Results tagged ‘ NLDS ’
That was the sound of the Washington Nationals faithful… before the NLDS Game 3 even started.
That’s right, while the Cardinals personnel was being announced prior to the game, Nationals fans invoked their inner “Philly-ness” and slaughtered the birds on the bat with their vocal angst (the birds on the bat slaughtered the Nats on the field).
The booing only increased towards raucous levels through the first and second innings as the Cardinals piled up runs. By the 7th inning, most of the fans were already gone, giving up on their team before the game was over.
Classy, D.C. Very classy.
I’m still scratching my head on this one. When did D.C. fans become so entitled? They haven’t won anything yet!
Nationals Park is one of my favorite baseball havens of all time. I have been there several times now, most of those games against the Cardinals, and I have never seen nor heard the fans act like such a-holes.
I guess the transient Beltway fans have taken over for the real deal — if the real deal actually exists.
Meanwhile, the Cardinals (and their fans) remain awesome. I’m proof. Seriously.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Hard for me to find any words to say this morning; but I will say that last night’s NLDS Game 5 between the Cardinals and Phillies was… well… one of the best games I’ve ever seen. I tip my cap to the Phils, but today is a good day to be a Redbird.
During Games One and Two of the National League Division Series featuring my beloved St. Louis Cardinals and NL powerhouse Philadelphia Phillies, my damn Droid has been blowin’ up with furious text messages, emails and
porn links Twitpics. I’ve noticed a trend: fellow Redbirds fans furious that we haven’t put a pounding on the Phils.
So… uh… let’s back up here.
First of all, love them as I do, I am perfectly aware that the Cards barely snuck into the postseason. In fact, considering the injuries we sustained and the fact that Albert Pujols didn’t become Albert Pujols until a couple months into the campaign, MAKING THE PLAYOFFS AT ALL was a tremendous above and beyond achievement. And remember, if the Braves hadn’t tanked, we wouldn’t even be here.
But we are here, so that’s something to be happy about. Let’s just not be too pompous in our own expectations, shall we? Admit it. On paper, we’re overmatched. We should be down 2-0. We shouldn’t even have a shot. Luckily for us, the game isn’t played on paper, we’re tied up 1-1, and right now we have just as much of a shot as anybody.
BE HAPPY FOR THAT!
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Nothin’. Nada. ZE-RO.
Which is why waiting is so hard. Sure, we all knew the day would come when Albert Pujols would reach free agency and have the opportunity to test the free agent market — a market that would surely reward him with a plus $30 million a year contract. But we’ve also known that his underlying, true desire is to remain a Redbird. For life. To work it out.
I can’t take it, dear readers! It’s too disturbing an unknown to just let it be and hope for the best, especially now that a timely gauntlet the size of Barry Bonds’ forehead has been thrown down. To be honest, until a deal has been struck and Albert’s mug is securely tied to the birds on the bat forever and ever, I probably won’t get much non-beer-aided sleep.
My feelings that Bill DeWitt and John Mozeliak would not have offered Matt Holliday the sort of contract he received unless they had a plan for re-signing Pujols longterm remain intact. No front office would be so stupid as to waste Albert’s money on a guy who dropped the 2009 NLDS ball. I think.
Excuse me. Sorry. Won’t happen again (today).
Of course, I’m no dummy. And I do realize that signing Albert to the kind of multi-year contract his ability commands would probably bankrupt the team’s flexibility to build a solid supporting cast around him in the future… but I, like many naive Cardinal maniacs out there, still cling to the idea that Albert would be hip to such a situation and be an active part in deferring funds so that a full team could be assembled, to win.
‘Cuz after all, that’s what Albert really wants.
He wants to win.
And so do I.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to concentrate on that desire until this contract situation is over.
You have 27 days, boys. 27 days.
Get ‘er done.
And don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
If I’m a Californian, I’m not too excited about the two gubernatorial choices jockeying for my November vote. Jerry Brown? More like Jerry Boring. Meg Whitman? Uh… you invented eBay, Meg, not the actual internet (Al Gore did that), so don’t be so proud of yourself.
To be honest, I don’t think most Californians even know there’s an impending gubernatorial race going on. With so many distractions, like the Kardashians and Alex Smith and The Hills… when does one have time to care about politics?
You needn’t worry, California. Your man — though barely known just a few weeks ago — is Cody Ross.
After being fed to the waiver wire in August, Ross was reluctantly picked up by the Giants; his timely bat and quiet confidence has since turned into the bargain of the year.
He banged one out against Derek Lowe to break up a no-hitter in the NLDS.
He banged TWO out against Roy Halladay in Game One of the NLCS.
He banged ANOTHER out against Roy Oswalt in Game Two of the NLCS.
That’s a lot of friggin’ bangin’…
And for a state that’s known to bang, I think Cody Ross should get a shot.
Hate me ‘cuz I think outside the box (and occasionally use tired cliches), just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Things should be much, much clearer now.
Things seem a little topsy-turvy so far in the MLB playoffs. We still
have a long ways to go but I’m feeling a little confused as to who is
doing what and why. It helped me a little when I read Allen’s playoff
preview but I still find myself wondering who will actually come out on
top. So, what do you think Jeff? And considering your Cardinals aren’t
looking too good, I want to hear the truth, not your hopes.
Okay, Cheryl. It’s the truth you want, is it? You want the truth? Ha!
Neither can I.
That’s why I’ve been conducting a little research into one of my favorite adult beverages: Kalamazoo’s very own Bell’s Oberon beer. And this is what I’ve discovered:
Created by Bar Stools
Either that or getting swept in the National League Division Series.
As I sip on this here 16th bottle, let me disclose *burp*… the er… um… *hiccup*… thissdsk is whaat I knoooow.
- Yankees… good
- Angels goooooooooooooder…
- Dodgers *hiccup*, er… I djslamurss… Padilla is uuuuuugly!!!
- Rockies… brrrrr… remember Dante Bichette?
So there… you *burp*, have it, Chhhhhheryl. Maybe it’s not as *hiccup* articulified and edumacated as Mr. *burp* Krause’s baseball-politico sex romp of an essay (ha! I allllmost wrote “Ese!” like “Hola vato! Que hay de nuevo!?”)…
… but… er… it’ll do. I’ll sleep this off and be back to my normal, blathering, pedantic ssssself tomorrow.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m schnnnnnockered, Cheryl, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m not Vicente “I AM FLOPSWEAT” Padilla.
I have been punched in the back of the head. I have been called a f^g. I have been kicked in the legs while relieving myself in the men’s room in between innings.
I have been told my mother will rot in hell. I have had beer thrown on me. I have been spit on.
So it is certainly no surprise to me that a bunch of Wrigleyville yahoos placed a severed goat head atop the infamously scary Harry Caray statue on the corner of Sheffield and Addison yesterday.
The curse of the billy goat — still haunting the not-so-friendly-if-you-wear-Cardinal-red confines — lives on, dear readers; and apparently, people still take it seriously. Very seriously.
They take it so seriously that they are willing to act like bigger a-holes than they are already perceived to be.
But such is life as a “lovable loser”, I suppose.
Impressed was I last year, before the National League Division Series, when the Cubs went for a more subtle approach to ending their poor luck: praying to God. After the Greek Orthodox Reverend Father spread holy water throughout the clubhouse, Ryan Dempster responded by quickly walking seven batters; and the Cubs went on to lose three straight lackluster games to the Los Angeles (perhaps Holy) Dodgers.
Guess God don’t like no posers, ya’ll.
I was just thinking, Cub fans: perhaps ye should combine thy wasted efforts into one successful go-for-all. Call on Bishop Tom Burns and his iconic regimental mascot (a goat no less) to bless thy dump of a field in that oh-so-vigilante neighborhood and ask him to pray for your forgiveness — for all thy slander-slinging, grudge-grovelling and curse-coveting.
Couldn’t hurt, right?
Well… nah… I just realized, when your fan base is more known for this…
…than winning baseball games, you really don’t have a prayer, do you?
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.