost to the team with the best single-season record in the National League during that decade. This was tough competition. And this year? You guessed it: the Cardinals' 105 wins during the regular season are tops in the league for their decade.

So what about those 105 wins now? Well, there were times in this game when I felt like Carrie, as in the character from the novel (and the movie) by that BoSox-loving horror writer, Stephen King. If you remember, Carrie is the class weirdo, the outcast who is led to believe, for one night, that she's a beautiful prom queen. But it turns out no one thinks she's beautiful. She's just being set up to be drenched in pig's blood.

Likewise, all year long people said the Cards didn't have what it took to go over the top -- their pitching was lousy, they had no supporting cast, they were playing over their heads, whatever. But when the Cards won the NLCS, I thought they could really do it: succeed at the Big Dance, just like Carrie. It remains to be seen if we'll get doused in pig's blood, but I can sure feel the bucket teetering overhead.

(It didn't help that America's prom king, Tom Hanks himself, showed up on TV tonight to declare his love for the Red Sox. "I'm an American," said Hanks. "There's nothing wrong with the city of St. Louis. They are a lovely people, they have lovely colors on their baseball uniforms -- but come on! I want Billy Buckner to have a good night's sleep for crying out loud!" Two seconds later David Ortiz hit a long drive foul, then protested that it was fair. As the umps were huddling on the field, I half-expected them to turn to Hanks up on the Green Monster. Hanks would yell out, "Come on! Do it for Billy Buckner! Do it for America!" Whereupon first-base ump Brian Gorman would circle his index finger: home run!)

And yes, America really does seem to be loving the Sox. Check this out from Bernie’s Pressbox Forum:

Fox's Game 1 attracted the largest national audience (23 million) for a Game 1 since Game 1 1996 (ATL-Yankees). It was a 26 percent gain from last year's Game 1 between Yanks-FLA. But... Boston topped all markets with a 44.3 rating, followed by STL at 42.3. Game 1 goes to the Red Sox on and off the field. Their fans won, too.

Two ratings shares aren't that significant, but damn, they're not nothing either.

The Cards road losing streak in World Series play has now stretched to 8 games, dating all the way back to 1985. It'll be good to come back home, especially with the way the Cards players were treated by the Red Sox brass. (Did you hear about this? The Cards put up the Sox players in a nice hotel a few blocks from Busch Stadium, whereas the Sox sent the Cardinals to a hotel 30 minutes away from Fenway Park. Real classy, guys.) Not only haven't the Cards lost at Busch in the playoffs, the Sox are one team that shows some pretty extreme home/road splits (they scored almost a hundred fewer runs and lost a dozen more games on the road this year).

But of course, the Sox proved in the ALCS that they can win big games on the road, which means it's entirely possible they've played their last game at Fenway Park all season. Hopefully our boys will show up on Tuesday to make sure that doesn't happen.

Posted 9:26 PM by Brian
SLOPPY FIRSTS Were these two teams really the best in baseball? With both sides trying desperately to give the game to the other, it was finally the Red Sox who seized the moment and went up 1-0 in the World Series. A few observations:

I said earlier today that I'm not thrilled that this Series will invariably be told from Boston's point of view, but overall I'm glad we're playing the Sox. Our last three appearances in the Fall Classic were against Milwaukee, Kansas City, and Minnesota, and at times they seemed like mere regional affairs. This one feels more national, a bigger stage. The stakes seem higher.

But I have to say, the crowd seemed oddly subdued all night long. I don't know why -- perhaps they were expecting the worst, perhaps they were doused by Steven Tyler's National Anthem -- but it wasn't what I expected from Fenway. During the pregame introductions they treated the Cards like novel curiosities, not a sound in the house. And even during the biggest moments of the game they were withdrawn. I would think after a win under their belt they'll come back tomorrow night in full force.

As for lineup selection, I thought Francona made a good choice selecting Mirabelli as his starting catcher. Last night Harold Reynolds advised against this on ESPN (something about it disrupting clubhouse morale, of course), but with the way Wakefield's ball was fluttering tonight, Varitek would have had about four passed balls had he started. No way Varitek would have made up for that with four bases at the plate, especially since Mirabelli hit one off the Monster and can handle the stick pretty well himself.

On the other hand, I didn't like La Russa's decision to start Taguchi in place of John Mabry. My guess is that TLR considers Taguchi a better bat handler than Mabry, and hence he'd do better against Wakefield's knuckler. But while Taguchi is a better contact hitter than Mabes and his BB/K ratio is better, Mabry still gets on base more and is a much bigger power threat. I think that's too much to give up just to get So's bat-handling skills.

As it turns out, though, Tim Wakefield wasn't the secret weapon that Francona had hoped. I got hopeful before the game when I looked at Wakefield's record in interleague play the last three years. I figured that would tell me as well as anything how he'd done against teams unfamiliar with his knuckleball. And sure enough, he had a 7.27 ERA against NL teams compared to 3.76 vs. the Junior Circuit. So unfamiliarity doesn't necessarily breed success. Tonight Wakefield wasn't much better, leaving before he finished the fourth inning. And only a boatload of runs kept him from taking the L.

A lot of those runs came off the weak arm of Woody Williams, who was even worse than Wakefield. Less than one week ago Woody handcuffed the Astros on a one-hitter, with a great inside heater and an outside breaking pitch he was getting over for strikes. Tonight he had nothing, and it was clear from the get-go. He couldn't establish anything inside or outside -- it seemed like he was flinging the ball willy-nilly. Just an awful performance. On the night he ended up with 12 baserunners and only 7 outs.

Why was Tony Womack bunting in the second inning? The Cards got their first two hitters on, Wakefield was looking shaky, and T-Dub was in a hitter's count at 2-1. So what was La Russa's call? Bring on the sac bunt. The Cards ended up scoring their lead run on a sac fly and Joe Buck exclaimed, "that's a National League run at its best." Well, unfortunately the Red Sox just scored four American League runs at their best, and by the end of the night the Cards would need 12 runs to win the game. As Earl Weaver once said, "if you play for one run, that's all you're gonna get." That's all La Russa got, as he settled for a 4-1 deficit heading into the bottom of the second. Yuck.

ADDENDUM: Tony La Russa did not call the bunt. Womack bunted on his own and after the game La Russa said, "That was not a good play." My apologies to TLR.

By the time the Sox had made it 7-2 in the third, I started having flashbacks of Game 1 of the 1982 World Series, when the Cardinals were roughed up mercilessly by Harvey's Wallbangers. I was at the game that night, and I remember sitting slumped in my seat high up in right field, thinking, "this team's just better than us." I had the same thought early in tonight's game, but just as the Cards wound up getting their shit together against Milwaukee in '82, they chipped away in this game, improbably tying the score 7-7 and 9-9. Yeah, we fell short, but at least we know it's not a mismatch.

Are these Sox hitters stubborn or what? They saw 190 pitches on the night, or 24 per inning. They just do not give away at bats. Of course, it doesn't help that we have almost no power pitchers on our staff, making for long ABs (and, at four hours, a very long game). We only struck out 3 guys on the night. With Morris and Suppan going the next two games, get used to it.

As much as the Sox impressed me as batsmen, they impressed me far less as gentlemen. I know, I know, gentlemanliness is a quaint notion nowadays, but what was with that slide into second by Orlando Cabrera, when he came up elbow-first? (Thank God Reggie Sanders reprimanded him the next inning.) The other bush-league moment was Manny Ramirez trotting to first on a tie-breaking single with his finger telling the world he was #1. A one-run game in the seventh and you're acting like you just hit a walk-off homer? Ridiculous.

Fortunately the baseball gods got their revenge an inning later, when Manny made Skates Smith look like Elvis Stojko out in left field. I noticed he wasn't holding up the #1 sign as he was tripping over himself on Larry Walker's liner.

All in all the Cards benefitted from a lot of luck this game -- not only Manny's commedia dell'arte in the field, but also Wakefield's wild streak in the 4th (you know you're wild when you walk Sanders and Womack back-to-back). But they also ran into some awful luck too. First there was the tailor-made double-play ball off the bat of Ortiz in the 7th inning. It ended up hitting the lip of the infield and ricocheting off Tony Womack, not only widening Boston's lead but possibly breaking Womack's collarbone in the process. The Cards got more bad luck in the 8th, when home-plate ump Ed Montague punched out Jim Edmonds on a called third strike to end the inning and leave the bases loaded. The ball was at least a foot inside, the worst ball/strike call of the entire postseason. Now, I'm not saying that Montague stole us any runs -- I mean, who knows what Jed would have done in that situation. It's just a shame that it was the biggest moment of the game up to that point, and the star was not Keith Foulke or Jim Edmonds but Ed Montague. Great timing.

I got a kick out of Julian Tavarez trying to wave Mark Bellhorn's drive foul in the bottom of the 8th -- Carlton Fisk in reverse. Damn. Tavarez has now given up as many home runs in his last four games as he has the previous two years.

Here's a glimpse of the mood up in New England. A guy I know, big Sox fan, had been in phone contact all game with two of his friends back East. The first called him after the Sox made it 4-0 in the first and said, dead serious, "I think we're gonna sweep 'em." After the Cards tied it 7-7, his buddies called him from Fenway and said, just as seriously, "That's the series. We blew it." Hilarious.

There are two ways of looking at tonight's game. The first is that the Red Sox made four errors and issued six walks and yet still ended up whupping us. The second is that the Cards got zilch from their starting pitcher, almost nothing from their 3-4-5 men (oh Scotty Rolen, where were ye?), played their worst all-around game of the postseason, and went into the bottom of the 8th all tied up. I'll guess we'll know more tomorrow which way the possession arrow is leaning.

Posted 10:30 AM by Brian
SAILING INTO SEAS OF CHOWDER I don't have any coherent theme to this post. Just a lot of random thoughts about what's to come...

This is the first "classical" World Series in five years. A classical series, according to my own made-up definition, is one that involves teams that were part of the original sixteen teams of the 20th century. Over the last few years we've always had an expansion team in the Series (Florida, Anaheim, Arizona, etc.). Nothing wrong with that, of course; but I admit I have a soft-spot for traditions that stretch back over a hundred years.

Speaking of odd stats, did you know that the Red Sox haven't won a World Series since 1918? I stumbled across that while researching these teams last night. My first thought was, "no, that's can't be right -- they had to have won at least once in there." But sure enough, they didn't. You could look it up.

The Cards won't start a lefty in any game this series, nor do they have their primary southpaw (Steve Kline) available out of the pen. Guess who did better against righties than any team in the majors? Yep, the Red Sox. By a longshot (an .840 OPS vs. Colorado's .805). Gulp.

The Sox pose matchup problems for us in other areas too. The Cards don't "live and die" off the homer the way, say, the Cubs did this year. But it does provide us valuable nourishment. And unfortunately Boston allowed fewer homers this year than any AL team. Their only real pitcher with a case of gopheritis is Wakefield (knucklers that don't knuckle are basically hanging curveballs).

It dawns on me that the Sox match up so well against us because they were designed with one goal in mind: to beat the Yankees. And the Cards resemble the Yanks quite a bit, I think. Although our middle relief is much better than the Yanks (or the Sox, for that matter), which means this Series probably won't have those bizarro affairs you had over in the ALCS this year.

Did you know the Sox have finished in second place in the AL East for seven straight years? That's wild.

The biggest difference I see in these two lineups is that we concentrate more talent in our top players. Conversely, they do a much better job of getting good bats throughout the lineup. Let's say, for example, that you took the average MLVr (a catch-all offensive rate stat developed by Baseball Prospectus) for each lineup. The Cardinals are no doubt stronger overall -- a .211 MLVr compared to .168 for the Sox -- but the Sox have much better balance. Here's how each lineup slot compares to the team's average MLVr:

1. Womack        -.190    1. Damon         -.017

2. Walker        +.182    2. Bellhorn      -.109

3. Pujols        +.314    3. Ramirez       +.195

4. Rolen         +.208    4. Ortiz         +.150

5. Edmonds       +.264    5. Millar        -.022

6. Renteria      -.222    6. Nixon         +.042

7. Sanders       -.151    7. Varitek       -.001

8. Mabry         -.022    8. Cabrera       -.142

9. Matheny       -.387    9. Mueller       -.098

                -------                   -------

Average       +/- .216                  +/- .086

As you can see, they're more "complete"; we're more treacherous. Some will say that the Red Sox goal should be to limit our Big Four -- if they do that they win. Others, like Buster Olney, say no, you're not going to contain those bats in the heart of the order. Boston should simply accept that they'll do some serious damage while limiting the other guys in the order -- sorta like giving Michael Jordan his points while stopping John Paxson and Horace Grant. The flaw in this thinking: that strategy didn't work at all for Houston.

About that lineup I printed above: I'm not positive Mabry will be our DH, even though that contravenes even the most basic common sense. TLR has suggested that he might go with righthanded designated hitters (I have no clue why), and that Taguchi might start tonight against Tim Wakefield (again, no clue why, especially since Gooch has no patience at the plate and always seems to lunge too far forward -- awful against a knuckler). Please please let's hope La Russa comes to his senses here. The DH should favor us in the series (what with Millar sitting on the bench and Ortiz playing the field in St. Louis); let's not screw that up.

Speaking of odd decisions, I'm not sure why Francona is starting Wakefield in Game 1. If he didn't feel the need to rub the Yanks' noses in the Game 7 blowout by bringing in Pedro in the late innings, he might have Pedro available. But Wakefield is a serious wild card. I could see him giving up 8 runs and I could see him shutting us out for 8 -- it all hinges on that unpredictable knuckluh. No one in our lineup ever sees that thing (unless you count Arizona knuckleballer Steve Sparks; and really, you shouldn't). Another factor: Jason Varitek (and not Wakefield's usual catcher, Doug Mirabelli) should be starting behind the plate. So the more Wakefield's tumbler floats, the harder time Varitek is gonna have.

The Sox seem to have an advantage in Games 2 (Schilling/Marquis) and 3 (Pedro/Morris). But keep in mind, almost none of those pitchers are throwing anything like they did the rest of the year. Schilling is being held together with baling wire and bubble gum, Pedro has been declining for weeks (and I hear he has trouble loosening up in cold weather), and Marquis is a shell of the pitcher he was for most of the season. And Morris is, well, Matt Morris. Who knows. Seems to me the biggest question mark is Schilling. If he's serviceable at all, I think the Sox have the edge this series; if not, advantage St. Louis.

Does the Green Monster help any of our hitters in this series? I can't think of anyone who relies heavily on going to left field, except for Reggie Sanders. Most of our other guys hit well to all fields (one of the reasons we couldn't take much advantage of that short porch down in Minute Maid).

Do you realize that virtually all of Yankee Nation will be jumping on the Cardinals' bandwagon this series? After all, they want to crack out those 1918 signs next spring. Given the huge reach of Red Sox Nation, plus the long arm of Redbird Nation, plus all the Yanks fans with a rooting interest, this might be the most hotly contested Series since... I don't know... 1981 (Yanks/Dodgers)? Somewhere Rubert Murdoch is very happy. (Actually he's probably very happy 24/7.)

Does anyone remember that wild series with the Sox last June, the first time we played them in 36 years? The third game of that series was epic (or at least as epic a game as you'll find in June -- our game write-up is here): extra innings, wild seesaw shifts on the scoreboard, brawls in the stands between Sox and Cards fans. Just awesome. If that game was a harbinger for this series, make sure you wear your kevlar vest.

Bill Simmons likens the Sox victory over the Yanks in ALCS to the US hockey team beating the Soviets:

The best comparison you can make is when USA beat the USSR in 1980... then
they had to win the gold medal 2 days later. Everyone here is on such a natural
high over these past 36 hours, it's easy to forget that there's still some work
to be done.

Let's see then, that makes St. Louis, uh... Finland.

Our friend Will Leitch has a great piece in the Wall Street Journal Online about the Cardinals' fan base (I believe it's subscription only, but here's the link to the main page). Money quote:

Much has been written about the competitive economic disparity in baseball, how small market teams like Kansas City can't compete against major metropolitan areas. But look at the two cities' estimated populations as of July 1, 2003:

Kansas City: 442,768.
St. Louis: 332,223.

The Cardinals do not have their own cable station. They do not have owners who made billions selling their dot-com. They are building a stadium with their own money. They have the seventh-highest payroll in the game despite having fewer people than Portland. Why? Because of their fans. Busch Stadium has passed the three million mark in attendance six times in the last seven years, the team's merchandise sells better than every team's but the Red Sox, Yankees and Cubs and the team is regularly one of the top draws on the road as well. Without such devotion, the Cardinals are the Royals.

They're also the biggest cable attraction in baseball, except for -- who else? -- the Red Sox.

According to the most advanced metrics, the Cardinals and Red Sox are the two best teams in the majors this year, so no need to gripe about the wild card, or fluky teams that slipped through the back door -- this is the best against the best. Also, this is the first Series since 1975 that features the highest-scoring offense in each league. Actually, that matchup -- between the Sox and the Reds -- is a good comp for 2004. The Reds won well over 100 games on the strength of a ferocious middle of the lineup, good D, and acceptable starting pitching. Ditto for today's Cards. The '75 Sox were much younger than today's version, but just as shaggy. (By the way, despite the high-octane offenses in the '75 Series, there weren't a ton of runs scored that October. But if the Series can be half as good as that one -- which many people consider the greatest Fall Classic of all time -- we'll be in good hands.)

While the NLCS was in doubt, a lot of sportswriters were yearning for Boston-Houston so they could make lots of parallels between Texas/Massachusetts and Bush/Kerry. King Kaufman of Salon makes a great point along these lines:

Just as the Red Sox clubhouse -- a Republican oasis in Democratic Boston -- would have made a poor stand-in for John Kerry, the Sox don't exactly work as the poor little team that could... [T]he Red Sox have the second biggest payroll, half again more than the merely upper-middle-class Cardinals. If rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for Microsoft, rooting for the Red Sox isn't totally unlike rooting for Oracle.

One of my frustrations with New Englanders is their constant tendency to frame their teams' successes as the triumph of blue-collar sturdiness over glitz and glamor. That's the running theme of the Sox rivalry with the Yankees, as well as Celtics/Lakers, and it was the dominant motif that emerged from Patriots/Rams.

I think this is bunk, of course, and it's the only thing I don't like about this Series. Seems no matter what the Cardinals do, it'll be talked about in relation to that stupid Curse, with, of course, the Red Sox playing the team that has all the baggage, the big uphill climb. Whatever. The Cards' payroll this year was $82 million. The Sox was $131 million. If that's baggage, then I think it's the good kind.

This doesn't have anything to do with the Series, but a Cardfan named Roger Sachar sent me this email and I want to help him out:

When I was 16 years old, I told my Dad that I know more about baseball than he did. To prove me wrong, he asked me the following question, which I have not been able to find the answer to for the past decade: "There was a player for the St. Louis Cardinals who had a permanant cut on his hand. To protect it, he wore a sponge underneath his glove... What was the name of the player?" My dad was born in 1935, and lived in St. Louis from his birth to 1976. My deepest thanks would go to anyone who can provide the answer to this brain buster.
I'm stumped. Anyone know?

I'm going to be at two of these games -- 3 & 4 in St. Louis. Warning: the Cardinals' record in World Series games I've seen in person is only 1-5. That's right. The Cards have lost only 3 games at home in the Fall Classic over the past 36 years, and I've been there for all of them. And I saw the first two games in the Metrodome in '87, when we were outscored 18-5. So yeah, I'm a black cat, a broken mirror, an umbrella opened indoors. But: I'm on a one-game winning streak (Game 5 in '87), so maybe the tide has turned. Either way, none of us will forget the next week for as long as we live...

Posted 9:18 PM by Flynn
SWEET SIXTEEN

Mishmosh of observations from Game 7:

# of people around Kiener Plaza looking for tickets: 60

# of people near the Patio Bar looking for tickets: 50

# of people near the Musial statue looking for tickets: 40

# of people I saw with tickets for sale: 0

While at the bar (which was mostly people just spilling out on the sidewalk along Market Street) a cab pulled up and some college aged guys spilled out. None wore red. All wore boots. Astro fans. These guys looked very eager to do some ribbing as they made their way through the sea of red. They found no takers. As was the case with the few other small groups of Astro fans, they were pretty much just ignored. Seriously, it was like they were invisible. The college guys kept going up to groups and trying to start stuff with Cardinal fans (and they weren't a-holes at all, they just sort of expected some kind of Jim Rome-style smack talk, I think) and nobody really even gave them two seconds. It was like : "This is our party, you wouldn't understand. Thanks for stopping by. Run along now." I loved it.

Best costumes I saw:

* One lady had a wide brimmed hat that was supporting a huge pumpkin that had "CARDS" carved in it. Encircling the pumpkin were stuffed cardinals.

* Beekeepers hats (pictured)
* The Bee Busters (pictured)
* Mr. Cardhead (pictured)

Best Non-costume

Once inside the park:

He may do it before every game but when he took the field before the first inning Renteria knelt down, Rocky-style, and appeared to be praying out at his shortstop position.

Crossing my mind in the bottom of the 4th: "I wonder what Larry Walker thinks when he hears Ernie Hays crank out "If You're Happy And You Know It" on the organ in the middle of a Cards rally?"

Best early game quote: "I like this year's Fredbird. Last year's couldn't dance. He was weak" - my mom.

The differences between the two defenses is way more striking in person than on TV. The Astros, with the exception of you know who, seemed slow to react to the ball, heavy-footed, and just not that good. As Brian noted, the singles by Edmonds and Cedeno probably don't get through an average infield. The Cardinals, though, were all over the place and seemed to get to everything. There were several fly balls that guys caught on the dead run or at a weird angle, and they caught every single one.

Edmonds' catch was simply unbelievable. Being there, I could see just how far he had to run (backward, diagonally, with his glove on the opposite side of the ball) to make that play. It is possibly the best defensive play I've ever seen in person and certainly the most crucial to a team's season.

Our section was thrilled when Beltran tried to run on Edmonds. We got more excited when we saw the throw because it was strong and on the money. I expected him to be out, but then...

The "Roger, Roger" sing-song chant that kicked up in the 6th is a tiring one. The "Raaaahhhh" part is the worst.

The best word I can think of to describe Rolen's homer is "sudden." From where I was sitting behind third base I couldn't see the ball clear the wall so I quickly shifted my gaze to Pujols to watch his body language. He was pumping his fist and trotting home but I still wasn't sure so I looked over to Rolen, recognized the head-down sprint, and just lost all control. The time between his swing and my recognition of what happened was about three seconds but, as I just described, I remember all of it like a three hour movie. I then felt, honestly, a surge of electricity that seemed to be passing through all the fans. It was absolute unbridled, sudden joy. Phenomenal.

Posted 8:59 PM by Brian
HOOSIER DADDY! So it was Jasper, Indiana native Scott Rolen -- who grew up a Cardinals fan, who longed for moments like tonight -- who came through in the clutch, pounded a first-pitch fastball over the wall in left, and sent the Cardinals on their way to their first NL pennant in seventeen years. No analysis tonight, just celebration. Let's thank this cast of heroes:

Jim Edmonds

His catch of Brad Ausmus' drive in the 2nd inning -- sprinting, diving, grinding up turf with his belly -- is one of the best he's ever made, and that means something with Jedmonds. He doesn't catch that ball it's 3-zip Astros and they very well might be packing their bags for Boston right now. (Oh, and it was a shame Edmonds picked up an error the next inning. As usual, Fox missed what really happened on that play -- the throw had a chance to nail Beltran, but it hit Beltran on the arm beforing skittering away into the visitor's dugout. Edmonds, Rolen, and Suppan all played the ball properly, but it was just one of those things.)

Jeff Suppan

Jeff Suppan outdueled Roger Clemens tonight. You know that, I know that, but I don't care -- I'm gonna say it again because I like the way it rolls off the tongue: Jeff. Suppan. Outdueled. Roger. Clemens.

I never thought I'd be able to write that after 4 innings. Suppan was only down a run, but he was juggling chainsaws from the get-go -- there was the lead-off homer by Bidge, the long drive by Ausmus, the HBP leading off the top of the 4th. Meanwhile, Rocket was buzzsawing through our lineup. He wasn't vintage-era Roger Clemens, but he was hitting his spots with a sizzling, mid-90's fastball. I thought the 'Stros were going to be able to ride that all the way into Lidge Time.

But just as he did in Game 4 against the Dodgers and Game 3 against the Astros, Suppan got stronger as the game wore on. Against L.A. he set down the last 14 guys he faced; on Saturday he set down the last 10 he faced; and tonight it was the final 9. In his three starts this series he's given up only 10 hits (that's cumulative) and has held opponents to a .152 batting average.

Oh, and he also drove in the first Cardinals' run with a lovely suicide squeeze. Not bad, Mr. Soup Can.

Roger Cedeno

Did you guys know Roger Cedeno had 200 at bats this year? He's been virtually anonymous all season long, with nothing on his resume for the last six months. And yet he finally showed up, deep into October, by getting a lead-off single in the 6th and scoring the tying run off Clemens.

But as much as Cedeno deserves our praise, we should also give props to the Astros' middle infielders. The Cards must have hit a good four or five seeing-eye singles this game, nearly all of them just out of the reach of the cigar-store Indians stationed up the middle (that woud be Jeff Kent and Jose Vizcaino). I said last week that even in a short series your biggest flaws will catch up to you. With Adam Everett on the bench, infield defense is a serious flaw for the 'Stros, and it bit them tonight.

Albert Pujols

If it were up to me, I'd have followed King Solomon's advice and simply split the series MVP trophy right down the middle -- half would go to Beltran, the other half to Bert Pujols. But of course it was Pujols who got the bigger hit tonight -- a two-out, two-strike laser off of Clemens to tie the score in the bottom of the 6th.

Pujols is the only hitter in the Cardinals lineup who doesn't worry me with two strikes. I mean, when he falls behind in the count 0-2 he's slugging .575. When he falls behind 1-2 (that was the count when he hit his double) he's slugging an outrageous .712. .712! How do you pitch to a guy like that?

Scotty Rolen

How many of you thought of McGwire's #62 when Rolen's drive landed a couple feet above the wall and a couple feet right of the foul pole? Rolen's blast will go down as one of the biggest homers in franchise history -- up there with Ozzie's and Jack's shots in the '85 NLCS and Kenny Boyer's grand slam in Game 4 of the '64 Series.

Rolen's homer was set up by the good looks our hitters got of Roger Clemens early on. Pujols had six-pitch at-bats his first two times against the Rocket, and Rolen had an eight-pitch AB in the 4th before flying out deep to right center. By the time those two guys came up in the 6th, they had Clemens timed just right. And because Clemens refused to adjust -- he kept going to his fastball all night long -- it was only a matter of time before our big boys struck.

The Cardinals Bullpen

The real story of this series after the three games down South is how the bullpen advantage had tilted heaviliy in Houston's favor. While Wheeler and Lidge were befuddling Cardinal hitters, Julian Tavarez was losing his cool and Izzy was getting bombed by Jeff Kent. But after Kent's homer, Cards relievers collected themselves and shut down the Astros, allowing only 1 run over the final ten innings of relief in St. Louis.

The poster child for this newly composed unit was, of course, Tavarez. How he pulled himself together to pitch these last two days is beyond me. He was pretty lucky tonight -- all three guys he faced got good wood off him -- but he still made quick work of the killer bees, his last out a grounder that ricocheted off his broken left hand. With the glove off, Tavarez's hand looked pretty gruesome, so swollen you could practically twist it into balloon animals. This wasn't exactly Schilling-esque (after all, Tavarez's broken hand was his own damn fault), but it was gutsy in its own way.

In fact, the Cards played a seriously gritty game all night long. Bodies were flying around like there was no tomorrow (and for most of the game it felt like there wouldn't be). Not only did Edmonds lay out to catch Ausmus' drive, but Renteria was swarming all over the field, and Tony Womack -- gimpy back and all -- went tearing into right field to make the first out in the ninth. There was certainly no tightness on this team -- heck, our legs looked as fresh as they did back in April.

The Houston Astros

These teams were so evenly matched that I honetly felt like whoever won tonight was the better team. I didn't think that going into this series -- after all, we were 13 games better than them for six months, so one week of baseball wasn't going to change my mind about our superiority.

But man, they played some great ball against us. When one samurai warrior defeats another, he doesn't gloat over him; he thanks him for giving him a worthy competition, for bringing out his best. These Astros brought out the best in us. And even though I don't feel great about denying them the first World Series in their entire existence, I thank them all the same.

Tony La Russa

He had been in the playoffs four times with the Cardinals -- three times in the NLCS -- and fallen short every time. If the Cards had lost tonight, TLR would probably take with him a reputation as a good-but-not-great manager who lacked the tactical smarts to get us into the World Series.

Not anymore. La Russa did a great job this series. I've griped about some of his calls, but much more often than not he pulled the right strings. And his team is now 112-61 on the year. Wow.

The St. Louis Fans

Midwesterners like to play things close to the vest. Some people have even said that the Midwest (home of David Letterman, the Coen Brothers, Devo) invented the particular form of late-20th century deadpan that was the dominant mood in the country for so many years. Not surprisingly, then, it takes a lot to get us uncorked.

Well, St. Lou showed up loud and proud tonight. They were raucous early on, but really got going when Jedmonds' pulled off his feat of derring-do in the 2nd inning. They were going nuts then, they damn near tore the house down when Rolen went yard, and they kept going nuts long after the game was over. Here's an interesting tidbit: after the game the Busch Stadium jumbotron showed Pujols celebrating in the clubhouse and the crowd went berserk. Then they put Walt Jocketty up on the jumbotron and the crowd went even more berzerk! Those are some good fans.

So now we're... let's see, where are we? Oh yeah, right: the World Series. We have miles to go before we sleep, but for now let's not look ahead but rather soak in the glory of this moment. It's a nice feeling.

Posted 6:45 PM by Brian
THE FAT LADY CLAMS UP My fingers are still shaking, so forgive me if Jim Edmonds comes out looking like Jgh Udmghgns. After 12 innings, 344 pitches, countless momentum shifts, and ten of my fingernails chewed to the bone, we finally got what we came looking for: a Game 7. Winner gets World Serious, loser goes home. So while we try to buckle down and keep it together before 7 p.m. Central Time, let's review how we got here and look at some of the day's biggest matchups:

The Cardinals vs. Karma

Today is the 22-year anniversary of the Cards' last world championship, so there were bound to be some ghosts in the air. The question before the day started: in whose footsteps would we follow? Would we be like the 1987 Twins, who defeated us in the World Series, who won two at home, lost all three on the road, then came back to sweep the final two games in the Metrodome? Or would we be like the 1985 Dodgers, who we defeated in the NLCS, who won two at home, lost all three on the road -- the last on a walk-off home run by a middle infielder -- only to return home and lose yet another late lead in Game 6? There's cosmic payback out there somewhere; but from where?

Munro vs. Clemens

Phil Garner will doubtlessly be ripped for starting Pete Munro in Game 6, and Munro's performance -- 4 earned runs, 8 hits, only 2.1 innings -- gives his critics plenty of ammunition. Only a heroic 9+ inning scoreless streak by the Astros bullpen kept this from becoming a cakewalk for the Cardinals.

Indeed, one could easily look to the decision Jack McKeon made before Game 6 of last year's World Series -- when he pitched his ace on three day's rest and drove a wooden stake through the heart of the oppposition -- as a model for Garner to follow. But I think Garner made the right call, despite today's loss. Rather than throwing both his top pitchers out there at partial stength, he now has his best pitcher, Roger Clemens, going in Game 7 on full strength. Advantage Astros. What's more, it's hard to argue with the decision to start Munro when, all things considered, the 'Stros were right there at the end, this close to sneaking a win and having Clemens and Oswalt lined up to start the World Series.

Pujols vs. Beltran

In this week's Sports Illustrated Tom Verducci calls the NLCS "a glorified game of H-O-R-S-E between Carlos Beltran and Albert Pujols." With Big Play Al's home run in the bottom of the first, he matched Beltran with his fourth jack in the past week. And like Beltran's fourth homer, Pujols' bomb seemed like a form of alchemy -- he didn't even take much of a swing, just sorta flicked it with his wrists, and the ball boomed into the bullpen in left center. Unreal.

Good Matt Morris vs. Bad Matt Morris

We've said it all year, before nearly every one of his starts -- "you never know which Matt Morris you're gonna get." And yet you do know which Matt Morris you're gonna get after about two innings or so. In Morris' worst starts this year (those with a game score of 40 or below) he gave up 2.02 runs per inning over the first two frames. In Morris' best starts (those with a game score of 60 or above) he gave up only 0.15 runs per inning. That's a mammoth difference.

And after only a few pitches today you could tell we didn't get the Good Matt Morris. He only threw one decent curveball all day, and never showed off that egg-falling-off-a-table curve he has when he's really on. I knew he was in trouble in the 2nd, when it took him eleven whole pitches to put away Brad Ausmus. In the 3rd inning he gave up a single, a double, and a run, and was spared further scoring only because of two b.b.'s hit at Edgar Renteria. Then in the 4th he gave up a "foul home run" off the bat of Mike Lamb and, one pitch later, a real one.

In short, Matt Morris wasn't giving us that stellar performance we had hoped for. In fact, I wouldn't've complained if La Russa had yanked him for a pinch hitter when he batted with two on in the 3rd inning.

But then something astonishing happened. With the Cardinals clinging to a thin one-run lead, Morris took the mound in the 5th inning to face Beltran, Bagwell, and Berkman -- the longhorn version of Murderer's Row -- and he mowed 'em down like it was nothing: seven pitches, three weak grounders, ho hum. It dawned on me later that it may have been Morris' last inning in a Cardinal uniform. Not a bad memory to leave us with.

The Cardinals vs. the Jitters

Pujols' first-inning homer had a Nembutal-like effect on my nerves, but the Cards still seemed pretty tight in the early going. Reggie Sanders threw a ball into the infield that missed the cut-off man by two miles, Scott Rolen bobbled an early grounder, and Tony Womack botched a double-play ball. And in general the Cards looked like they were pressing. The biggest sin was Albert Pujols' mad dash home in the 4th, when only a lousy throw kept him from being gunned out by 20 feet.

On most days Albert is an uncannily good baserunner -- the type of guy who take the maximum number of extra bases with the minimum number of penalties. But today it was the opposite. His gaffe was particularly frustrating when you consider that he (a) ran through the stop sign held up by third-base coach Jose Oquendo and (b) left Jim Edmonds stranded in the on-deck circle.

It was at that moment that I got genuinely scared for this team. We just weren't playing what I've come to know as "Cardinal baseball." All season long we were excellent at driving runners home from scoring position. Today we had 13 baserunners through 5 innings but only 4 runs. All year long we've been tremendous at preserving leads (72-16 when scoring first). Today we coughed up yet another late-inning lead. Combined with Tavarez's meltdown the other day, you sorta got the impression that maybe this Cards machine was on the fritz for good. But of course all that changed later...

Renteria vs. the Goat Horns

Did Edgar Renteria show up to play or what? Not only did he bang out three hits (entering this game he was only 1-for-17 in the series), he looked sprightlier than I've seen him all year. Seriously. He was going up, down, grabbing balls to his left and to his right, showing the kind of range he had when he was 25. And after he went deep in the hole and just missed gunning out Jeff Kent at first, he looked to the sky and howled with anger. Never in his six years in the Lou -- not even when he hit that three-run walk-off homer against the Cubs -- have I seen that kind of raw energy from Edgar. Now, I'm not one who believes guys need to wear their emotions on their sleeves to prove they're really playing, but it was nice to see anyway.

Beltran vs. the World

Speaking of emotions, one of the frustrating things about getting beat by Carlos Beltran is that he rarely shows any. He's like Robert Patrick in T2 -- he kills you without breaking a sweat.

After Beltran's continued greatness today -- he hit two balls off the wall and reached base four times -- the question must be asked: is he having the best postseason series of all time? I think he probably is. His line (.476/.739/1.190) holds up against Lou Gehrig's from the 1928 World Series, but he's done it over two more games, plus showed off the kind of baserunning and glovework that I'm sure Larrupin' Lou did not. What about Barry Bonds' wrecking ball of a performance against the Angels in '02? Again, I'd take Beltran, who has more total bases and even a higher OBP than Bonds did in that series. I'm wringing my brain trying to come up with comparables -- Reggie in '77, Juan Gone in '96, Brock in '67 and '68 -- but I think Beltran bests them all. I guess the only more valuable postseason performances have come from pitchers.

NLCS vs. ALCS

Heading into today most media types were treating the NLCS as a mere warm-up act for the main attraction over in the American League. For example, the front page of ESPN.com, loosely translated, looked something like this for most of the day:

                               SOX-YANKEES

                              DIVINE WARFARE

                                ARMAGEDDON

                                APOCALYPSE



*cards vs. astros at 4pm eastern

But I can't really blame the media for focusing on that "other" series -- more people were interested in those two AL teams, plus they have a better backstory (86 years of Peloponnesian hatred), a better unfolding story (Lazarus vs. Darth Vader), and more striking images. (Can you believe that bloody sock? On a Red Sox player, no less?) So only the most hardened cultural communist would demand "equal time" for the National League.

And yet after today I think we're starting to catch up to the drama up East. We've now had walk-off homers in back-to-back games, and we're going to a Game 7 tomorrow night (only the second time since 1973 -- last year was the other -- when both league championship series went the distance). All in all I'd say this is shaping up as the best postseason since 1986. So yeah, we might be playing a less frenzied, more Mid-American version of Sox vs. Yanks, but it's much more than Hal's Autobody vs. Chico's Bail Bonds out in some cow pasture.

Our Bullpen vs. Theirs

Until the ninth inning it looked like we might have our first game of the series with a modicum of bullpen sanity. You had Kiko Calero making quick work of the Astros lineup, and Chad Qualls and Dan Wheeler (whose face reminds me of a young Thrill Clark) one-upping them for Houston. And then Jason Isringhausen marred the string of scoreless innings by doing his best imitation of Tom Niedenfuer. The pitch he threw to Bagwell was the exact same as the one he threw to Kent two nights early -- a flat, first-pitch fastball that didn't run in enough on the hitter.

I was upset all right, but if there's one guy I'd have chosen to beat me, it's Bagwell, who is, after all, practically synonymous with Astros baseball. And besides, Izzy made right by punching out Berkman for the third out (a literal game-saver with Lidge in the wings), then rolling through the Astros in Inning Ten.

All along, while the managers were trotting both Izzy and Lidge out to the hill, the Fox broadcasters were freaking out, as if these closers were delicate newborn fawns instead of men from the same species as Goose Gossage and Sparky Lyle. Clearly they can handle the stress on their arms -- and besides, flags fly forever -- so calm down, Fox.

Lidge vs. Miceli

Brad Lidge is doing something I didn't think was possible -- he's trying to out-Gagne Eric Gagne. I mean, the guy is all but unhittable. Literally. He's pitched 8 innings against us this series, one hit, fourteen strikeouts. Good God.

So here's my question: why didn't Garner bring him out to pitch the bottom of the 12th? If he was just totally out of gas, then I understand. But he didn't look to be out of gas; he'd only thrown 32 pitches; and he'd proven that he could get out the heart of our order with shocking ease. Besides, there was no one left on Garner's bench anyway, so you don't lose much at the plate by having him hit in the top of the 12th. I mean, if you're gonna commit to a guy, commit to him, especially given the ineptitude of your other option, Mr. Dan Miceli. I'm glad Garner didn't heed my advice, but I thought he shrank from the call of duty at the most critical time.

But here's the thing: regardless of how many innings he pitched, I have no doubt Lidge will be available to pitch Game 7, probably for two innings or more, and probably with no loss of effectiveness. He's that good.

Tavarez vs. the Scary Demons in his Head

I don't think I need to persuade anyone of this, but I'll say it anyway: Tavarez is nuts. Even during today's game my parents (who were at the game) said he was running off the mound between innings, screaming like a banshee, and generally looking like he might have a nervous breakdown.

And yet, damn, that skinny em-effer turned in one beauty of a performance today. His pitching was the very opposite of his demeanor away from the mound: composed, controlled, even elegant. I don't know what gods he prayed to to get his head on straight, but he quelled the Astros when we needed him most. I still think he's nuts, but I also can't help but have sympathy for someone who seems so troubled, and I'm very happy for him right now.

Jim Edmonds vs. Dan Miceli

This was the matchup we wanted. And just as velocity equals distance divided by time, Jim Edmonds facing Dan Miceli (lefty vs. righty, high-ball hitter vs. high-ball pitcher) equals very good things for the Cardinals.

Carlos Beltran has been so good that there's been an almost unstated passing of the torch this series, as if he's now acquired the title "best centerfielder in baseball" from Jim Edmonds. Edmonds, of course, has been the best CFer these past five years, and he was clearly better than Beltran this year (he's my #2 pick for MVP after Bonds). So it was nice to see Edmonds remind everyone that, hey, he can bang a little too.

If we can take tomorrow's game, you'll be able to run into any St. Louisan in any bar across the country, or sit next to them on any plane ride, and ask them, "where were you when Edmonds hit that homer?" Me, I was watching the game in my living room, and after Edmonds got all of it, I sat there relieved and content, with the calm of a Tibetan monk. About four seconds later I blew out my vocal cords.

Suppan vs. Clemens

Tomorrow night. This is what we wanted heading today -- a shot against the big guy in Game 7. There are probably some talking heads out there who'll say that the series will come down to "who wants it more," and they may even trot out the Astros' NLCS troubles of yore, or perhaps the three times in the La Russa Era that the Cards made the Final Four but fell short of the Big Dance. But tomorrow's game should have very little to do with desire and grit and very much to do with the bite on Clemens' split-fingered fastball. It'll be fun to watch.

Of course, if you're a Red Sox fan you may be rooting for the Astros, just so you can take it to Clemens and exorcise all your demons at once. But remember, the Cardinals have played a starring role in Boston's drought as well -- twice they beat the Sox in a Game 7, in 1946 and 1967. It could be a rematch for the ages: Pesky/Slaughter, Lonborg/Gibson, Albert/Manny... Let's make it happen.

Posted 5:25 PM by Brian
EDMONDS!!!

Posted 11:56 AM by Brian
PEOPLE GET READY A reader passed along this post from the STLToday Forum. Wish I knew who wrote it so I could give him/her credit, but I can't find the precise link (here's the link to the main page, though). Fun stuff...

NOT TODAY

Busch Stadium is not our house.

So I will not waste your time this morning talking about the importance of the Cardinals protecting our house in Game 6 of the NLCS. I will not broach the obscenity of seeing Houston players spilling champagne on our living-room carpet.

Busch Stadium is not our house.

It's much more important than that.

It's where many of us watched our first game, caught our first foul ball, begged for our first autograph.

It's where Gibby ruled the mound, where Brock ran like the wind, and where Ozzie made all the folks go crazy.

It's where the El Birdos dominated, where Sutter struck out the last batter of 1982, where Mike Shannon has worked since the joint opened in 1966.

The Ol' Redhead managed there. Stan the Man played his harmonica there. The White Rat led us back to glory there. This is where Gussie drove the Clydesdales, where Willie McGee tracked down fly balls, where Joaquin Andujar summed up his philosophy of life in one simple word: Youneverknow.

This is where Big Mac smacked No. 70, where Tommy Lawless flipped his bat, where GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY...BRUMMER'S STEALING HOME!!!!!!!

This is where the greatest St. Louis team in Busch Stadium's history performed. That's right, the 2004 Cardinals. They had the best home-record, the best record in baseball. Right on that field.

Ted Simmons played there. Kenny Boyer managed there. And a beloved old man in a bright red jacket told a mournful nation why it was good and right to play baseball after Sept. 11.

My friends, Jack Buck's coffin rested on that field. Daryl Kile pitched his last game there. And many of cannot walk into that stadium without thinking of loved ones who are no longer with us.

Not today.

We don't lose today.

Not against the Houston Astros. Not against a pitcher named Pete Munro. Not against a wild-card team.

Not in Busch Stadium.

No, it's not our house.

It's simply the place where our memories congregate, where our baseball dreams are stored, where the voices of millions of fans and the ghosts of seasons past await their call to arms.

Folks, it's time to wake 'em up.

Posted 7:19 AM by Flynn
ROLE MODELS In the past 25 years there have been 36 postseason series that went to a Game 6. The team up 3-2 has won 19 of them and the "down" team has won 17. I would have never guessed it was so even. When it comes to Game 7s, however, the scale tips heavily in one direction. Amazingly, the team that won Game 6, and forced the deciding game, has won 14 of those Game 7s. (That’s 82%, Einstein.) Win today, Cardinals, and history is very much on your side.

Here’s a list of the teams who were down 3-2 and won Game 7...

World Series
2002 Angels
2001 Diamondbacks
1991 Twins
1987 Twins
1986 Mets
1985 Royals
1982 Cardinals
1979 Pirates

LCS
2003 Marlins
1996 Braves
1991 Braves
1987 Cardinals
1986 Red Sox
1985 Royals

Posted 8:38 PM by Brian
A WORLD OF PAIN As a baseball fan, tonight's playoff games were pure heaven. In the American League you had two eternal rivals grinding away for 14 innings, throwing everything at each other but the kitchen sink. And in the National League you had something even more astonishing. After all the offense, all the Sturm und Drang, of the first four games, we were treated to a novel concept: an endless parade of 1-2-3 innings. It was so brisk and well-played that for awhile there it looked like Cards-Astros was going to end before Sox-Yankees, which began three hours earlier up in Boston. As a baseball fan, I loved it.

As a Cardinals fan, I'm in agony. It's as depressed as I've been over a ballgame in years, if not several years, even decades. The experience was not unlike being smothered by a pillow for two and a half hours, then finished off with a knife to the gut.

Of course, the Cards aren't dead, but their situation is now critical. It's the first time since June 10th that they're looking up at the team they're chasing. And they must win out at home if they're going to make it to the World Series. It can be done. No doubt it can be done, especially playing in the Red Sea of Busch Stadium and either Clemens and Oswalt on short rest, or Munro in Game 6 and all the marbles on Thursday night. (As I type this, Garner hasn't decided how he'll set his rotation.)

Tonight's game is still sort of a blur to me, but a few snapshots stand out: Scott Rolen doing his Brooks Robinson impression with a sprawling catch into foul territory, then gunning out Bagwell from his knees. Carlos Beltran matching, if not one-upping, Rolen with a running, diving snag to rob Edgar Renteria. Albert Pujols with a diving play of his own, flipping to Woody to nip Beltran at first. Reggie Sanders destroying the ball, 420 feet to dead center, that whimpered into Beltran's glove on Tal's Hill (that's the new place where triples go to die). And then there was Brad Lidge squaring off against Pujols in the top of the ninth -- their best against our best -- and Lidge coming out on top.

But of course the one moment that's singed into my brain forever is the ball taking off from the bat of Jeff F---ing Kent. It was one of those odd, frustrating moments that seemed both shocking and inevitable at the same time. When Kent headed home to mob his teammates he tossed his helmet aside, as if he was shedding all the pent-up emotions that had built up over the course of the game. That's when I turned off my TV.

How did it all happen? Well, of course, Kent's dramatics wouldn't have been possible without the staggering performances of Brandon Backe and Woody Williams, who locked horns in one of the greatest pitching duels in postseason history. Seriously. It was up there with Morris-Smoltz in '91, Blue-Palmer in '74, Gooden-Scott in '86. Heading into the ninth inning, both teams had only one hit. One hit! And these are offensive juggernauts we're talking about.

The shame of it is that the Cards wasted their second-best pitching performance of the entire year (the best was Morris against the Dodgers in early September). If you had told me that Woody would give up only one hit, and only one baserunner that made it to second base, I wouldn't have even bothered watching tonight's game. 99 times out of 100 that's a win, right? Nope. Not tonight. Not with young Brandon Backe, Houston's version of Johnny Podres, on the mound.

Backe was amazing. And not fluky amazing either -- his stuff was flat-out filthy. And yeah, the Cards had some quick innings against him (a ten-pitch 1st, an eleven-pitch 2nd, an eight-pitch 3rd), but it's hard to complain about that too much. I mean, Backe was getting his breaking pitch over at will and hitting the corners like clockwork. I don't think we took bad at-bats so much as ran into a pitcher twirling the game of his life.

The key moment for Backe was his showdown with Pujols in the 6th. The Cards had runners on first and second, two outs, and their franchise player at the dish. All year my brother Sean has been saying, "you watch -- this whole season will rest on whether or not Pujols is the man." Tonight he was not the man. He popped out on one pitch to end the sixth (now that was a poor AB), and for the second game in a row came up as the go-ahead run against Lidge in the 9th and came up short.

As atrocious as our 6-7-8 hitters have been against Houston (6-for-52; thank you, Edgar Renteria), we absolutely need our big boys to perform well to have a chance. Tonight -- for the first time all series -- they did not. For a 105-win team, who busted up great pitchers day-in and day-out, it would be the irony of ironies to have our hopes founder against the likes of Brandon Backe.

As for Tony La Russa, like yesterday I admired two of his moves and disagreed strongly with a third. The good moves were (1) pinch-hitting John Mabry in the 8th (it took Woody out of the game, but you need to score runs before you can even think about winning), and (2) bringing in Izzy in a tie game in the 8th (finally, I thought, La Russa is learning exactly how to run his bullpen).

But the move that cost him -- and cost him dearly -- was walking Berkman intentionally to bring up Kent. I don't say this in hindsight either. I thought it was a bad move at the time; I think it's a bad move now. Consider: after Beltran stole a base and moved into scoring position (big surprise, huh?), the Cards faced one out, runner on second, and -- this is key -- two strikes on Lance Berkman. It was a 2-2 count and yet La Russa walked him anyway.

I can understand his reasoning. You get red-hot Berkman out of the way to face the inferior Jeff Kent, and you set up a force at second and third. However, there's no way that Lance Berkman with two strikes is a better hitter than Jeff Kent. It's not even close. Here were their season totals:

                                 AVG   OBP   SLG 

Lance Berkman after going 2-2   .213  .406  .353

Jeff Kent at 0-0 and beyond     .289  .348  .531

Add in the fact that you could still throw off the plate to Berkman, plus the fact that if you do get Berkman you get to walk Kent and pitch to Morgan Ensberg (hitting .111 in the NLCS), and I think this is close to a no-brainer. If you want further proof, check out Jason Isringhausen after he gets hitters in a 2-2 hole:

                          AVG   OBP   SLG

                         .155  .210  .241

I don't care how smokin' Berkman has been this series, the whole dynamic of an at bat changes when a hitter has two strikes. Izzy was already halfway to an out -- why let Berkman off the hook?

Of course, this is not to say that Tony La Russa blew this game for the St. Louis Cardinals. We just plain got beat by a guy who has more homers than any secondbaseman in history. Them's the breaks. But it's getting beat by that other guy -- the one with six lifetime wins, who spent half the year in AAA -- that hurts so much worse.

Posted 4:44 PM by Brian
ASTRO ASS-WHUPPING The big picture says this series has gone according to script -- Houston's shaky starters didn't last long in Games 1 and 2, allowing the Cards to bomb the Astros' inferior middle relief and take the first two in the Lou. Then the series moved South, where the 'Stros won the two games started by their aces, Clemens and Oswalt.

Yet surprisingly enough, it wasn't Oswalt who slammed the door on St. Louis today. He was off all afternoon, surrendering 5 runs and 12 baserunners in only 6 innings. And Ossy's fastball was so flat that he didn't strike out anyone. So for the fourth time this series it came down to a battle of relievers -- but for the first time it was the St. Louis bullpen coughing up a lead. Kiko Calero and Julian Tavarez got tagged for three runs (including two more homers, bringing the Astros' playoff total to an astonishing 24), while Wheeler and Lidge came in to tranquilize the Cardinal bats. And that was all she wrote. Here are a few of my notes:

Robb at Random Redbird Reasoning called it before the game -- he pointed out that Roy Oswalt, so superior in almost every facet of the game, is vulnerable as long as you get to him early. Check out this pair of stats:

                              AVG   OBP   SLG

Oswalt, pitches 1 to 15      .330  .379  .495

Oswalt, pitches 16 and up    .251  .305  .364

After 15 pitches today the Cards were up 2-0 on a Pujols homer and had Rolen standing on second with a double. Unfortunately the Cards didn't deliver the knockout blow early on, allowing Oswalt -- like Clemens yesterday -- to eventually find his rhythm.

The Cards' management frequently talks about taking "tough at-bats," which is a pretty good indicator of the team's success at the plate. Despite yesterday's loss, for example, Tony La Russa said he admired his team's ability to be patient and to work the count against Clemens. Conversely, he reprimanded the Cards last week for swinging from the heels and taking poor at-bats against Jose Lima. You don't normally think of the Cardinals as a saber-friendly team, but it's the type of thing that La Russa and hitting coach Mitchell Page have harped on all year long (unlike, say, Angels' hitting coach Mickey Hatcher, who thinks there's something unmanly about going deep into the count).

Today, the Cards got it half-right. Our first 15 batters had seven at-bats where they saw five or more pitches against Oswalt. But the last 14 batters against Oswalt had only one such at-bat, including six one-pitch outs. I don't know if the Cards got greedy and went for the jugular, but it was pretty noticeable. Here's how it broke down:

First 15 hitters vs. Oswalt    65 pitches

Last 14 hitters vs. Oswalt     32 pitches

Not coincidentally, it was during those last 14 plate appearances that Oswalt settled down. And although he was never sharp all day, he pitched just well enough to build a bridge to Wheeler and Lidge.

The only good thing you can say about Jason Marquis is that he got the leadoff hitter out his first three innings, otherwise it may have been an Astros rout. Marquis was reportedly upset that he was demoted to the 4-spot in the Cards playoff rotation, but today he further justified that decision. For the second start in a row he failed to make it past the 4th inning; and unlike the NLDS against L.A., he was facing an offense that gave him and his supporting staff much less room for error.

Marquis' blah performance lends credence to the idea that he's either fatigued or too excitable for his own good. I said before this series began that the Cards' fortunes might ride on the back of Marquis' sinker, and so far, unfortunately, I've been right. He was given a big lead and he blew it. All of which makes the Cards miss Chris Carpenter more than ever -- although, as Thom Brennaman pointed out, they won't get any sympathy tears from the Astros, who are without both Wade Miller and Andy Pettitte. If those two were healthy, this series -- dare I say it? -- might well be over.

Carlos Beltran. I'm gonna be seeing that guy's swing in my sleep. Really, I have nothing to add about his performance; it simply defies analysis. He's in one of those white-hot zones that only a few athletes get to -- guys like Bonds, Jordan, Tiger Woods -- where there seems to be no disconnect between what he wants to do and what he does. The only thing that tempers my reaction to him is that there's a guy in the Cardinals dugout who has just about matched him stroke for stroke. It's too bad Beltran will probably sign elsewhere in the offseason, because it'd be fun to see him go toe-to-toe with Pujols in the same division for years to come.

How did La Russa do? He made one decision that I applaud, another that I really like, and one that I disagree with entirely. The good: pulling Jason Marquis when he did was a smart move. Biggio had just singled leading off the fifth, and Marquis was about to venture into the bee's nest of Beltran, Bagwell, and Berkman. Marquis just couldn't get those guys out today -- literally. They were 4-4 off him with two doubles and two walks. To his credit, La Russa stanched the bleeding and went to Calero, a move which worked out swimmingly... at least for the rest of that inning.

The other move I like was bringing in Isringhausen in the 8th inning. "The book" says you don't bring in your closer unless you're either ahead or, in rare cases, tied. But La Russa knew we needed our best pitcher on the mound to keep things tight, especially with Mount Rushmore due up in the ninth inning, and it was a good move to bring him in down by a run.

In fact, I thought TLR could have brought in Izzy sooner, which brings us to the decision that I truly disliked. Julian Tavarez had no business being on a pitchers mound for more than three or four hitters. He started out okay -- got Biggio to fly out, got ahead of Beltran 1-2, and even threw him a nasty sinker at the ankle-tops that damn near bounced in the dirt. The fact that Beltran hit it at all, much less drilled it over the wall in right, seemed to completely unhinge Tavarez.

The next batter, Jeff Bagwell, walked on four pitches, the fourth one nearly taking off his head. (And although I can't read Tavarez's mind, it wouldn't surprise me at all if it was intentional -- or at least semi-intentional, a pouty attempt to scare the living daylights out of Bags.) Tavarez threw the next pitch to the backstop, then intentionally walked Berkman. He then got ahead in the count to Kent before drilling him in the kneecaps. If you're keeping score, that's 11 pitches after the home run to Beltran: 9 of them out of the strike zone, three of them that completely got away from Tavarez. What's more, Tavarez was stomping around, gesticulating wildly, talking to himself, everything but committing hari-kari on the mound.

If La Russa had yanked him there I'd have said it was one or two batters late. And when Tavarez's first pitch to Morgan Ensberg sailed about two feet out of the strike zone, I really thought the hook was overdue. Now, of course, Tavarez eventually got the DP that ended the inning -- and temporarily kept the Cards in the game -- but the way I see it, La Russa got the right result but made the wrong choice. Tavarez basically completed a Hail Mary pass by getting Ensberg on a DP, and the way he came into the dugout (blind with rage) convinced me that he got by on luck alone.

My brother agreed that Tavarez should have been pulled, but also said he didn't like our alternative warming up in the bullpen, Cal Eldred. But what about Izzy? If it's good enough to bring in Izzy in the 8th inning, down by a run, to face Vizcaino, Ausmus, and Bruntlett, why isn't it good enough to bring him in in the 7th, down by a run, to face Bagwell, Berkman, and Kent? You'd still need another pitcher in case the game went into extra innings, but you worry about that if/when you're tied.

Again, it might be a moot point considering Beltran's homer was the back-breaker anyway, but I really didn't like Tavarez staying out there. As my brother Matt said, "Tavarez's performance can be summed up in one word: unprofessional." Put it together with Tavarez's trash-talking a couple days ago (to be fair, it was pretty mild trash) and I'm beginning to remember the headcase I feared we were getting back in January.

On the other side of the ledger, Phil Garner, for the second day in a row, didn't manage himself out of a potential win. The one poor decision he made -- and frankly I don't even know if the decision was his -- was sending Biggio with two outs in the fifth with the Astros down by two. Naturally, Biggio was gunned out trying to steal. (And he was out -- I slowed down the replay on my TiVo a couple times.) Steve Lyons defended the move by claiming it was a chance to get Biggio into scoring position. But my God, Lance Berkman was up -- Biggio was already in scoring position, even on first base.

(By the way, after the throw was made to nail Biggio I thought to myself, "whoa, that's the best throw Matheny has made all year!" But of course it wasn't Matheny, but young Yady Molina. What a rifle he's got.)

Am I wrong here, or was the game supposed to start at 4:15 EST? The first pitch was at 4:41 p.m., almost a half-hour late, presumably because Fox had to show us a wrap-up of all the games in the NFL first. I mean, look, I don't mind that the NLCS is the ugly stepchild of this playoffs -- hell, I even sorta like that the AL is getting all the hype (it allows the Yankees to grow more and more Voldemortish by the day). But delaying today's game in favor of Bears/Redskins highlights? That's embarrassing.

Other than that, I didn't mind Fox's broadcast nearly as much as usual. Brenly was more informative and descriptive than usual, and Lyons and Brennaman were more critical, in a good way. They called out the lower half of the Astros' lineup (even though Raul freaking Chavez had a ribbie today); they argued that the Cards should be pitching around Beltran more (I agree -- dare Bagwell to beat us); and Lyons did a good job describing why Biggio was playing too far back to catch up to Mabry's RBI single in the first. In fact, I thought Bidge was playing too far back on Rolen's single three batters earlier.

Oh, and one more thing I now like about Fox: Scooter, the pedagogic talking baseball. He used to annoy me, but I watched the game the other night with my three-year-old nephew, who's nuts about Scooter. It's the only time he paid any attention to the game. And, really, that's who Scooter is for, right?

So how does the rest of the series shape up? Let's divvy up good and bad. The bad news for Cardfans is that our staff still can't get Beltran or Berkman out (combined they're 14-for-28 with seven homers and fourteen runs scored); they're getting poor performance from the bookends of their Murderer's Row (Womack and Renteria are a putrid 3-for-31; if you're not wearing your wrist calculator, that works out to .097); and lastly, Garner seems to have found a savior in set-up man Dan Wheeler. He's yet to allow a run in 7 postseason innings. And while you don't expect that to continue, Garner will probably keep running him out there until he fails. At this point that might not come on the Cardinals' watch.

Now for the silver linings. People will tell you that the Astros have grabbed the "momentum" in this series, but to me momentum is nothing more than tomorrow's starting pitcher. And the Astros will give the ball to Brandon Backe once again for Game 5. Backe has been sharp lately, but beatable, especially against the Cardinals bats.

What's more, the Astros still aren't out of the woods with their wobbly rotation alignment. They've got Backe tomorrow night, but for Game 6 they either have to throw Pete Munro (not attractive for them) or Roger Clemens on three days' rest (and we know his record under those conditions is spotty). And if they do throw Clemens and this thing goes seven games, then they'll have to use Oswalt on short rest -- and he's only done that once in his career, in the NLDS, with decidely mixed results. The 'Stros can't be feeling too confident about that scenario, especially given the way Ossy pitched today.

Furthermore, just as Berkman and Beltran are going bat-bonkers on the Cards pitching staff, the Cards have done a number on Houston as well. The Astros have scored 22 runs this series; we've scored 23. They have Beltran and Berkman; we have Pujols and Walker (whose hitting this postseason -- .353/.436/.824 -- was the sole reason the Cards landed him after they led their division by 10.5 games).

In other words, it's power angainst power, our Murderer's Row against their Killer Bees. I'd like to say it'll be fun to see who wins, but my experience watching these games -- pacing, sweating, cursing, losing whole years off my life -- isn't exactly fun. I mean, Game 5 on Monday night is probably the most important game for the Cardinals in 17 years. Fun? I'm terrified!

Posted 5:29 PM by Brian
THE AMAZING ASTRONOMICAL HOME RUN MACHINE Like boxers who throw nothing but haymakers, the Cards and Astros have combined for sixteen homers in the NLCS -- that's nearly 3 per game per team. In fact, more than 2/3rds of the runs in this series have score via the longball. The Astros, who won the homer battle today 3-2, will try to even the series tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime I've had exactly five things on my mind:

1. The Astros' chances

The 'Stros came into this game down 2-zip, but I think you could argue that they were in perhaps the best position of any 0-2 team in the history of the postseason. Here's what they had going for them:

They were coming home for three games

They had their two best starters -- indeed, possibly the two best starters left in the playoffs -- going for them the next two days

They'd already proven they could hit Cardinals pitching, strafing us with six bombs and 11 runs in the first two games

The only reason they didn't score more runs is because of poor situational hitting. Hitting with runners in scoring position is not random, but it's more variable than other offensive elements, suggesting that the 'Stros fortunes were likely to change.

It's possible -- just possible -- that Phil Garner learned from his mistakes with his bullpen. He said before today's game that he would be willing to use Brad Lidge in the 7th, or in a tie game, which would improve his chances of winning.

In other words, there was no reason for Astrofans to hang their heads, and no reason for Cardfans to expect a cakewalk.

2. Roger Clemens

Midway through the second inning today -- right after Mike Matheny slapped a single to right -- I began to wonder if Roger Clemens was gassed. After all, the guy's 42 years old, he allowed 20 baserunners in 12 innings in the NLDS, he got cuffed around in his last start of the year against the Cardinals' B team, and he only pitched 8 innings once the entire year. What's more, the Cards were able to jump on him early. Larry Walker hit a booming home run to left center, Edmonds managed to pull an outside fastball over the wall in right, and our hitters seemed to have no problem getting around on Clemens' fastball.

And then something happened. I don't know if Clemens altered his mechanics or what, but in about the fourth or fifth inning Clemens started getting some serious bite on his splitter. He rolled from there on out, retiring 10 of his 11, six of them on strikeouts. So it's pretty difficult to make the case that Clemens is fatigued in any way -- the guy threw 116 pitches and seemed to get stronger as the game wore on.

His performance not only rescued the Astros, it bodes well should the 'Stros need him for Game 7. As if it wasn't bad enough that the son-of-a-bitch cost the NL home-field advantage in the World Series.

3. Jeff Suppan

A funny thing happened in today's game. The Cards and Astros went to a slugfest and a pitching duel broke out. The teams scored 5 runs in the first inning and a half, then nothing but goose eggs for the next 10 half-innings.

Soup wasn't as sharp as Clemens, but, like Clemens, he was able to shake off his crankiness and settle into a groove. In fact, his performance was pretty similar to his game in L.A. -- an early homer, a couple of walks, and then a nice, good, fluid run. Yes, he gave up 3 runs in 6 innings, but in my mind he further justified his spot in the playoff rotation.

His big mistake came in the first inning. With the Cards clinging to a one-run lead and Beltran on second, Suppan got Berkman in an oh-two hole. But he left one out over the plate and Berkman poked a single up the middle. I think Suppan carried that mistake with him into the next AB, for he once again jumped ahead in the count oh-two to Kent, but then he got cute and started nibbling. He missed badly on his next three pitches and Kent was able to work the count to 3-2. By that point Suppan had to come to him and Kent buried a low-inside pitch into the stands in left. That was all Houston needed to win. Cruel game, baseball.

4. Homers, Homers, Homers

The Cards pitching staff did a lot of things right this year -- #2 in the league in ERA, #2 in walks allowed, #2 in hits allowed and total bases, #1 in quality starts, #1 in bullpen ERA.

But if they have one kinda-sorta weakness, it's the gopherball. They were 7th in the league in HR allowed (which is better than average), but their fortunes were frequently tied to keeping the ball in the park. In the first two months of the season the Cards were second in the league in most gopherballs allowed. Not coincidentally, they were only 4 games over .500. When they starting keeping the ball down as the weather heated up, the team cruised, playing almost .700 ball the rest of the way.

This series the Cards have surrendered a staggering nine home runs. This is not a good sign -- not only for this series, but, judging by the Yankees whirligig on my TV in the background, for a potential World Series matchup as well.

5. Lights Out Lidge

Brad Lidge has the same effect on the hometown crowd as Gagne and Mo Rivera have on theirs. While he's in there, the place crackles with energy, from the first pitch to the last. Lidge was no doubt overpowering (even if he relied on his breaking pitch more than I'd have thought), but it did take him 41 pitches to close things out.

The question is: will he be available to pitch tomorrow afternoon? This is not a minor question, as Roy Oswalt has pitched more than 7 innings only once in the last six weeks. Well, Lidge threw 40 or more pitches only three times all year, and he wasn't used once the next day. But I don't know what to make of that, as none of the following games presented save situations.

Three times he was used the day after throwing 35 or more pitches, including once in the playoffs. That's not much to go on, and the results were mixed anyway. Two times he came in, set down the side in order and K'd two; and once he came in and threw one pitch: a walk-off homer to Sammy Sosa. But my guess is that Lidge -- who says "I'm definitely available for tomorrow" -- will be ready to go. Let's hope we score enough runs to keep his mug out of the game.

Posted 8:00 PM by Brian
A TALE OF TWO CITIES So the Cards are in Houston for Game 3 of the NLCS. I've never been to Houston, and I confess I don't know much about the city. So I spent some time this afternoon educating myself about what the town has to offer, and I discovered that it's got some wonderful people and a rich cultural heritage. This chart offers a nice, handy comparison between our town and theirs:

ST. LOUIS HOUSTON
Nickname Gateway to the West Space City
Major Thoroughfare Mississippi River Interstate 45
World Titles, four major sports 11 2
WNBA Titles 0 4
Signature Corporation Anheuser-Busch Enron
Musical Heritage Miles Davis, Chuck Berry, Tina Turner Destiny's Child, Hilary Duff
Local Invention ice cream cone, 7-Up, peanut butter Astroturf
Setting for... The Lewis and Clark Expedition Terms of Endearment
Top University Washington University, ranked 11th by USNews Rice University, ranked 17th by USNews
#1 Sports Fan Nelly George H. W. Bush
All-Time Funniest Resident Red Foxx George H. W. Bush
Ballpark named after... Beer Orange Juice
Literary Legends Tennessee Williams, T.S. Eliot, William S. Burroughs none
Birthplace of... the blues Patrick Swayze
Catchphrase Meet Me in St. Louis Houston, we have a problem
Radio Personalities Jack Buck, Bob Costas, Harry Caray Alan Ashby
# of Olympics Hosted 1 0
Biggest Hoosier John Goodman ZZ Top
Hometown of Wayne Gretzky's Hot Wife? Yes No
Industrial Titan Joseph Pulitzer, founder of the Pulitzer Prize Howard Hughes, crazyman
State Executions, 2004 0 16
Local Phallic Symbol Gateway Arch, 630 feet tall San Jacinto Monument, 570 feet tall

Posted 7:56 PM by Brian
THE WINNINGEST The 2004 Cardinals have now tied the franchise record for most wins in a season. I know, I know, they have the benefit of extra playoff rounds, but I still think it's sorta neat. Here's the top ten:

1.  2004 Cardinals 110

    1942 Cardinals 110

3.  1944 Cardinals 109

4.  1985 Cardinals 108

5.  1943 Cardinals 106

6.  1967 Cardinals 105

    1931 Cardinals 105

8.  1987 Cardinals 102

9.  2002 Cardinals 101

10. 1968 Cardinals 100

And if you're curious, the latest edition of the Baseball Prospectus Postseason Odds Report gives the Cards an 87% chance of advancing to the World Series and a 45% chance of winning it all.

Posted 7:21 PM by Brian
THE MIND OF LA RUSSA Management consultant Jeff Angus, who runs a cool website called Management by Baseball, recently sized up the mind of Tony La Russa. According to Angus, La Russa is a classic seeker. That's white-collar-guru-speak for a guy who constantly presses for every advantage, who goes for the jugular, who bets all-in. The flipside of this managerial type is what's called a raver. No, that's not a methhead emoting to the Chemical Brothers -- a raver is one who tries to win by never erring, by relentless pruning of efforts and behaviors that might generate a mistake.

The idea that La Russa is a seeker sounds right to me. I guess you could say that his use of the bullpen -- which is, after all, his A#1 legacy to the game -- is raver-like in that it's an almost neurotic attempt to mitigate disaster. But to me it's akin to a runningback who has "happy feet." Think Barry Sanders -- he would gladly accept getting tackled for a loss three, four times a game as long as he had a shot at breaking off one good 60-yard run. That's classic seeker behavior, and reminds me of La Russa to a tee. Here's what I wrote about La Russa in a profile from last winter:

La Russa’s strategy is built on getting in the other team’s head, disrupting them. He’ll often go against book for no other reason than keeping his opponents on their toes. I’ve seen him try almost anything to rattle the other team (or rally his own team): he’ll yell at umps; he’ll get himself thrown out of games; he’ll have the umpires check the opposing pitcher for cheating; he’ll start a war of words with the other teams’ star players (Barry Bonds, twice) or their managers (notably Dusty Baker, several times). He will use any strategy to obtain an edge. This is the one area where La Russa most reminds me of Herzog – they’re both instigators, with a taste for wild tactics, men in motion, clever fielding alignments, shuffled lineups, and very high standards for their players.

La Russa doesn't like to sit back and hope for the best. He likes to make things happen. What's great about the current Cardinals team, however, is that they tend to discourage La Russa's most neurotic behaviors. In years past, Tony liked to shuffle relievers relentlessly, often digging himself in holes. But the 2004 Cardinals have no bad relievers, so La Russa rarely gets caught with a poor match-up on the mound.

Likewise, he has such a good starting eight that he rarely has to rely on those light-hitting multi-positional types that can drive you nuts. In the first six games of the playoffs, for example, TLR has given only 10 at bats to guys other than our starters, and hasn't let Luna, Taguchi, or Molina hit at all. Some might find that boring, but I think it's the exact right approach for this team. Nothing cute, nothing fancy, just bombs away...

Posted 7:14 PM by Brian
BARTON BUSTS OUT Freelance writer Bob Reed -- a former staff for Inside Sports -- has come out with his own list of the top 60 prospects in baseball. Who's #1? Why, none other than 19-year-old catcher Daric Barton, who lit it up for the Cards' Class A affiliate in Peoria.

Now, one thing to keep in mind: Bob's list is highly idiosyncratic. I've not seen anyone mention Barton as a better prospect than, say, Delmon Young or Andy Marte. But you can quibble about the precise rankings all your want. The fact is that Barton is a serious prospect, and might take over for Yady Molina within the next couple years.

Posted 10:27 PM by Brian
WHEN IT RAINS IT PUJOLS I admit, I stole that title from a homemade sign held up by a fan at tonight's game. But it's perfectly apt. Game 2 of the NLCS was simply a wetter version of Game 1 -- lots of homers, poor "fundamentals" from the Astros, a short outing by an unheralded Houston starter followed by shoddy relief work, and more pyrotechnics from the heart of the St. Louis order. A few impressions:

I went to college in Worcester, Massachusetts, and back then we had a name for cold, ceaseless, driving rain: "Worcestering." It's miserable stuff (in fact, the Fox cameras showed a close-up of my mom and brother at one point, and while my brother looked positively bedraggled, my mom looked like she was being eaten by her parka). But we got in nine good innings anyway, despite the Worcestering, which was huge for the Cardinals. Had the game been postponed, Clemens and Oswalt would have started games 2 and 3, essentially negating the competitive advantage the Cards got by watching Braves/Astros go five games.

I don't know what the numbers say, but I would guess that rainy conditions increase scoring in baseball. That's the opposite of football, where wet, muddy conditions dampen offense. The reason: baseball is the one team sport where the defense controls the ball. Considering ball control is the first thing to go in a driving rain, you would think that defense and pitching would be down and offense would be up.

Nonetheless, I don't think the weather affected tonight's game much. Scoring was about what you'd expect, and I didn't notice fielders pulling up short (for fear of slipping) or balls dying in the soggy grass and allowing baserunners to move up. In fact, the one time these elements came into play -- when Vizcaino tried to take an extra base on a ball into the left-centerfield gap -- Reggie Sanders made an agile play to gun him out. (Consider this a byproduct of the Larry Walker trade. Sanders, who moved over from right to make room for Walker, is an excellent leftfielder, and there's no chance Ray Lankford or John Mabry would have made the same play on Vizcaino's gap job.)

Carlos Beltran's home run on the third pitch of the game was utterly ho-hum -- I'm starting to think of those Beltran homers like a cover charge, an ante for playing the game. It's really a shame that Beltran won't finish in the top ten in the MVP balloting in either league. In fact, I rarely even see his cumulative AL/NL stats printed anywhere (a legacy of the days before interleague play). So for your browsing enjoyment, here they are: 121 runs, 36 doubles, 9 triples, 38 homers, 104 ribs, 92 walks, 42 swipes, 3 caught stealing, .367 OBP, .548 slugging. And he plays a Gold Glove centerfield. And -- let's just admit it -- he's a handsome devil too.

How did Matt Morris look tonight? Awful. He was running the gauntlet from his first pitch to his last, allowing 11 baserunners in only five innings, two homers, 5 walks (despite a garage-door-sized strike zone from Eric Cooper), and, to complete his abstract-expressionist splatterfest, a wild pitch and a balk. He also made a potentially serious blunder in the 3rd, when he failed to cover first during a run-down of Jeff Bagwell. Had Womack not had enough speed to chase down Bags on his own, it would have been first and third Astros, two outs, with Matt Morris standing on the mound dumbfounded.

Morris has a rep in St. Louis as a guy who's, well, one sandwich short of a picnic. That might be okay if you have a 100-mph heater, but for a guy like Morris, who's in the Moyer/Maddux mind-control stage of his career, that's awfully dangerous. But somehow he wriggled out of trouble all night long (including a five-pitch walk to pitcher Pete Munro that had me one digit away from phoning the paramedics), and was actually in position to be the winning pitcher until Ensberg tied it in the seveth. So the Cards got poor pitching from their starter, but you know what they say -- sometimes the best defense is a good offense.

For the first four innings of tonight's game, Pete Munro did a very convincing impression of Jose Lima. Like Lima last week, he was another flutterball specialist hitting the corners and handcuffing the heart of the Cardinals' order. The Cards had their chances here and there, but they couldn't get the big hit... until there were two outs in the bottom of the fifth. From that point onward the Cards got nothing but big hits (indeed, they got five more hits the rest of the way and four of them left the park).

It was this critical juncture that Phil Garner will be replaying in his sleep. I don't know what it is about this postseason, but you can call it the Year of the Goofy Pitching Changes. Garner, who made some head-scratching moves in Game 1, is now trying to out-Gardenhire Ron Gardenhire with a second straight night of bad decisions.

Mistake #1: Bringing in "Hanging" Chad Harville to face Scott Rolen in the bottom of the fifth. Forget about pulling Munro -- he had only thrown 80 pitches and looked okay to me, but frankly Garner knows his durability better than I do, and I'm not in a position to question his know-how in this area.

But I can question the guy he brought in. The best options against the righthanded-hitting Rolen were Dan Miceli and Dan Wheeler -- both of them allowed only a .188 batting average against righties. Wheeler, who looked especially sharp on Wednesday (and tonight) would have been my choice. Miceli made sense too, although one could argue against him based on his performance against Pujols and Rolen in the 8th. But he's still preferable to Harville, who was weaker all year against righthanded sticks. But for the second night in a row Garner pulled the wrong levers early on, and for the second night in a row the Fox cameras cut to a starter in the Houston dugout, sadly aware that he just went from somebody back to nobody in the blink of an eye.

Mistake #2: Letting Brad Lidge rot in the bullpen. This one is so obvious that I feel bad bringing it up, but why in the world Garner let Dan Miceli face Pujols/Rolen/Edmonds in the bottom of the 8th is beyond me. One week ago I was watching Game 2 of the Braves/Astros divisional series, and I saw Garner call on Lidge with one out in the seventh inning. At that moment I knew the Astros were forces to be reckoned with, because the move told me that Garner had learned from Jedi masters Joe Torre and Jack McKeon, that he was willing to bring in his top reliever wherever and whenever he was needed, "by the book" be damned.

But perhaps because the Astros ended up losing that game (in part due to a subpar performance from Lidge), Garner has completely retreated from that strategy. Last night the 'Stros got close enough to have the tying run on deck in the last inning. Tonight they were tied heading into the bottom of the 8th. And for some reason Garner let Brad Lidge -- as in Light's Out Lidge, better than the Great Gagne this year -- pitch exactly zero innings in these contests. Mystifying.

Last week I wrote in Redbird Nation --

If there's one common mistake we see from managers in the postseason, it's this: they sit around, and they wait for their teams to lose. They get
attached to a particular pitcher, or they get attached to playing the book, and meanwhile they're getting mugged by a cutthroat guy like Torre or McKeon who knows that his job is to win now, today, immediately.

I can't think of a better description of what afflicted Garner tonight. It goes to show that the motivational types -- the rah-rah managers who get their teams to believe in themselves -- are rarely the guys who are good with tactics, strategy, chess moves. Sparky Anderson, Dusty Baker, Harvey Kuenn: they all had (or have) this problem. They manage from the gut, not the head. And it's very rare when you find a guy who excels at both, like finding a guy who can hit forty homers and steal forty bases at the same time. And unfortunately for Houston, Phil Garner is no Carlos Beltran.

But I don't want to blame the entire game on these managerial manoeuvres in the dark. First of all, whether Garner brought in the wrong guys or not, the Cards hitters still stepped up big time -- four gigantic homers from their 2-3-4 men, including two no-doubters from Scott Rolen. (Is it safe to say he's over his injury?)

The Astros, on the other hand, displayed very poor execution for the second night in a row. They left countless runners on base, threw the ball away on a pickoff throw, laid down a bad bunt, and lost three guys on the basepaths (Bagwell picked off by Matheny, Vizcaino thrown out by Sanders, and Ensberg caught stealing on a botched hit-and-run). The Cardinals didn't make any mistakes like that, left only 4 runners on base, and played a flawless game in the field. Now, one could argue that these are marginal differences, that the Astros were this close to taking one of these games. But one could just as easily argue that these differences are the opposite of marginal -- that they are, in fact, what made the Cardinals a 105-win juggernaut and the Astros a 92-win wild card.

I was going to say that this game was virtually a must-win for both teams. But that's silly, not so much because it's not true, but because it's basically true of every game in a short series. If the Cardinals had lost this game, the series would be tied -- but home-field advantage would shift to the Astros, and they'd be getting three of their next five starts from the double-headed Royer Clemwalt monster. As it stands, however, the Cards took care of business at home, and now they can either finish off the Astros in the Juice Box, or come back with a chance to wrap things up at Busch. In other words, they're in a good place.

NOTE: This post is simulcast over at The Hardball Times, which should remain the case throughout the NLCS.

Posted 9:31 PM by Brian
MOUNT ST. LOUIS ERUPTS So the Cards followed the Yankees' lead and posted a 10-7 win of their own in Game 1 of the NLCS. The final score surprised exactly no one -- with Brandon Backe vs. Woody Williams on the hill (not to be confused with Bob Gibson vs. Denny McLain), we all expected the runs to come fast and furious, and they did. Here's my take:

Maybe my sense of proportion was knocked silly by the pandemonium in the Bronx on Tuesday night, but the St. Louis crowd seemed dead tonight, at least for the first half of the game. Actually, that's not fair -- dead implies that the crowd didn't care. They seemed more tense than anything else, like they were watching a guy build a house of cards and didn't want to unsteady him.

I don't blame 'em; it was an awfully tense game to watch. Nearly everyone ceded this game to St. Louis at the outset -- you had Brandon Backe, who pitched half the season in New Orleans, going into hostile territory against one of the more potent lineups of this era (or any other). When a gift like that falls in your lap, you feel like the only thing you can do is drop it. Everything else is what you would expect.

So when Carlos Beltran drilled one into the rightfield stands and made the score 2-0 while most fans were still half a bite into their first hot dog, you can bet the folks in Redbird Nation were having visions of the Ghosts of NLCS Past (the Cards got shelled at Busch in the openers of both the '00 and '02 championship series). The jittery mood didn't lift until the Cards broke things open in the fifth, when the Cards got the merry-go-round going and everyone could finally relax a little.

I hate to bring this up, because I don't want to get into John Kruk/Harold Reynolds territory, but the Cardinals won this game mostly because they were more versatile than the Astros. The Astros offense showed up as expected, launching four home runs -- three of them with men on base. On most nights that would be enough.

But the Cards simply had more weapons. They not only cranked out five extra-base hits of their own, they also benefitted from better baserunning, better plate discipline, better relief, and better defense. Whereas the Astros were 100% reliant on the long ball, the Cards were aggressive on the basepaths (Renteria, Rolen, and Womack all had big heads-up baserunning plays); they moved runners over (and not just by bunting -- three of their walks moved runners into scoring position); and they played solid D.

The Astros, on the other hand, couldn't string together any rallies and they were sloppy in the field. In the first inning, Berkman played Walker's line-out into a triple (which reminded me of Candy Maldonado's misadventures in right in the '87 NLCS). Then in the sixth Reggie Sanders singled up the middle past a wooden Jeff Kent, and later that inning Jose Vizcaino and Jeff Bagwell made a tag-team error to make the score 7-4. I suggested before this series began that defense would be a problem for the Astros, especially without Adam Everett at short. And unfortunately for them, the Cardinals are not a team you want to be giving extra outs.

The Cards were good enough to win, but they were also lucky. Not only did they get all those gifts from the Astros defense, I also thought the Astro pitchers were getting pinched by home-plate ump Tim Welke. What's more, the Cards had an unusual number of goofy-looking hits. Take Larry Walker. In the bottom of the 8th he came up with a chance to hit for the first cycle in postseason history. But I'm sorta relieved he didn't do it, because it would have been one of the sickliest cycles of all time. His first-inning triple either knuckled on Berkman or got lost in the lights. His fifth-inning double was a broken-bat shot that cue-balled its way into foul territory. And his single the next inning was a dying quail that floated in front of Vizcaino. None of these hits looked huge, but the impact of each was very huge. It was that kinda night for the Cards. Oh, sure, the pundits tomorrow will be using this game as an example of the Cards ferocious hitting attack, but to me it seemed like an awful lot of balls just happened to bounce our way.

Phil Garner will probably be accused of overmanaging, just as he was in the NLDS. The key moment came in the bottom of the fifth, with the 'Stros clinging to a 4-3 lead, runners on first and second, two outs, Rolen up. Now, Backe had made Rolen look silly his first two appearances. In his second AB, Rolen took strike three right down the pike, which told me that either Rolen wasn't timing Backe correctly, or else he was pulling off the plate, hoping for a walk rather than jumping on a good pitch (plate discipline is fine and all as long as you're not watching fat pitches go by for called third strikes).

So the question is: should Garner have let Backe face Rolen, or was he right to bring in Chad Qualls? We know what happened -- Qualls promptly gave up the game-tying hit to Rolen -- but I think it's too easy to say that Backe would have done better. For one, Backe looked like he may have been tiring. He was up to 93 pitches, and had just surrendered a long double to the base of the wall by pitcher Woody Williams. Which tells me that if Garner made a mistake with Backe, it was letting him pitch on three days' rest to begin with. I mean, he was gonna have to go with Pete Munro in Game 1 or 2 anyway -- why not hold off on Backe 'til Game 2, when he was more likely to bring his A game? (Some might say that Backe did bring his A game tonight -- after all, he set down eight Cardinals in a row at one point. But look at his final numbers: 4.2 innings, 4 earned runs, 8 baserunners. If that's his A game then he's being graded on a serious curve.)

I also thought La Russa did a little overmanaging of his own, particularly with the way he handled his bullpen. Four relievers to get the final six outs? That's just managing out of fear. And why yank Danny Haren so soon? He had just carved up Bagwell and looked like he had live stuff (just as he did against L.A.), and yet La Russa only let him pitch to two batters. Maybe he wanted to let his other relievers get some work; who knows.

Earlier in the game, however, I thought TLR undermanaged, when he let Woody Williams bat in the bottom of the fifth with none on and one out. The Cards were losing 4-2 and at the time I said we'd need at least 6 runs to win. I thought it made sense to try to score right then and there and take our chances with our well-rested middle relief.

On one hand I was right -- the Cards, in fact, needed 8 runs to win, and letting your pitcher bat in the 5th wasn't the best way to put runs on the board. But I was wrong in that (a) Woody smoked a double into the gap, obviating the need for a pinch hitter; and (b) he ended up pitching a 1-2-3 sixth against the heart of the Astros' order, which was better than any of our subsequent relievers could do.

How bummed are you that Fox is handling these games? Their production values this postseason have been abysmal -- worse even than a typical Fox Sports Midwest broadcast in the regular season (which is odd, because you'd think they'd be using many of the same producers and camerapeople). But I've been shocked at how many shots they've missed and how many times they've come back late from commercial breaks.

What's worse, the NLCS got stuck with Fox's jayvee squad of announcers: Thom Brennaman, Steve Lyons, and Bob Brenly. Brennaman and Brenly are Human Cliche Generators, and Lyons is nothing but a yapping dog -- more Rex Hudler than Rex Hudler himself, if you can believe it. Tonight he kept talking about the Astros issuing Pujols "the old unintentional intentional walk." Sorry, Steve -- it's an intentional unintentional walk, not the other way around (could you imagine someone accidentally walking someone intentionally?).

But that pales in comparison to Lyons' line from the ALDS, when the Yankees had no one out, runners on first and second, down by four in the 8th: "Even the Yankees would rather not see a home run here." The idea was that a three-run homer would stop the Yanks' momentum dead in its tracks, which has to be the single dumbest thought ever uttered by a so-called baseball analyst. The next day three separate friends e-mailed me making fun of Lyons. My friend Brian reminded me that Lyons is the same guy who "once made the last out of the game for the Red Sox, trailing by a run, by trying to steal third with Wade Boggs, who was literally batting over .400 at the time, standing in the batter's box, bewildered."

And what do you all think of the Diamond Cam, Fox's latest innovation that gives the viewer a worm's-eye view of the action? To me it adds nothing to the broadcast (my friend Bread says it lets us know "what it would be like to be a piece of dirt on the infield"), but I don't mind Fox testing out new camera techniques to see what might work.

Lastly, I'm beginning to think that Albert Pujols might be a pretty decent player. Tonight he reached base four times, including a laser to the opposite field to tie the score in the bottom of the first. My brother Sean says Pujols is acquiring "a Bonds-like aura" -- i.e., you either walk him or suffer the consequences. That means he should be on base even more often, which means the outcome of this series may well depend on the productivity of Scott Rolen. If Rolen can play through his knee and calf problems and come close to the player he was the first five months of the season, then it'll put the Astros in the uncomfortable position -- familiar to anyone who's faced the Cardinals this season -- of picking their poisons.

[NOTE: This post is being "simulcast," if you will, over at The Hardball Times, a great baseball site that you've probably stumbled across already. Hopefully that'll bring more attention both to this series and to this website.]

Posted 8:42 PM by Brian
GAME ON! Here are 10 main things I'll be looking for during the Cards' NLCS showdown with the Astros (wait, what the hell, you Redbird fans deserve better -- let's make it 11 main things to look for) --

1. Jumping on Top

During Tony La Russa's tenure, the Cards have had little or no problem waltzing through the first round of the playoffs -- three sweeps, one minor speed bump against the Dodgers, and a loss to the eventual World Champion D'Backs in 2001 that went down to the final at-bat. But in the League Championship Series they've been a different team altogether, losing all three times (and only four games total). The way things stand, TLR's legacy in St. Louis resembles that of Danny Ozark in Philadelphia, who won the division three straight years in the late '70s and never made it to the Big Dance.

The last two championship series have been especially excruciating. The Cards had home field -- and their ace pitcher starting -- in Game 1 in both '00 and '02, and both times they got trounced at Busch. We were behind 6-0 before scoring against the Mets, and down 5-0 before getting off the schneid vs. San Fran.

Thanks to the long Atlanta-Houston series, however, the Cards get lucky with their mound opponent in the opener -- Brandon Backe, rather than Oswalt or Clemens. Backe had pretty blah numbers on the year (5-3, 4.30, and lots of HR allowed), but that's somewhat deceiving. Including Game 3 of the NLDS, he's had three decent starts in a row. And if you toss out the month of May, when he was getting shelled out of the bullpen, his ERA is a respectable 3.58. (By the way, why is Backe pitching on three days rest in Game 1? Doesn't it make more sense to pitch him on four days' rest on Thursday?)

The outlook improves for Game 2, however, as the Astros will throw Pete Munro at the Cardinals. Munro hasn't had more than a couple quality starts all season, and his final ERA was over 5.00. It would be false to say that either Game 1 or Game 2 is a must-win for the Cardinals, but the stakes will be high from the outset. If the Cards can rough up Backe and Munro, they'll put the Astros in a serious hole. But if the Astros can sneak even one win, they'll feel pretty good heading into Game 3 behind Clemens on full rest.

2. Offensive Fireworks

Tonight's pyrotechnics in the Bronx might be a harbinger of things to come in the National League. Since the All-Star Break, the Red Sox and Yankees scored more runs than any team in the AL; over that same period, the Astros and Cardinals led the NL. In fact, we may be witnessing the four very best offenses in all of baseball in these playoffs.

(Tangent: in today's Baseball Prospectus Derek Zumsteg says of the Sox/Yankees, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the two most potent offenses in all of baseball." Not an outrageous statement by any means, but if you take the collective VORP -- BP's catch-all stat of choice -- of each team's lineup, you get --

St. Louis      382.9

Boston         371.2

New York       363.4

Houston        282.0

And that's with a DH for Boston and NY but not for us! Add in Mabry and our collective VORP skyrockets to 401.0. I submit that we have the most potent offense in baseball.)

Back to the matchup at hand... Houston can definitely break out the whupping sticks, but the Cards still have the edge going in. The Astronauts are slightly more patient than our boys (which should be mitigated by our control staff), but we have a decided muscle advantage. Still, over the course of only seven games, these lineups are pretty evenly matched. If you're looking for positional advantages, give the Cards the edge at first, third, and short, the Astros the edge at second and right, and a deadlock in left, catcher, and center (more on that last one in a moment). The victor in this series may be the one who can keep the other in the park.

(Tangent #2: one good thing about the likely high scoring in this series is that it should prevent La Russa from getting cute with the small ball he somtimes breaks out in the LCS. Against the Dodgers, Tony basically played station-to-station, let-'er-rip baseball, which suits this team better than the mincing game we played against Jason Schmidt, Mike Hampton, Unit, Schilling, and the ghosts from LCS past. Remember that game in the '01 NLDS when Vina reached base three times and was bunted over all three times by Placido Planks? I doubt you'll see much of that in this series, thank God.)

3. Cardinal Killers

Lance Berkman will be facing a righty starter every game of this series. That's not good news, as he goes bonkers against northpaws (.329/.463/.606), especially compared to his "merely very good" numbers against lefties (.272/.404/.432). Look for King and Kline to be getting a lot of work against this guy.

But if you're scared of Berkman, you might wet your pants when I show you Jeff Kent's lifetime numbers against our four starters for this series:

     AB    H    2B   HR   BB   AVG   OBP   SLG

     123   46   12    6   10  .374  .421  .667

Gulp. Kent didn't do much against the Bravos in the NLDS, but if he gets his mustachioed groove on, he could be serious trouble. Kent has said he might retire at the end of this season, so let's not give him a grand farewell tour.

4. Team Health

Well, we know Carpenter is out, but if Suppan can remotely approach the performance he gave in Chavez Ravine, our rotation should be fine. But that still leaves a few question marks: Albert Pujols (nursing a stiff lower back after a collision with Cesar Izturis), Larry Walker (still hurting from shin splints), Matt Morris (the usual concerns about his shoulder), Jim Edmonds (sore from fouling a ball off his shin last Saturday), Steve Kline (balky finger, which didn't seem to affect him against L.A.), and, of course, Scott Rolen, who is still battling knee and calf problems.

Rolen made himself reasonably productive last series by taking lots of pitches, but his swing still looks hinky to me. And I'm sure I'm not the only one who noticed him pull up short on a grounder to his right in Game 2 of the NLDS. As Robb at Random Redbird Reasoning points out, Scotty hasn't been at full Rolenosity since his stint on the DL:

Over 30 at-bats (40 plate appearances) he's hitting .100 with a .325 OBP, .233 SLG. Over those 10 games he scored 3, driven in 3, and struck out 7 times. Only two bright spots have taken place in those games - 10 walks drawn, giving him marginal value, and a home run off of Roger Clemens. Rolen seems to have gotten some good hacks here and there during the playoffs, so there is still hope that he's just not quite dialed in yet. Of course, even if he does get dialed in, he is not as quick running the bases as we are used to. While I don't think Rolen needs to sit in favor of Mabry - that's a tad bit nuts - I am starting to wonder if Rolen should be moved a little lower in the lineup for the rest of the year.

I agree. With Jedmonds facing a steady diet of righties, it probably makes sense to bat him cleanup and drop Rolen to fifth, at least until Scooter gets himself untracked.

5. Jason Marquis' Sinker

As I pointed out last week, Marquis is well over his professional high for innings pitch, and his walk rate seems to be rising with his fatigue factor. But as several readers pointed out, I was wrong to say that Marquis was getting his pitches up against L.A. -- instead, he was missing low, unable to get his hard slider over for strikes. Without this pitch, Marquis is just Any Old Pitcher (but fortunately La Russa has shown he won't mess around with the guy; if he's not hitting his spots, expect Danny Haren to appear post haste).

Marquis will go up against Clemens in Game 3. That seems to favor the Astros, especially since Rocket will go on four days' rest (he hates pitching on three days, and after a shaky performance on short rest the other day, he admitted that his legs were "dead" after only a couple innings). But Clemens was pretty weak in both his starts against Atlanta, including the one on full rest in Game 1. Altogether he pitched only 12 innings and allowed twenty baserunners. And even though he pitched out of some tough jams, I doubt the Cards lineup will be as forgiving as Atlanta's.

Looking down the line, Clemens can pitch on four days rest in Game 7 (should there be one), but that squeezes Roy Oswalt, who is scheduled to pitch on Sunday only. This is a massive opportunity for the Cardinals, as four of the games will be started by the back-end of Houston's rotation. Man, you hate to be thankful for someone else's misfortune, but I'm relieved as hell we don't have to face Wade Miller or Andy Pettitte this series.

6. Battle of the Super Centerfielders

For the last couple years Jim Edmonds and Carlos Beltran have been the best centerfielders in all of baseball, and it'll be fun seeing them go toe-to-toe in this series. Despite a weak stretch run and a subpar NLDS, Edmonds is primed to break out in this series. As I mentioned, he'll face plenty of righthanders, plus he's always done well in the comfy confines of the Juice Box (lifetime .983 OPS there).

Beltran had something of a coming-out party against Atlanta (which probably tacked $15 million onto his next contract). He's never done much against the pitchers on our staff (lifetime .185 batting average -- but five triples!), but I wouldn't put much stock in that. He's a serious superstar, and, incidentally, the best baserunner I've ever seen in my life.

7. Battle of the Bullpens

The Astros have easily the best reliever on either club -- Mr. Brad "Lights Out" Lidge. But all the other best relievers play for us. In fact, after Lidge I'd probably take any of our relievers over any on Houston's. (Although you could make a case for Chad Qualls and young Dan Wheeler. And Dan Miceli was pretty sweet down the stretch.) The key, then, is to chase the 'Stros starters early, get into that middle relief, and neutralize Lidge, just like we did with Gagne in the Dodger series. And if any games go extras, I like the Birds' chances.

8. Leading Off

Something strange happened to Craig Biggio after the All-Star Break -- he stopped reaching base. He's had a .308 OBP over that timespan, which isn't the kind of table-setting you want to see if you're an Astros fan (you're not, are you?). It'll be interesting to see if he can keep up his hot streak from the Atlanta series, which was the first time he batted over .182 in any postseason.

As for our leadoff hitter, well, we've been waiting all year for the other shoe to drop with Tony Womack. Is that what happened in the NLDS (a .158 batting average and no walks in 19 plate appearances), or, like he's done so many times this year, will he put on his slap-happy singles shoes and get busy? With baseball's Mount Rushmore coming up after him, it would help if he could be on base to exercise those crazylegs of his.

(By the way, if you're curious, the Cards may be able to do some running this series. Brad Ausmus and Matheny are about equal with the wood in their hands, but at this point Matheny has become the far superior gloveman. This year Ausmus set a career low for caught-stealing percentage, and Atlanta stole 7 bases in 8 tries against him last week.)

9. Bench Strength

I have a theory -- unfounded, to be sure -- that it's not the teams with the biggest strengths that win short series; it's the teams with the fewest weaknesses. Sooner or later, holes get exposed. (In last year's World Series, for example, the Yanks outhit the Marlins, but Florida was a much more well-rounded team, and eventually skewered the Yanks' poor up-the-middle defense and their shaky middle relief.) That's why it's important to look at some of those faceless guys on the bench.

The Astros probably have a slight edge here. Mike Lamb is a good comp for John Mabry, but after that they have Jason Lane and our old friend Orlando Palmeiro (remember that catch in Wrigley last year?), who seem to be better alternatives than Roger Cedeno or So Taguchi.

Speaking of Mabry, he batted only once in the first round of the playoffs (and struck out). Considering he's a lefty who had good numbers on the year, and considering the Astros will throw nothing but righty starters at the Cardinals -- and considering further that we might need Mabes to get his licks in if he's going to be our full-time DH in the World Series -- then it might make sense to give him a start or two somewhere in here.

10. Dee-fense

This is the only area where the Astros are markedly weaker than the Dodgers. Their Defensive Efficiency (which measures a team's ability to transform balls in play into outs) was among the worst in the league. And even though they shored things up by planting Beltran in center, they're still something of a mess in the field. As I mentioned, Ausmus' glovework is off, and the 'Stros are especially weak at the corners (Bagwell's arm is virtually useless). Kent is nothing to write home about, leaving Houston very exposed. This could be a huge competitive advantage for the Cards.

11. Intangibles

About the only intangible I care about is whatever happens in the future. Yes, there's the "Cards have more playoff experience" angle, which never seems to count for much. There's the "hot streak" angle -- but who's hotter right now? The Astros, who went bonkers in September, or the Cards, who had an easier time in their opening round series? There's also the "we're just happy to be here" angle, which some people have applied to the Astros, but I'm not buying it. You think Bags and Beege and Kent -- who have played 44 seasons put together -- don't want a ring as badly as anybody?

And then there's the "motivated by hate" angle, which seems to be such a huge factor in the ALCS. But despite a few random dust-ups over the years (they don't like that we call ourselves the 2001 co-division champs, and last year Billy Wagner accused the Cards of "not respecting" them), this has been a pretty friendly rivalry. As La Russa put it: "Lot of hard competition, minimum BS." After all, these are the same teams that stood shoulder to shoulder when Darryl Kile passed away a couple years ago.

I don't expect any kind of fracas this series -- hell, I wouldn't be shocked to see the two ballclubs hug each other when all is said and done. Let's just hope it's the Cards dishing out "nice try, better luck next time" hugs, and not the "where did we go wrong, please hold me" hugs we've grown used to over the years.

Posted 10:43 PM by Brian
BRING ON THE ASTROS After tonight's 12-3 beatdown in Atlanta, we have an opponent in the NLCS: our old rivals, the Houston Astros. A lot of Cardfans have been saying they'd take either the Braves or the 'Stros, doesn't matter to them. Personally I think that's crazy. The Astros seem like a much better team to me, despite the fact that they were pushed to five games by the Flying Tomahawks. I mean, the Astros scored 36 runs (far and away the record for a divisional series) against a staff that led the league in ERA. So they bring some serious lumber into the Lou.

Then again, the Cards are better rested, have some serious lumber of their own, and their Game 1 mound opponent is either Pete Munro, Brandon Backe, or Vern Ruhle. An optimist would say, "I'm not worried" -- but come on, this is a good team we're facing, and any team worth its salt can win four of seven from any other team, I don't care how lopsided the matchups are. (Consider that the Yankees dropped four of seven games to the Tigers this year.) So you gotta be worried. I mean, that little knot in your stomach is what makes it all count, right?

Posted 9:40 PM by Brian
REHAB Compared to the hermit hole he's been living in the past 18 years, Don Denkinger is practically on a whirlwind round-the-world publicity tour. First there was the interview he did with ESPNews last June (which I wrote about a few months ago), then there was the announcement that he's going to be in St. Louis on October 22nd to -- get this -- sign autographs, and then there was the touchy-feely-weepy profile on him that ran during last night's SportsCenter.

I gotta admit, I'm fascinated by Denkinger's story, just as I am with all goats (Buckner, Bartman, Branca, Merkle, Lewinsky, etc.). The film critic Manny Farber once said that Preston Sturges' movies are populated by folks who

...fear that their lives are going to pieces, that they are going to be fired, murdered, emasculated, or trapped in such ridiculous situations that headlines will scream about them to a hooting nation for the rest of their lives. They seem to be haunted by the specters of such nationally famous boneheads as Wrong-Way Corrigan, Roy Riegles, who ran backwards in a Rose Bowl game, or Fred Merkle, who forgot to touch second base in a crucial play-off game, living incarnations of the great American nightmare that some monstrous error can drive individuals clean out of society into a forlorn no-man’s land, to be the lonely objects of an eternity of scorn, derision, and self-humiliation.

Cheery, huh? But think about it: every time Denkinger signs a check at the grocery store he must look into the check-out clerk's eyes and think: Does she know? Or has enough time passed? Am I still paying for that one sin?

Unfortunately the latest ESPN piece on Denkinger is mostly crap. It starts off with voice-over actors reading from hate mail Denkinger received back in '85, and it's all done in this very bombastic style that recalls nothing so much as a junior high production of 12 Angry Men. And then the narrator says, faux-innocently, "he made a simple mistake..." The subtext, of course, is "guys, it's just a game," but the strings and oboes slathered all over the production tell you that ESPN is as serious about this as anybody (even me, and I just quoted Manny freaking Farber on Sturges' emasculated heroes). As Friendly's said in a comments thread below, the whole thing reminded him of one of those spoofy Stephen Colbert interviews on The Daily Show.

The only semi-revelations in the piece are the threats of violence aimed at Denkinger and his family in the aftermath of his blown call. After watching the segment this morning, my friend Brian said, "I felt like Missouri was a South American country and our goalie just let a penalty kick go by him." True enough, although it's important to remember that in a nation of 280 million people, which includes, what, a few million Cardinals fans, that you're bound to get a good number of crazies. Add to that the countless gamblers who no doubt lost oodles of money on the outcome of Game 6 in 1985, and you can see how things got a little touchy back then.

The real sad thing is that the blown call didn't really help anyone -- not the Cardinals, not Denkinger, and perhaps not even the fans of Kansas City Royals, who must be sick of hearing that their lone world championship came at a discount. In some parallel universe somewhere the Cards and Royals must have played the game already without Denkinger's gaffe. Wonder what happened.

Posted 3:39 PM by Flynn
THE GAME OF HIS LIFE OK, so we're all tuning in to tonight's Braves-Astros showdown hoping it goes 28 innings and leaves the winning team so flat they can be mailed to St. Louis. In the meantime, there is one minor thing that has been on my mind after watching Lima and Suppan the last two nights.

"The game of his profesional career." This was the phrase used by Thom Brennaman last night to describe what Jeff Suppan was in the middle of creating. This pleased the literalist in me but I still had a little problem with it. Why? Well, you always hear "He's pitching the game of his life tonight!" or something of that sort when an unproven guy goes out and reduces the other team. Now, it's totally my opinion, but I think if you pried into most of these guys' minds you would find that "the games of their lives" were the ones they mustered up in high school while the scouts were in the stands and the ones they strung together in their first years in the bigs.

As fans we are wrapped up in the competition of it all (which, in addition to the mere thrill of seeing a sport being played at its absolute highest level, is what it's all about.) But think about it. Jeff Suppan has a life that he owes to the game. He's considered quite a bargain in the scheme of things but dude has made many millions of dollars throwing a baseball. I don't care what job you have, I know you'd trade with the Soup Man (unless you're Earl Miller.) Suppan owes his LIFE to the fact that he impressed some people while in high school enough to be signed, and then to the fact that he showed that he could pitch at the big league level in the first year or two he was in MLB. (Which, would be, I think, the biggest games of his professional career.) Once a guy shows that he can be at least a .500 pitcher he should be able to make enough money to set him up for life. See - Mark Clark. To further succeed (as he most assuredly did last night) is to only enhance that life; hence the phrase "biggest game of his life" might be misplaced.

Posted 10:19 PM by Brian
EXHALE I was there tonight -- along with my brother Sean, we were one of the few Cards fans amid a sea of Dodger blue and furious Thunder Stix. A few quick thoughts:

Pujols. Wow. Before every postseason series they say a little guy -- someone unexpected, someone like Brian Doyle or Donn Clendenon or Tom Lawless -- will step up and be the hero. And then again, sometimes the hero is the biggest guy with the biggest target on his back. Tonight Pujols played like, well, Albert Pujols. Or, as one Dodger fan behind me muttered in despair, "the guy's a one-man wrecking crew."

Not quite -- Phat Al got plenty of help from his mates -- but boy, did he step up. I had a perfect sightline for his three-run jack: just a thing of beauty (and it did wonders for my heart rate). But he also added a sterling play in the field as well as a 7th-inning icing-on-the-cake RBI. Despite his furious game up in Wrigley back in July, this was Albert's biggest game as a professional. I look forward to even bigger ones down the line...

Pujols also set the tone for the Cards early on, when he walked on 7 pitches after falling behind Odalis Perez 0-2 in the first. In general we were much more patient tonight than we were against Lima last night, including seven (seven!) walks against a pitching staff that was near the top of the league in terms of control. Our lineup simply wore down Perez, who seemed chronically unable to challenge Cardinal hitters, and got into the Dodgers' bullpen early. Good stuff.

Suppan seemed almost as shaky as Perez in the first three innings, but he transformed into a different pitcher after the Pujols homer. Working with a three-run lead, he seemed to relax and trust himself more. Over the last four innings he was a total machine -- he didn't allow a single baserunner, went to two balls on only two hitters, and needed only 39 pitches to retire the last 12 Dodgers. And to think he only got the start because Carpenter was injured.

In fact, Morris and Suppan pitched the two best games of the series for the Cardinals, despite all our hand-wringing about Mo and Soup in September. And for anyone who thinks the Cards pitching was too weak to win a short series, check out that 3.09 team ERA this series. Granted, the Dodgers aren't the most potent hitting attack in the world (all of the remaining playoff teams pose bigger challenges, that's for sure), but even the big Dodger bats were relatively quiet. Beltre didn't have a single extra-base hit all series. Steve Finley went only 2-16. And their table setter, Cesar Izturis, limped away 3-17.

The Dodger Stadium crowd was pretty good -- they were loud and throaty and fervid as hell for the home team, and yet no one gave my brother and me any trouble for rooting for St. Louis (although we were pretty subdued with our celebrations). But it was still sweet whenever the Cards would pull off one of their patented "shuttups" -- the best, I think, was Reggie Sanders ranging far over in the 6th to flag down Finley's pop down the line. The crowd went from berserk to dead quiet in a blink. (I also got a kick out of my brother's line when the fans were chanting M-V-P for Beltre: "I guess they want Jim Tracy to pinch-hit Bonds.")

Being in enemy territory truly wore me out. I guess I would have been pretty tense even if I was in Busch, but I didn't get the same release I'd have had when, say, Reggie and Albert hit their home runs. (I'm not one of these guys who likes whooping it up in opposing stadiums -- seems rude.) There's also a different vibe when you're watching games in person. The action is more immediate, and you don't have the same sense of control you have watching games on TV. That makes it more exhilarating, but also more nerve-wracking; and after hanging on all 300 pitches (yes, 300 exactly) during this game, I felt like I had run a marathon or something. Just wiped out.

I've now seen three series-clinchers in person: Game 7 of the '87 NLCS vs. the Giants, Game 3 of the NLDS vs. the Pads, and tonight. Driving home from tonight's game I got a chilling reminder of that great game against San Diego down in old Jack Murphy Stadium, when I heard about Ken Caminiti's untimely death. Caminiti, you may recall, went deep twice in that game, the second time to knot things up in the bottom of the 8th. Unfortunately Caminiti played off the field as hard as he played on the field, all out, leaving nothing behind, and hearing the news of his death was, along with the tragedy that took place at Mariano Rivera's Panama home, the only downside to the evening.

On the good side, however, I was completely moved by the Dodgers show of class at the end of the game, when they came out onto the field to congratulate the Cardinals. I'd never seen a baseball team do that before (although I hear the Braves did that after their epic showdown with the Twins in '91).

I've admired this Dodger team all year -- they're not only the franchise of Branch Rickey and the NL team I root for in lieu of the Cardinals, they're also a good group of guys, real battlers (who can forget that 18-pitch at bat from Cora?). So my brother and I stuck around as the game ended to give a hand to L.A., and lo and behold they beat us to the punch. Just a first-class move.

ADDITION: Believe it or not, it was Larry Walker who initiated the feel-good handshakes between the Cards and Dodgers at the end of the game. He's always wanted teams to act more the way hockey players do at the end of games (Walker, of course, is a native Canadian), and he first proposed the idea to La Russa a couple weeks ago. La Russa made arrangements with Tracy and prompted the Dodgers skipper to come out and exchange congratulations after the game. Give the Dodgers credit for going along with the idea (especially after being eliminated from the playoffs), but also give Walker and La Russa credit for launching the idea in the first place.

All in all it was a great day in St. Louis sports. Not only did the Cards wrap up the NLDS, the Rams mounted a mad comeback to knock off the Seahawks, and, less importantly but very nice in its own right, the Braves won a heart-stopper against the 'Stros to keep that series alive. (What is it with the Astros and the postseason? And when can they officially apply for cursedom? They can make everything better by winning tomrrow night, but otherwise their pain is as excruciating as anybody's over the last 20 years.)

Now that the other series is going 5 games, that gives the Cards an extra day of rest, and it allows them to line up their rotation perfectly (which neither potential opponent -- most tellingly Houston, with their Big Two of Clemens and Oswalt -- can do). But before we look ahead to Round 2, I'm content to remain goofily happy tonight. As Larry Walker said after the game, "we want to stay at an even keel -- except for this half hour here when we can act like a bunch of fools."

Posted 10:34 PM by Brian
FEEBLE TIME Who's up, who's down, who's in between after Game 3 of Cards/Dodgers in the NLDS --

↑ UP: Jose Lima

For the first three years of this century, Lima was the worst pitcher in baseball, by a longshot. Within two years, however, he's turned himself into not only the Dodgers' nominal ace, but also their spiritual leader and, after tonight, their biggest Big Game pitcher.

Tonight he pitched a maddening Madduxian masterpiece -- one of those games where, on any given pitch, he looked eminently hittable. But the way he set up hitters and kept them off balance -- coupled with a knee-buckling changeup and a consistent ability to paint the corners -- was brilliant. He faced only 5 batters over the minimum and allowed only two runners in scoring position (and of course, neither scored). Hats off to the guy.

But there was one way in which Lima was distinct from Greg Maddux, and that was the blatant theatricality of his performance. If he's on your team, I suspect you would call his antics exuberant, joyful, everything that's missing from today's corporate superstars.

Personally I find him a boor. And yes, I know, that sounds like sour grapes, and I'm sure I'd feel differently if he were wearing the Birds on the Bat, but Christ Almighty, at least showboats like Joaquin Andujar and Pascual Perez chose their spots. This guy calls attention to himself on every damn play. And I refuse to believe those who say, "well, that's just Lima being Lima," because frankly Lima didn't always act this over-the-top. Don't get me wrong -- he's always been a hot dog -- but lately he seems to have become a parody of himself. And I can't imagine that if Matt Morris or Steve Kline acted this way that I wouldn't be slightly embarrassed about it.

Again, I know this sounds whiny, and I know I'd feel differently if he wasn't eating our lineup for breakfast, but I'd be lying if I said his preening didn't make this loss a hell of a lot harder to swallow.

↓ DOWN: Murderer's Row

Tonight's game reminded me of nothing so much as the 2002 Super Bowl against the Patriots. During that game I kept expecting the Rams' vaunted offense to exploit the weaknesses in the Pats' D and explode the way they did all season. Same thing tonight with the Cardinals -- the only difference, of course, is that the Rams eventually did erupt for a couple late TDs against New England. Tonight we began with a whimper and ended with a whimper. (Or as my brother Matt put it late in the game, "same shit, different inning.")

The chief letdown artists were our 2-3-and-4 hitters: oh-fer-12 on the night, no walks, three strikeouts. And it wasn't just that they were getting beat -- it's the way they were getting beat: a whole lot of lousy, throwaway at-bats. But they didn't start off this way. The first time through the lineup, Walker, Pujols, and Rolen saw 18 pitches combined. Not bad. The next time through they saw only six pitches combined (!); after that, only 9 pitches; after that, a mere ten.

The only member of Murderer's Row who had good ABs against Lima was Jim Edmonds, who slapped a couple hits. Along with Tony Womack, he was the only Cardinal to reach base more than once. Yuk.

↑ UP: Baseballs

Lima's big weakness is the gopherball -- he coughed up 33 of them this year, most on the Dodgers team and 4th most in the league. In fact, it's almost impossible to beat Lima at Dodger Stadium unless you go yard. Consider: in 14 starts at Chavez Ravine this year, he gave up 16 home runs, but only 12 "non-home run" runs.

The message, then, is clear: go deep or go home. And it sure seemed like the Cards were trying to lift the ball -- on the night they had 8 ground outs and 14 outs in the air. But it's hard to put those flyballs over the fence when you're consistently falling behind in the count and taking weak, off-balance swings. The end result was zero extra bases and a big fat W for the Dodgers.

↓ DOWN: Strategy

There wasn't much of it in this game. I guess Tracy made a couple of semi-important decisions -- when he left in Lima to bat with two outs and the bases loaded in the sixth, and when he left in Lima to pitch the 8th and 9th rather than lift him for a reliever. But frankly I thought both choices were no-brainers. He had a 4-0 lead and was cruising, so there was no need to take a risk with someone else.

La Russa had a choice in the top of the 5th with Morris up and two runners on. In retrospect it was our best scoring chance of the night, but that's only in retrospect. There was no need to pull the pitcher after 4 IP in a 3-0 game.

Other than that I can't think of anything Tracy or La Russa could have done to alter the outcome of this game. That's what happens when you run into a buzzsaw.

↑ UP: Matt Morris

In some ways I felt the opposite of the way I felt after Jason Marquis' poor performance on Thursday night. The Cards won the battle but, if Marquis doesn't shape up, they may well lose the war, especially if they have to win against killer offenses like Houston, Boston, or New York.

Tonight, however, the Cards lost the battle, but I feel a lot better about going to war with Morris on my side. He gave up 4 earned runs in 7 innings and took the loss, but I think those stats are pretty misleading.

For starters, his stuff was pretty terrific. I knew we had "Good Matt Morris" on board when, in the bottom of the 2nd, he challenged Adrian Beltre with a fastball and just blew a 94-mph heater right past him. His curve wasn't quite as nasty as we've seen it in games past, but I was pretty impressed with Mercurial Matt. His biggest mistake, of course, was his inability to solve Shawn Green, but those homers were Morris' only real sins on the night.

But wait, you say -- what about those other two runs he gave up? Well, read on...

↓ DOWN: Chuck Meriwether

Those other two runs Morris gave up can be laid almost entirely at the feet of home-plate ump Chuck Meriwether. In the bottom of the third, with the game deadlocked zero-zero, Alex Cora led off the inning and took first base on a hit by pitch. The problem is, I'm almost entirely convinced he wasn't hit by the pitch. The sound the ball made and the ricochet it took off the bat -- as well as the replay itself -- looked for all the world like it hit off the knob of the bat, not Cora's hand. Of course, Cora shook his hand vigorously as if he was plunked, but (a) he could have been faking; and (b) that's not an atypical reaction to taking a stinger off the nub of the bat. I honestly don't think he was hit.

But at least that was a tough call. That's nothing compared to the comedy of errors later in the inning. With runners on first and third and one out, Jose Lima ran into a bunted ball in fair play. That's a dead ball and out #1. Except Meriwether and his crew missed the play entirely and called everyone safe when Matheny threw late trying to get the trail runner at second (and according to Bernie Miklasz, the umps may have blown that call too).

Jon Weisman of Dodger Thoughts concedes that Lima should have been out, but basically says the Dodgers deserved a break because of the rough week they had. Whatever. The most astonishing thing about the miscall is that it was clear what happened in live action, on TV, even with a bad angle. And yet four umps on the infield totally missed it. That's inexcusable.

Worse yet, it screwed up the entire inning. This wasn't Game 6 '85, when the Cards reacted to a blown call by falling apart. Instead Matty Mo stepped up, got the next two hitters to pop out, and only caved after Finley's two-out broken-bat double. (It was practically the same situation as the one in which Finley found himself on Thursday -- tie game, early on, bases loaded, two outs -- but this time he delivered.)

So yes, in the scorebook it goes as two earned runs against Morris, but when the umps give the other team two extra outs and two extra baserunners in an inning (and when they force your pitcher to pitch off the stretch, his weaker delivery, when he shouldn't have had to), I think it's fair to hand out a few asterisks.

Now, I don't at all want to claim that those miscalls are responsible for our loss -- after all, Lima and Green played far better than anyone on the Cards team, bad call or no. But if the calls didn't cost us the game, they very well may have cost us a game. We should have at least had a classic pitching duel on our hands; but thanks to Chuck Meriwether and his bumbling cohorts we were treated to a limp 4-0 bummer.

↑ UP: Cardinals

We still lead 2 games to 1. That's a hell of a lot better than the reverse. And yet... the nightmare scenario is getting a little easier to see. The Cards have Jeff Suppan (5.23 post-All Star Break ERA) going tomorrow evening. Just as worrisome, we're now hearing that Scott Rolen (0-10 in the series, and the only Cards regular with fewer than 3 hits) is less than 100% healthy. Shades of '02, anyone?

Again, we have two shots at this thing and the Dodgers have only one, but tonight's game isn't going to make me rest any easier.

Posted 11:35 PM by Brian
INSTANT REPLAY Wow. Another 8-3 pasting of the Dodgers. Let's see which way the arrows are pointing:

↑ UP: Our 6-7-8 hitters

If you had told Dodger fans before the game that (a) they'd get three long bombs from Jayson Werth, Shawn Green, and Milton Bradley; and (b) that they'd hold the first five guys in our order to 3-for-20 on the night, I think they'd have bet their life savings on Los Angeles and even put up their first-born sons as collateral. Instead they got the same 8-3 drubbing at the hands of the Cardinals.

How did it happen? Renteria, Sanders, and Matheny. Renteria has now reached base six times in the first two games, Sanders reached base four times tonight alone, and Mike Matheny has driven in almost as many runs in the series as the entire Dodgers team. I knew things were going well when, after the Cards iced the game in the 7th, my friend Larry started singing "Look out for Matheny" to the tune of Bob Kuban's "The Cheater." Yep -- Mike Matheny! If he had played like, well, like he normally plays, the Cards might have found themselves locked in a tight, nip/tuck affair that coulda gone either way. Instead Matheny came through with two huge two-out, two-run singles. Just goes to show how foolhardy it is to predict these playoff games -- weird stuff happens.

↓ DOWN: Jason Marquis

And I don't mean down in the good way. A couple months ago I said that the key to Jason Marquis' success is that he stay down -- as long as he doesn't get too up (both in terms of being too excitable and too far up in the strike zone) he's fine.

Unfortunately this is the playoffs, and it's natural to think Marquis' emotions might be running higher than normal. Morever, Marquis has looked just plain tired for weeks now. His pitches are way up in the zone -- a common sign of fatigue, and deadly for a guy with a hard slider who thrives on keeping the ball on the infield. Of the 13 batted balls off Marquis tonight, ten of them were in the air (three of them out of the park).

This is not something to take lightly. Jason Marquis' previous professional high in innings pitched is 141.2, when he pitched for Macon in the Class-A Sally League seven years ago. So burn-out is certainly a concern. In fact, look what happened after Marquis passed the 150-inning mark this year:

            IN     BB    BB/9

Before     150.1   47    2.81

After       50.0   23    4.14

Seemingly overnight he's transformed from a pitcher with good control to one with very shaky control. Tonight he went to at least 3 balls on half the hitters he faced.

Now, you might think it's unseemly to dish on Marquis when the Cards are riding so high, but screw it -- I'd like to think we're in this for the long haul now; I don't want just the NLDS crown. Been there, done that. We need Marquis to step up, especially now that Carpenter looks like he's done for the year. And if Marquis can't do it, then bring on Danny Haren.

↑ UP: My heart rate

By some measures the Dodgers had the best bullpen in baseball this year (and last year too). But with both starters struggling, this game ultimately came down to bullpen strength, and the Cards, with 5.2 innings of shutout relief from Eldred, Haren, King, Tavarez, and Kline, simply neutered the Dodgers surging attack.

Eldred had the most adventuresome outing. He got Weaver on a pop bunt to make it two outs, runner on first. But then he walked Izturis, walked Werth, and went to 3-0 on Finley. Our entire season flashed before my eyes at this point. I pictured him walking in the go-ahead run, then grooving one to Adrian Beltre on the next pitch (hence the high heart rate).

Instead Eldred caught the corner to make it 3-1, then powdered a fastball past Finley to make it 3-2, then got him to fly to center to end the threat. I'm not usually one of these guys to attribute entire ballgames to isolated moments, but let's face it, that one moment changed everything. We seemed to go up two games to nothing right there.

↓ DOWN: Dodger Defense

You knew the Dodgers would have trouble outscoring the Cardinals, and you knew they'd have trouble with their starting pitching, but who knew their defense would abandon them so totally? Do any of these sound like the team that led the league in fewest errors, Zone Rating, and Defensive Efficiency?

* Milton Bradley over-commits to Renteria's obvious single and turns it into a double.

* Alex Cora misjudges how much time he has to field Reggie Sanders' bunt, rushes the throw, and tosses wide to Green at first, who does a poor job of digging the ball out of the dirt.

* Weaver tries to pick Sanders off first and instead throws the ball away for an error. And again Green makes a poor stab at the ball.

* Cesar Izturis double-clutches on a ground ball from Sanders (perhaps he didn't have a handle on the ball, perhaps he misjudged Sanders' speed) and Sanders is safe at first with an infield single.

* Pujols hits a smash to second that could easily be a twin killing -- instead the ball skips past Cora and goes into right for a single.

That's at least five defensive miscues. Throw in a bad bunt, a wild pitch, a couple hit-by-pitches, and some lousy situational hitting, and it's fair to say that the Dodgers aren't exactly putting on a clinic.

↑ UP: Hype

I got a little scared before tonight's game because the hosannahs were coming fast and furious for the Cardinals, and I started to wonder if the praise was getting just a little out of hand. Take Eric Neel's (admittedly half-joking) love letter to the Cardinals' offense, in which he tries to place himself in the mind of the opposing pitcher:

You watch this team, and you're getting hammered, and you're feeling woozy, and your mind starts to drift like the condemned man in "Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge," and you find yourself running back down other dark hallways, through other fiery hells. You think maybe the only way to survive this dinosaur stampede is to somehow ground it in reality, put it in perspective; and so you start thinking of the most terrifying lineups in your lifetime (which, if you're me, goes back about 37 years), teams that'll put these Cardinals in relief.

That's a serious rep to live up to. And although, yes, the Cards ground the Dodgers to a pulp in Game 1, it was just one game. Not that difficult to imagine the Dodgers snatching one tonight at Busch, tying the series one-all, and then they'd go back to Chavez Ravine with home-field advantage.

Didn't happen. The Dodgers have been pulling rabbits out of their hats all year, but this is their biggest test yet. And if they're gonna get past the Cards, they're gonna have to sweep at home and come back into the dragon's lair of Busch. Not an attractive place to be.

↓ DOWN: FOX

What was up with that goofy camera angle? It seemed like we were always on top of and to the side of the main batter's box/battery action. I don't know why Fox didn't go with the traditional framing -- perhaps they were formatting for HDTV, perhaps they wanted to emphasis those wide "green screen" ads behind home plate -- but whatever the case I found it extremely disorienting, and difficult to judge balls and strikes. Did anyone else have this problem?

↑ UP: Tony La Russa

Every manager would look like a genius if his team scored him eight runs per game, but La Russa once again avoided mistakes and pulled the right strings. He made only three notable choices:

(1) Starting Sanders over Mabry. Robb at Random Redbird Reasoning pointed out before the game that Jeff Weaver has a .371 OBP vs. lefties, which would have made the left-handed John Mabry an attractive choice in left. But TLR went with Sanders; and whether his reasoning was sound or not, Sanders did reach base 4 times and scored two runs.

(2) Having Matheny lay down a bunt after Sanders' leadoff single in the 4th. I think the Cards should never sacrifice an out this early in the ballgame, especially with the lumber in our lineup, and especially since this looked to be a high-scoring affair. Even Matheny proved that the Cards can generate runs just fine by letting 'er rip.

(3) Yanking Marquis. Maybe this was a no-brainer -- Marquis had already thrown 88 pitches and he was clearly off. But it was also the top of the fourth inning, and I know lots of managers who would have left him in there to rot.

If there's one common mistake we see from managers in the postseason, it's this: they sit around, and they wait for their teams to lose. They get attached to a particular pitcher, or they get attached to playing the book, and meanwhile they're getting mugged by a cutthroat guy like Joe Torre or Jack McKeon who knows that his job is to win now, today, immediately. Tonight TLR avoided the mistake he made in the '02 NLCS, when he left Morris in two or three hitters too long. As soon as it was clear Marquis didn't have it, he was gone. Very shrewd, and hopefully a harbinger of things to come.

↑ UP: The Cardinals

Two games to nothing. And if you believe the baseball wonks, we now have roughly a one and three chance of winning the World Series. But it's taboo to say that, right?

Posted 10:29 AM by Brian
IF I HAD A CARPENTER Here's a stray sentence in the middle of Will Carroll's Under the Knife column today:

There's also some rumblings of Chris Carpenter being available for the NLCS.

Dare I dream?

Posted 9:34 PM by Brian
ALL THIS AND ERNIE HAYS ON THE BALDWIN ORGAN People frequently rib St. Louisans for calling themselves "the best fans in baseball." But the fact is we aren't the only ones to use that label -- last week I heard an Astros broadcaster refer to Houstonians as the best in baseball, and there used to be a banner in Safeco Field (maybe it's still there) proclaiming Seattle home to the best in baseball. And I'm sure the same phrase has been tossed around in Boston, New York, Chicago, and basically anywhere outside Tampa.

But if you want to make a case for St. Louis, you might want to come armed with these facts published recently in USA Today:

• The team drew more than three million for the sixth time in the last seven years. Nearly one million came from outside a 100-mile radius of Busch Stadium.

• Although St. Louis is only the 21st-ranked TV market in the country, the club boasts baseball's No. 1 TV rating over-the-air (12.9) and No. 2 cable rating (8.8), behind only the Red Sox (9.7). "The ratings are phenomenal," says Jacqueline Parkes, vice president for advertising and marketing for Major League Baseball.

• The Cardinals perennially rank in the top four in license sales, with the Yankees, Chicago Cubs and Boston Red Sox.

You may notice that the Cards ranked only 8th in overall attendance this year (baseball set a record for the most fans in its history). Here are the top ten:

1. Yankees
2. Dodgers
3. Angels
4. Phillies
5. Giants
6. Cubs
7. Astros
8. Cardinals
9. Padres
10. Mariners

But of course, St. Louis is the smallest of all those metro areas. If you reordered them according to marginal attendance (or every attendee over 500,000, which seems like the absolute lowest attendance you could have) per marginal population (or everyone over 1 million in the metro area, which again, seems like the minimum for a major league franchise), you get this (oh, and for the record I split the population of New York, Chicago, and L.A. in half, as they each support two MLB teams):

1. Cardinals
2. Padres
3. Mariners
4. Giants
5. Cubs
6. Astros
7. Phillies
8. Dodgers
9. Angels
10. Yankess

Not too shabby, St. Louie.

Posted 9:19 PM by Brian
BACK IN BLACK I know I'm a couple days late with this thing, but if you haven't read Will Leitch's wildly entertaining playoff preview at the Black Table, do yourself a favor and check it out (and I'm not just saying this because Will is a rock-ribbed Cards fan). Here are my favorite snippets --

[Vlad] Guerrero, an impatient hitter with poor command of the strike zone, is like that kid you went to college with who never went to class and still kicks your ass on the final.

And about Sox vs. Yanks in the ALCS --

The Yankees are the suits. The Yankees are the slimy stockbroker who used to date your girlfriend. The Yankees shop at Prada. The Yankees are the establishment. The Yankees are, ultimately, Dean Wormer. And it's time for Bluto.

And about our own St. Louis Cardinals --

Mental image: After the Cardinals clinched the NL Central and did the whole spray-champagne-that-costs-more-than-your-rent thing, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported that King hopped on manager Tony LaRussa's back and "rode him around the clubhouse." This must have looked like an ant carrying a Cocoa Puff.

Posted 9:10 PM by Brian
THE WEAKER WEST Curious comment from Rob Neyer after Tuesday's game:

The gap between the Cardinals and Dodgers is, perhaps, not as large as their records might suggest. For one thing, the Cardinals played in a slightly weaker division than did the Dodgers.

How does he figure? If you took all the teams in the NL West besides LA, their cume record is .458. NL Central teams (besides St. Louis, of course) had a .490 winning percentage.

But wait -- part of the reason the NL Central played under .500 is because they played the Cardinals so many times. Remove all games with the Cards and the NL Central is a cumulative .501. Remove all Dodger games and the NL West is only .469. That's a considerable difference. So how does Neyer reckon the West is stronger?

Posted 2:43 PM by Brian
BOMB SQUAD Who was up and who was down after Game 1 of the Cards-Dodgers NLDS:

↑ UP: Murderer's Row

About a third of the way through this contest it looked like anybody's ballgame. The Cards had a 1-0 lead, but Woody was getting the ball up and Odalis looked pretty locked-in. He had just made quick work of the first two hitters in the bottom of the third, when --

Boom!

The Cards just exploded for five straight runs. It was brutal. Larry Walker took the first pitch he saw and drilled it into the stands in right. Pujols knocked the next pitch into centerfield. Rolen walked on five pitches. Renteria lined the first strike he saw down the line in left, and Edmonds followed up with a first-pitch shot into the rightfield bullpen.

Ten pitches, five runs, about five minutes of game time, and the game was essentially over. I couldn't help but think of a clip I saw on HBO last year, when Tommy Hearns bombed Pipino Cuevas with a hard right -- absolutely the perfect, dream punch -- in Round 2 of their 1980 welterweight title match, and Pipino was knocked cold.

Take away that 5-run outburst from today's game and we're tied 3-3 (I know, I know, if your aunt had balls she'd be your uncle too -- I'm just trying to illustrate how much we leaned on that frame). It was the ideal Cardinals inning, with all our big boys stepping up -- the first time that's happened in awhile. I hadn't realized after it was over how much I'd missed it.

↓ DOWN: September magic

Before the game there was widespread speculation that the Cards were flat. They finished the year dropping five of their last seven games, with several of their best players (Edmonds, Renteria, Marquis) in a serious funk. In fact, one could argue that the Cards hadn't played a truly meaningful game since July 20th in Chicago, making the prelude to the postseason seem like some icky form of tantric sex. Had the Cards peaked too soon? Would they be able to access the "on" switch in time for the playoffs?

The Dodgers, on the other hand, were supposedly on all cylinders, full of September magic, able to leap tall ninth-inning deficits in a single bound. But it was the Dodgers who came out looking limp and listless. By my count they hit the ball hard only three times all day (Cora's triple, Beltre's BB to Renteria in the 8th, and Wilson's 9th-inning lawn job in the 9th). Otherwise they had a lot of dink hits, broken bats, weak pop ups, and, for good measure, a dropped baseball during a rundown by Odalis Perez. Sharp they were not.

As opposed to the Cardinals, who (except for one dropped flyball by Larry Walker) looked completely focused. Illustration: on a pop-up in the 3rd inning, Jayson Werth's bat got sawed in two and the top half whistled past Scotty Rolen. Rolen kept his eye on the ball, totally unfazed by the bat, and got the job done. We also saw unusually strong at bats from Edgar Renteria (two walks after only 39 all year) and, yes, Mike Matheny.

↑ UP: Woody Williams

As usual, the Woodman looked hinky early on. He couldn't get the ball down and he was expending a lot of energy to get outs -- 25 pitches in the first inning and 61 pitches through the first three (including a 9-pitch AB to half-man/half-Matheny Brent Mayne). What's more, he had no consistent "out" pitch. He threw 49 two-strike pitches on the afternoon. Only two of them resulted in strikeouts, neither of them swinging.

But somehow Woody made everything work. His usual m.o. is to struggle through the first two or three innings, then settle into a groove and keep hitters off-balance (his opposition batting line is .290/.343/.478 in the first 30 pitches, .253/.306/.405 thereafter). He did that beautifully today. In general Woody reminds me of one of those journeyman pitchers in the early 1920's -- maybe some red-haired veteran righty/oil-rig worker in the Texarkana League -- who gets by with good control, few serious mistakes, and lots of guile.

Woody confessed earlier this week that he was thinking about retiring back in April, when it seemed like he couldn't go more than a couple innings without getting cuffed around. And if those bastards at Redbird Nation had any say-so in the matter, they would have given him a gold watch at the retirement party then turned him into glue. Here's what we had to say back on April 18th:

Woody is simply not a quality pitcher anymore. I know it; you know it; the press and the front office seem to know it; and anyone who doesn't know it isn't being totally honest with themselves.

It's a long way from that to a victory today in Game 1 of the NLDS. And next time I run into Mr. Greg Williams I'll be happy to tell him I was wrong.

↓ DOWN: Odalis Perez

Or, as Jon Miller pronounces it, Odalis PAY-rez. (I'm all for ESPN getting those Latin pronunciations right, but don't you get the impression Jon pats himself on the back every time he does? It reminds me of Mr. Van Driessen, the hippie teacher from Beavis and Butt-head, pronouncing Nicaragua like NEE-go-rah-gwa and rolling his r's over and over.)

Anyway, Perez looked pretty good for the first couple innings -- his stuff had way more bite, more giddyup, than Woody's, and even his gopherball to Pujols was a pretty good slider. (Pujols' hit there perfectly illustrated Archimedes' comment, "give me a place to stand on and I can move the earth" -- just ideal mechanics and leverage, even when it looked at first like Puj got under it.)

So Odalis was cruising along when Walker took an outside pitch and deposited well over the wall in right. (By the way, I had predicted before the game that L. Walker would be the man this series, which I have to mention because that will be the last time I correctly predict the future. Of course, if that happens, that sentence will be the last time I predict the future.)

Anyway, PAY-rez, who has a rep as an excitable guy, got pretty rattled after the home run. Pujols pounced on his next pitch, and then Perez -- who up to that point had been coming at hitters -- nibbled his way around Rolen. He fell behind Renteria too, and when he finally had to lay it in there, E-Rent cashed in by ringing a double down the line. His home run pitch to Edmonds was like throwing in the towel.

The Cards have lots of hitters who can crush lefties, which doesn't bode well for the Dodgers, as they probably won't be able to win the series without getting at least one decent performance from Perez.

↑ UP: Mike Matheny

His homer off Dessens to lead off the fourth was just insult to injury. As my brother Matt once said in a different context, "that's like letting a dog spit in your face."

↓ DOWN: Pregame video montages

Before the game ESPN showed one of those cheezy "it's playoff time!" video montages with some guy doing a raspy version of "In the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins. I started picturing some rocker dude with a coiffed five-o'clock shadow and a black tee under a blue blazer (sleeves rolled up) singing into a mic backed by Ken Loggins ex-session musicians on loan from a Coors Light commercial, and it just about deflated whatever excitement I had coming into the game. Does America still find this stuff cool? (Although I will admit, the accompanying video clips were pretty rad. They were the way NFL Films would have done them -- all artistic angles and stuff, but not self-consciously so.)

↑ UP: Tony La Russa

TLR had only three real choices to make during this game. One was starting Woody Williams. Check -- that worked. Two was moving Renteria up to fifth in the order to maximize his prowess vs. LHP. Check -- he hit a big two-run double and walked twice ahead of Jedmonds. And three was batting Walker second despite coming into the game only 1-for-15 vs. Odalis Perez. Check -- two bombs, lots of rejoicing.

Tony is now 12-3 during his five opening-round playoff series in St. Louis, which tells me he's damn good at getting his guys prepared. In fact, his playoff teams have a history of pouncing early: three runs in the first inning of Game 1 against San Diego in '96, six runs in the first inning against Hotlanta in '00, and a 12-2 pasting of Arizona to open the '02 NLDS.

↓ DOWN: Bad blood

You'd have thought these two teams would be revved up given their recent and not-so-recent history. The Cards and Dodgers are perhaps the two more storied franchises (along with the Giants) in National League history. They have the most world championships of all the NL clubs, they've stared each other down in the playoffs before (think Niedenfuer, Clark, Ozzie, and Go Crazy, Folks!), and they even mixed it up a bit this season, when Milton Bradley flicked off the Cardinals dugout in September and Gagne and La Russa got into a tit-for-tat game of rolling the ball into each other's dugouts.

And today? Well, nothing. Just a nice, polite ballgame, as if both clubs just wanted to get it out of the way and move on to Game 2. I'll take it.

↑ UP: Blowout trends

Here are all the series-opening blowouts (wins by five or more runs) since 1995 and the results for the series as a whole:

Year  Round  Winner    Loser     Score  Series Result

1995  NLDS   Reds      Dodgers     7-2      WON

1996  ALDS   Orioles   Indians    10-4      WON

1996   WS    Braves    Yanks      12-1      LOST

1997  ALDS   Orioles   Mariners    9-3      WON

1998  NLDS   Braves    Cubs        7-1      WON

1998  ALDS   Red Sox   Indians    11-3      LOST

1998  ALCS   Yanks     Indians     7-2      WON

1999  NLDS   Astros    Braves      6-1      LOST

1999  ALDS   Yanks     Rangers     8-0      WON

2001  ALDS   Indians   Mariners    5-0      LOST

2001   WS    D'backs   Yanks       9-1      WON

2002  NLDS   Cards     D'backs    12-2      WON

2004  NLDS   Cards     Dodgers     8-3      ???

2004  ALDS   Red Sox   Angels      9-3      ???

That's 8 series wins, 4 series losses, and two TBD.

↑ UP: The Cardinals

One game to nothing. Split the next four and we're onto the next round.

Posted 1:17 PM by Brian
WHO NEEDS BOB GIBSON? The importance of ace pitchers in the postseason

A few weeks ago longtime broadcaster Mike Shannon told Baseball Tonight Extra that the 2004 Cardinals were the best, most talented Redbirds squad he’d ever seen – in the regular season, that is. But in a hypothetical all-St. Louis World Series, he’d take the 1964 Cardinals for one simple reason: Bob Gibson. “You can have anybody pitching you want,” said Shannon. “If we have Gibson, I’ll take my chances against anyone.”

By almost any measure, the Cardinals have had a historic season. They won 105 games. They led the league with the most runs scored and the fewest runs allowed. They won their division by more than a dozen games. And yet they’re considered vulnerable in the playoffs precisely because they lack an ace starter – or, if you will, because they don’t have Bob Gibson.

The Minnesota Twins, on the other hand, had a much weaker regular season than the Cardinals. They won “only” 92 games. They finished 10th in the league in runs scored. They outscored their opponents by only 66 runs, even though they played in the worst division in baseball. And yet the Twins are considered extremely dangerous heading into October because they’re frontloaded with a fearsome one-two punch of Johan Santana and Brad Radke. Conventional wisdom says you don’t want to stumble across those bad-asses in a five-game series.

All of which raises the question: does it help to have an ace pitcher in the postseason? On one level the answer is obvious – of course it helps. Even the biggest crapshooter would admit that Randy Johnson is a far bigger playoff asset than, say, Steve Sparks. So let me rephrase the question: does having an ace in the postseason help any more than it does in the regular season? Can an ace turn a good team in September into a great team in October (think Orel Hershiser, 1988)? Are their skills magnified in the postseason? Do they tend to dominate short series? And if so, how much?

To answer these questions, we have to ask ourselves a series of smaller questions. For starters –

What is an Ace?

Before we could conduct any study on this topic, we need a working definition of the ace pitcher. I sought out a number of different criteria, ran into lots of walls, threw whole sets of data away, and finally settled on a definition I liked:

An ace pitcher is anyone who has a SNWAR of at least 6.0 for any given season, OR who has a combined SNWAR of 10.0 for the second of two consecutive seasons.

SNWAR is, of course, a stat devised by Michael Wolverton of Baseball Prospectus. It’s the number of wins above what a replacement-level pitcher would get in the same number of decisions with the same amount of run support. To be six SNWAR, then, you’ve got to be both supremely talented and sturdy – in other words, an ace.

Next I applied this definition to every year going back to 1973 (the first year BP includes SNWAR data on their stats page), making proportional adjustments for strike-shortened seasons. This gave me a list of every ace pitcher over a 32-year period. Take, for example, 1998. You had seven pitchers that year who met the 6.0 SNWAR threshold: Roger Clemens (8.1), Greg Maddux (7.7), Kevin Brown (7.6), Tommy Glavine (7.5), Pedro (7.1), Kenny Rogers (6.9), and Al Leiter (6.4). And then I added four more pitchers to our “ace list” by virtue of a combined 10.0 SNWAR from ’97-’98: David Cone, Mike Mussina, Curt Schilling, and the Big Unit.

That’s 11 aces altogether, which is fairly customary for all years in the study. Another way to look at it is to say that ace pitchers are among the five or six best pitchers in each league. That sounds about right, doesn’t it? Using this criteria for establishing “acedom,” then, we get a list of names that are, more often than not, very familiar to the most casual fans of baseball history: Palmer, Seaver, Sutton, Stieb, Gooden, Mussina, Glavine, Maddux, Clemens.

Now, of course, not all these guys are considered aces every year. Clemens was an ace for the most number of years (13 of 14 years, from ’86 to ’99), whereas most other aces tend to come and go. John Tudor was a bonafide ace for only one year (1985), Barry Zito twice (2002, 2003), and Mike Scott three times (1986, 1987, 1988). Of course, some of the names that slipped into the study are annoyingly counterintuitive (like Ed Whitson is considered an ace in 1990, but not Jose Rijo), but by and large I think the group as a whole fits the common perception of what an ace is.

So now that we’ve got a definition of these ace pitchers, what can we say about them? Are teams that have them more likely to win in the postseason?

Here’s what I did to answer that question:

First I took that list of aces and determined whether they played in the playoffs or not. Kevin Appier was an ace for six straight years in the mid-‘90s, but his teams never got to the postseason, so he’s out. J.R. Richard was an ace in 1980, and his team DID make the playoffs; but Richard suffered a stroke at mid-season and didn’t play in October either, so he’s out too.

What we’re left with is a complete list of playoff matchups, going back to 1973, and the number of aces on each team. Next I looked specifically at pairings where one team was outmatched when it came to ace starters. I’ll explain by walking through one year – let’s take, oh, say, 1974.

In the ALCS that year you had Oakland vs. Baltimore. Both teams had one ace pitcher – Catfish Hunter for the A’s (Ken Holtzman just missed) and Jim Palmer for the O’s. So we toss that matchup from our study – after all, we can’t learn much from aces that cancel each other out. Over in the NL that year it was Los Angeles vs. Pittsburgh. L.A. had two aces – Don Sutton and Andy Messersmith – pitted against the Pirates, who had zero aces. Now this we can use in our study. The Dodgers won that series, so that’s one (albeit small) bit of evidence to support the notion that aces help win short series.

In the World Series that year, the A’s (and Hunter) played the Dodgers (and Sutton/Messersmith). So that’s useful too, as the A’s were outnumbered 2 aces to 1. Again, the hypothesis says that should favor the Dodgers in a short series, although perhaps not to the same degree. We shall see…

So I went through and counted up the aces for each and every playoff series from 1973 up to the present. After tossing out the contests with an equal number of aces, that left 75 series with a disproportionate numbers of aces. There were all kinds of configurations – no aces vs. one, two vs. two, three vs. none, etc. The most aces any team had was three, which happened several times (Glavine/Maddux/Smoltz was far and away the most common trio).

We can chart out all these combinations. Below, you’ll see that the “underdogs” are listed first – that is, the team with fewer aces. In line 1, for example, I’ve listed all the series in which a team with no aces went up against a team with one ace (as in the ’98 Indians vs. the Red Sox and Pedro Martinez). I’ve also listed the wins and losses for each type of matchup, but not that W/L totals are for entire series, not games, and not games started specifically by ace pitchers. Here’s the chart:

 Aces     Wins Losses

0 vs. 1    24    22

0 vs. 2     2     8

0 vs. 3     2     1

1 vs. 2     3     3

1 vs. 3     1     3

2 vs. 3     2     0

That’s not exactly what I expected. I mean, sure, I thought the mania for ace pitching might be a little bit overblown, but I didn’t expect teams with no aces to outperform teams that actually had one ace starter. Even in general (that is, including games where a team with no aces goes up against a team with one, two, or three aces) the “ace-less” teams hold their own, going 28-31 overall. If you include all teams that are “out-aced” – i.e., even if they have an ace themselves – the cumulative record is 37-38.

This suggests to me that having an ace pitcher in the postseason is not nearly as important as the media makes it out to be. In fact, by this one measurement, you might plausibly conclude that whether you have an ace or not makes no real difference at all.

But wait! Aren’t there some crucial elements to this study that we’re leaving out?

Why yes, of course there are. Let’s tackle the most glaring ones:

1) Home field advantage

One could easily argue that teams win without aces because they also happen to have home-field advantage. And if you believe that home-field advantage is a larger influence on the outcome of games than the presence of an ace starter, then this could skew our results.

Two problems with this theory: one, as Tom Tippett and Tom Ruane have shown, home-field advantage increases a team’s chances of winning a playoff series by only 1-2%. So it’s not as likely to influence the numbers as you might think. Secondly, teams that won postseason series even though they were “out-aced” did not do it because they had home-field advantage. Of the 37 “out-aced” teams that won their series, 17 of them had home-field advantage, while 20 did not. Home field, then, does not account for why teams tend to break without an ace starter.

2) Ace starters getting a disproportionate number of starts

I conducted my study simply by counting the presence of ace starters. But of course, not all aces are used the same way. Here’s a set of examples:

In 1988 the Dodgers won their division by 7 games and set their rotation to maximize starts from their big man, Orel Hershiser. Thus they were able to push Hershiser to the max in the NLCS, starting him in Games 1, 3, and 7, and even bringing him in to save Game 4. And of course, the Dodgers won.

Compare this with the Orioles predicament in the ’96 ALCS. Their ace, Mike Mussina, was used at the tail end of their victory over the Indians in the previous round of the playoffs. As a result, Mussina didn’t pitch in the ALCS until Game 3 against the Yanks. It was the only start he’d get. The Orioles ended up losing the series.

Now if you took just those two series, you might conclude that teams with ace starters tend to lose whenever they can’t lean on them as much as they’d like. But such is not the case. Ace pitchers started 31% of all games in which their team was victorious for the series. They also started 29% of all games when their team lost the series. The difference is negligible.

3) The supporting cast

This is a big one. Ace pitchers might not magically transform good teams into great teams, but what if their supporting case isn’t very good to begin with? Take, for example, the 1988 ALCS between Oakland and Boston. The Red Sox won only 89 games that year, narrowly edging Detroit (by one game) for the division crown. However, they did have an ace pitcher – 25-year-old Roger Clemens – who finished with 18 wins and a nifty 2.93 ERA. His presence alone might have made his team a formidable contender, except...

Their playoff foe was the Oakland A’s, who did not have an ace of their own, but they were superior to the Sox in almost every other way. They won 104 games on the year, marched through the AL West, and fielded a team much like the 2004 Cardinals, with a core of great hitters, good relief work, and steady if unspectacular starting pitching. No one back then honestly thought the presence of Clemens was enough to make up for Canseco, Eckersley, McGwire, et al, and Oakland’s victory over Boston that year doesn’t do much to destroy the idea that ace starters dominate short series.

So we need to make adjustments to our chart above. Namely, we need to add a “degree of difficulty” component, so that Oakland’s win over Boston won’t be considered as meaningful as, say, St. Louis’ victory over Schilling, Unit, and the Arizona Diamondbacks in 2002.

Fortunately, someone has already done the research that provides us with the proper expected winning percentage for each series. Tom Tippett and Tom Ruane, who we mentioned earlier, showed that teams with superior records in the regular season tend to win more often in the postseason. (Thus it’s not the utter crapshoot you might think if you took Billy Beane too literally.) In fact, they came up with a table that tells you just how often a team might be expected to win given each team’s record and the given length of the series at hand.

Using Tippett and Ruane’s formula, then, we can make adjustments to the A’s-Sox series I just mentioned. The A’s finished the regular season 104-58, for a .642 winning percentage. The Red Sox finished 89-73, a .549 winning percentage. The chance of a .642 team beating a .549 team in any one game is .595 (we can thank Bill James’ log5 method for that, which Tippett and Ruane use liberally). Over the course of seven games, teams that win games 59.5% of the time can expect to win the entire series 69.0% of the time.

Therefore, when the A’s defeated the Red Sox in the 1988 ALCS, we still give them credit for the win, but we measure this credit in relation to their expected winning percentage. (You can look at it like they get .31 victories for defeating Boston – that’s 1.000 minus .690 – although that might be more confusing than anything else.)

So let’s apply these adjustments for each series, and let’s start with series in which teams were outmanned one ace to none. As we stated above, there were 46 such series, and the teams without an ace managed to win 24 of them, going 24-22 overall. The cumulative expected winning percentage of the “ace-less” teams comes out to .497. So clearly that 24-22 record outperforms what we’d guess based on winning percentage alone, which lends further credence to the idea that aces are overrated when it comes to postseason play.

Likewise, if you took ALL the games in which teams had fewer aces than the other team (all 75 games I mentioned above), you would expect the teams with fewer aces to go 34-41. But again, they were 37-38, above what you’d expect.

And finally, teams that had no aces whatsoever – whether they played teams with one, two, or three aces – went 28-31 in the postseason. Their expected winning percentage in those series was 29-32 (or, more precisely, 28.6 – 30.4). For once that’s lower than you’d expect, but it’s such a small difference that it’s not significant.

4) Five- vs. Seven-game series

If the idea is that aces step up in short series, you would expect that the shorter the series, the more often the team with the ace is going to win. But again, this is not the case:

* Teams that were “out-aced” 1 to 0 went 24-22 in postseason series. They went 12-11 in five-game series and 12-11 in seven-game series. So no edge there.

* Teams that were “out-aced” 2 to 0 went only 2-8 in postseason series, but it’s hard to claim it was due mostly to home field. Seven of the 8 wins by teams with aces were in 5 games... however, both of the 0-2 upsets were in five games too, so that doesn’t tell us much.

All in all the length of the series does not seem to be a major contributing factor.

5) Historical Changes

It’s possible that this study goes back too far – to the early ‘70s, when four-man playoff rotations weren’t out of line with four-man rotations in the regular season. Could it be that (the legend of Bob Gibson notwithstanding) that postseason aces have become more prominent only in the last ten or twenty years?

Dayn Perry – a fellow Cards fans obviously interested in this same area – published a study over at Baseball Prospectus this morning that suggests that ace pitchers are important in playoff series since 1995. Teams that are frontloaded (i.e., if they have two pitchers in the top 30 of Support Neutral Lineup-Adjusted Value Added) win at a .534 clip in playoffs since 1995, while teams that are relatively weak (i.e., one or no pitchers in the final regular-season top 30) win only .438 of the time.

I had a stricter definition of an ace than Perry (I’m interested more in people like Santana and Schilling than Jaret Wright and Rodrigo Lopez), and as such I didn’t find any new trends over the last ten years. Nonetheless, this area deserves more investigation, just not here.

What does this all mean?

My data suggests that teams with ace pitchers do no better and no worse than you’d expect based on their regular-season winning percentage alone. This might not seem like a big deal, but it’s a key point. Take the Yankess-Twins matchup in Round 1 of the AL playoffs. People will claim that the Yankees, because they have no true ace (or really anyone close this year), will come in with a dubious advantage, despite the 101 wins they piled up over 162 games. The Twins, on the other hand, will loom larger than their regular season record suggests, solely because of their Big Two of Johan Santana and Brad Radke. In fact, you’ve probably heard the phrase “you don’t want to face those guys in a short series” several times over the past few weeks.

But the history of postseason matchups does not bear this out. To be clear, this does not mean that it’s not helpful to have ace pitching in the postseason. It is. But ace pitchers are no more important in the postseason than they are in the regular season. However your team adds or subtracts runs from the scoreboard – be it relievers, defense, #3 starters, or simply outscoring your opponents to death – that’s the key, not whether they’re embodied in one or two frontline starters.

When I first began this study, I expected that there would be some measurable advantage to having an ace, so that one might be able to say something like “having an ace on your postseason roster raises your expected series winning percentage .020 points.” Instead I found no added benefit whatsoever. This bodes well for a team like the Cardinals, who have plenty of “ace hitters” and “ace middle relievers” but no ace starter. And until someone comes along with a more sophisticated methodology and adjusts my findings, I can only conclude that the theory of aces dominating the postseason is a myth.

Posted 7:04 PM by Brian
THE LONG SHADOW OF 2004 105 wins. I like it. In fact, I’d sorta been rooting for 105 wins for the last couple weeks, for three main reasons – one, because it bests the mark set by the ’88 A’s as the winningest of all Tony La Russa’s teams; two, because I kinda wanted the ’44 Cards (probably the best team in franchise history) to keep their record; and three, because it betters the win total of the 1984 Detroit Tigers. I know that might not sound like much to you, but when I was younger the Tigers were the paragon of excellence. See, that was before the Mets came along and won 108 in ’86 (besides, I hated that club; they were the paragons of something, but to me it wasn’t excellence), and it was after the ’75 Big Red Machine outfit that won 108 games, which I was too young to follow. Something about that Tigers squad – who started the season 35-5 – really captured fans of my generation, and to surpass them in the All-Time All-Universe standings is pretty sweet.

Is this the greatest Cardinals team of all time? I don’t have time to answer that here, and some would say that I shouldn’t answer that here anyway, for the Cards can’t be the greatest anything unless and until they win the World Series. But we can make some preliminary judgments. Rob Neyer and Eddie Epstein, in their fine book Baseball Dynasties, measure a team’s strength by taking the ratio of runs scored to runs against, and then determines the standards deviation of that total to the rest of the league as whole. (They use standard deviation in order to normalize their comparisons – talent is much more diffuse today than it was in earlier eras, meaning it’s much harder to dominate.) By this measurement, the ’04 Cards aren’t as strong as the mid-‘40s squads. More surprisingly, they aren’t even as strong as some recent teams:

1. ‘44 Cardinals      3.05

2. ‘42 Cardinals      2.94

3. ‘01 Cardinals      2.83

4. ‘02 Cardinals      2.80

5. ‘43 Cardinals      2.79

6. ‘04 Cardinals      2.77

7. ‘00 Cardinals      2.76

8. ‘46 Cardinals      2.74

9.  ‘96 Cardinals     2.71

10. ‘82 Cardinals     2.53

I gotta be honest, I find that list highly dubious. The ’96 Cards higher than any franchise team from the ‘80s? The ’01 Cards superior to this year’s vintage? Either I plugged in the numbers wrong, or Neyer and Epstein’s method is screwy, or there’s some mysterious x factor that I’m not aware of when I size up baseball teams. Nonetheless, it’s grist for conversation, if nothing else.

Now, about today’s action... My buddy Brian tells me that the Red Sox got ripped by members of the Boston media last week for celebrating their wild card win, as if they were taking their eyes off the prize, “settling” for a lesser crown. So at the risk of offending the sensibilities of Dan Shaughnessy, I’ll say that I was tickled by today’s win. There were nice moments strewn about like bread crumbs – Pujols going over 50 doubles, Tony Womack solidifying his .300+ average, Julian Tavarez making his first appearance since his parole, Taguchi swatting a double and a triple and proving me wrong about his usefulness, but best of all was undoubtedly Ray Lankford’s Ted Williams-esque home run on what may be his final day at Busch Stadium.

Ray hadn’t gone deep since June 10th, so the home run came totally out of the blue, a nice parting gift to the fans and himself. In some ways Ray’s 2004 was a microcosm of his career as a whole in St. Louis – a thrilling start, some distress at the end, but a nice little cherry on top before the final curtain. That’s good stuff.

Now, we’ll assess the playoff picture soon enough – including a long post I hope to have up tomorrow, about the so-called hazards of going into the postseason without an ace pitcher. But for now let’s celebrate how far the Cards have come, at least until Season 2 begins, Tuesday at noon.

Posted 1:05 PM by Brian
IZZY MATCHES LEE I've always liked Jason Isringhausen because he grew up rooting for the Cardinals -- a rarity these days given how many players come from Latin America, California, the Sun Belt, and other places outside the Midwest. So I was thrilled on Friday when he tied the team record for saves, with 47.

The guy he tied is also one of my favorite Cardinals of all time, Lee Smith. I emailed a buddy of mine who worked as an usher in the waning days of Whiteyball and the dawning days of Torreball, and asked him to give me his impressions of Lee Arthur. Here's how he replied:

Lee Smith - well, he lives (or at least he did) on a big old farm in Castor, LA with his wife, who is as big as he is, and about 50 cars. Also, he's pretty well spoken and was a big time high school basketball player down in LA. He also used to nap in the clubhouse until the 6th inning and then amble down to the pen in right, underneath the first base side field boxes. You could hear his spikes clicking as he came down the concourse. He never had a "game face" or anything while he walked down there, either. If you said Hi or something he would always give you the head nod or even speak to you.

Best Smith story - one Sunday morning, around 11 AM, I arrived at the Stadium and went down to the concourse just mentioned to get to the ushers' locker room. Coming the opposite direction (on its way from the players' parking lot) was a golf cart with Lee Arthur riding shotgun. It slowed down for some reason right by me and I could see that Lee was wearing a full denim Kangol outfit (circa 1991), plenty of gold chains, and had a Chinet plate heaped with crispy bacon on his lap. Lee was digging into a piece and seemed pretty possesive of the whole pile.

Mmmm, bacon. I have two favorite Lee Smith stories of my own. The first was when Big Lee was looking into the catcher for the sign one day, and a bee landed on his nose. Lee didn't call timeout, he didn't go into crazy paroxysms trying to shoo the bee away from him (like most people would) -- he just very calmly grabbed the bee, tossed it aside, then went right into his windup. Completely unflustered, as always.

My other favorite Lee story came when he played with the Red Sox. A college friend of mine visited Fenway Park and got to meet a few players before the game. Lee Smith shook his hand and said, "You’re in college, huh? I’m thinking of going to college. I’m gonna major in pussy."

Posted 10:39 AM by Brian
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CUBS? No matter how bad things got in Chicago this year -- even after they lost Prior in the Spring, even after they got deep-sixed by Albert Pujols back in July -- I never for a second thought they wouldn't make the postseason. Honestly. They always seemed like one of the top three or four teams in baseball, and on some days they seemed more formidable than anybody, Cards included.

So what happened over the past week (and I know you know the details already) has me completely stunned. Not stunned the way a Cubs fan might be stunned (dazed, drooling), but stunned like someone who walks out of the house one day and finds a free Mercedes in his driveway. I just can't believe it happened.

Within hours of the Cubs debacle, autopsy reports were filed around the Web, all asking "who killed the Cubs?" Right now there seem to be five main suspects:

1. The players. The Cubs lineup did not step up down the stretch, pure and simple. Here are some notable lines during the Cubs' collapse (these cover the last three series of the year, against the Mets, Reds, and Braves):

              AVG   OBP   SLG

Patterson    .108  .195  .243

Lee          .088  .279  .176

Barrett      .040  .040  .080

Oddly enough, those were the same three guys who were "difference makers" this year, whose career seasons helped the Cubs compensate for losses to Prior, Wood, and Sosa, and got the team where they were two weeks ago.

In this way, says Al Yellon, the Cubs resemble the '87 Blue Jays -- who had a 3.5 game lead with seven to go and a lead with two out and two strikes in the ninth inning -- and yet couldn't seal the deal. But as Derek Smart points out, the Cubs failed almost every big test for months now:

August, in particular, was full of such chances: three games against the Giants and three against the Padres, an opportunity to put some daylight between them and their closest competitors, ending in 2-1 series losses in both cases. At the end of the month, a four game series in Wrigley against the Astros. After the Cub victory in the first contest, a gulf of seven games separated the two clubs. The Astros went on to win the last three in convincing fashion, and one could argue, provided the catalyst to their amazing late-season surge, and now probable wildcard berth. What's important to me about those August series is mirrored in these last two: the Cubs held destiny in their hands, it was theirs for the taking, and in the end they simply could not do it.
That's been the story of the Cubs for weeks now -- good personnel, bad execution.

2. Dusty Baker. Baker easily could have been my choice (over Larry Bowa) for Least Valuable Manager. I'd still pick Bowa (after all, he was still sitting at the kiddie table while Dusty had a chance over the weekend), but both managers underperformed hugely this season.

Alex Ciepley and Christian Ruzich have an awesome post in which they discuss the problems posed by Dusty's tenure in Chicago. On one hand, he's changed the culture of losing in Chicago; on the other, that's not good enough. If the team wants to win it all, they need the kind of tactical competence that'll win games in crunch time, and Dusty is not the best guy for that job.

Until now, the best argument for Dusty is that he's a genius at motivating players -- so much so that it's worth his strategic shortcomings; it's a good tradeoff. But with all the anxiety and shrillness coming out of Chicago this year, you gotta wonder if Dusty has lost his touch as a motivational guru too.

3. Lady Luck. As Todd Walker said on Saturday,

"I can't explain it. We score six, they score eight. We score three, they score four. This entire week -- I've never seen anything like it. It's a freak deal. We've hit more bullets right at people than I've ever seen in my life. It comes down to luck. And over the last week, we've had none."

This sounds like mere griping, but I think Walker has a point -- the team has had awful luck this entire season. They're 19-30 in one-run games and underperforming their Pythagorean win total by a whopping six games (worst in baseball). Add in weird injuries (Sosa, sneezing) and you've got yourself one of the unluckiest seasons in memory. The final out on Friday afternoon -- with Derek Lee hitting a b.b. up the middle that deflected off the pitcher and right to Rafael Furcal for the out -- was a microcosm for the Cubs' entire season.

4. Jim Hendry. I thought the Cubs GM did a great job over the winter, acquiring Lee, Barrett, Hawkins, Rusch, and Maddux, and he did an even better job in the summer by landing Nomar for very little. Hell, even Neifi Perez (.377/.406/.557 in September!) worked out well for him.

But there were a few things he never shored up, namely, the Cubs bullpen (particularly finding a guy who can consistently get out lefties) and the team's inability to reach base frequently (they were 11th in the league in OBP). The poor bullpen caused a lot of losses in tight games, and the poor OBP caused a lot of home runs with no one on base. What's more, Hendry is ultimately responsible for hiring Dusty Baker (see #2) and his coaching staff (see the laughably bad Wendell Kim), so he doesn't get a free pass here.

5. No one. Dave Beyer points out that no one killed the Cubs because the Cubs aren't dead. They had their first back-to-back winning season since 1972, set a team record for home runs, saw Corey Patterson turn into a solid player and Aramiz Ramirez and Carlos Zambrano turn into great players, and, with Mark Prior's giant performance on Thursday, got a glimpse of what's to come in 2005. The Cubs might be dead this year, but we haven't heard the last from this team.