Results tagged ‘ Playoffs ’
I ran the Chicago Marathon yesterday, so pain is on my mind today. Obviously, the Cardinals’ loss to Milwaukee didn’t make me feel much better; but as I sit here with ice on my quads, a beer in my hand and a masochistic grin on my face, I continue to remind myself that a) things are gonna get better b) it’s a MARATHON not a sprint and c) we signed up for this.
With every pitch, with every swing (every stride, every step) our feelings and emotions are fully invested. We worked hard to get here and we’re not gonna lay down and die just because we’re a little knocked down. Instead, we’re gonna lace ’em up, pound the pavement and enjoy the burn.
With a smile.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(Image via Christian Petersen/Getty Images)
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.
There is a movement coming. Axel Foley is coming.
I’ve been trying to get over my most recent trampoline accident and my cat circus just went bankrupt… BUT!!! One of my favorite cites (DETROIT) is having a renaissance. I got Iraqi, German and Chicago in me, yes. But I’m thinking that maybe I watched Beverly Hills Cop too many times and listened to too much Motown, because I got definitely got some Detroit in me too. In fact, I feel the need to go undercover to find out what Detroit’s new secret is. Maybe in drag?!?!
If those Chrysler ads don’t pump you up then YOU HAVE NO SOUL. I want cars that talk back to you. DETROIT CAN GIVE YOU THAT! And I want a lot of things back in my life. I want sideburns back. I want Paul Reiser and Judge Reinhold back. And though I don’t smoke, I want people to bring smoking indoors back!!!
This song has nothing to do with Axel Foley, nor the Motor City, but something about it makes me feel like I’m in the mitten. (Or is Michigan a glove?) Anyway, it gets me pumped up for my second city so much that when I hear it I can’t help but take a swig of a cold Samuel Jackson before pouring a little out for Jack Kevorkian and Gilda Radner. (I was going to mention Barry Gordy here but I just googled him and he’s still alive!!!)
The freaks are coming out! Lions, Tigers, and Wolverines …oh my! This is the best gift life could ever give our fellow RSBS writer, Allen.
The Tigers!!! Verlander makes me woozy. Miguel Cabrera is the Natural. And bad@$$ Jim Leyland is The Marlboro Man! If Sam Elliott had turned down his role in The Big Lebowski, the Coen Brothers would have had ol man Leyland on the phone in a jiffy.
His Tigers can do it all. And if you want, they can also chain you to a wall in a sex dungeon and make you watch two octogenarians go at it with mayonnaise all over them. NOW THAT’S PROGRESS.
Michigan State basketball couldn’t save Michigan but Emmmminnneeemmmm, the Lions and Verlander will by golly.
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And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
For the first time EVER in RSBS Podcast history, Jeff, Allen and Johanna all meet IN THE SAME ROOM! That’s right, no phone lines, no Skype, just a microphone and three unfettered opinions overlapping and slip-slapping without pause. Among the topics of discussion are the Tigers, the Cardinals (it’s PLAYOFFS, duh!), an Ozzie Guillen-less Chicago, “blowing” it down the stretch, why you should see Catching Hell and much, much more!
Now getchyer beer and getcho happy on!
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Recorded Saturday, October 1, 2011
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.
Holy crap. September 28, 2011. Has there ever been a better day of baseball?
South Bend, IN
One of the greatest aspects of our hallowed national pastime is that every day has the potential to bring greatness. You might see a no hitter. You might see a triple play. You might see four homeruns in one game by the same player.
In fact, just this season I witnessed Derek Jeter collect five hits in a game. TWICE. I saw Justin Upton hit a broken bat homerun. I saw Mariano Rivera become the undisputed king of the save.
I also saw back-t0-back bunt basehits to start off a game. I saw Shelley Duncan have the defensive game of his life by making three nearly identical amazing grabs in left to rob the Rangers. And I saw Adam Dunn get a base hit off a lefty.
Magic. Baseball has it. And some days it has it more than others.
I would put September 28, 2011 in that category for sure, because on that day FOUR games provided unparallelled magical endings, nearly simultaneously.
But I also can’t think of September 28th without thinking about 2007 Game 163 or the 2008 Game 163 or the 2009 Game 163!!! In fact, I still consider that 2009 Tigers v. Twins contest to be the most jaw-dropping game I have ever witnessed with my own two eyes. Clearly, when we reach the end of September and regular season games carry the weight of sending teams on to capture even more glory, the potential for being among the best is like a batting practice fastball.
Right down central.
In the end though, what qualifies as the “best day in baseball” is obviously relative. For me, I can’t seem to get past October 27, 2006.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
**Have a topic you want to see us Filibuster? Interested to know why Mr. Krause walks with an odd limp? Send us your Filibuster questions by emailing firstname.lastname@example.org or by commenting below.
As one who is acutely aware of the aggravating effects of speaking in unchecked and unvetted absolutes, I must choose my words wisely, especially after witnessing baseball miracle after miracle after miracle. But, judging from the number of cardiac arrests I had in the comforts of my own home last evening, I can honestly say — WITH COMPLETE AND UNSHAKEABLE FAITH — that September 28, 2011 will go down as the greatest single day of regular season baseball games I have ever watched.
Words… ah, these words… not even they can do my feelings justice:
Baseball. It just doesn’t get any better than baseball, my friends.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Over the last several days, the St. Louis Cardinals have done a number on my heart rate, sending my anxiety levels soaring with on-again-off-again torments akin to those of jilted lovers past. Are the Cardinals trying to teach me a lesson for giving up on them in August? Do they not know that I have kowtowed my ignorance, begged them for compassion? Pleaded for forgiveness?
I NEVER LEFT YOU, MY FRIENDS. I COULD NEVER LEAVE YOU. SO STOP FREAKING ME OUT.
There are three games left. They’re behind the Braves by one game. And they get to play the LOLstros.
Win, and there is great potential that I will break things in my apartment from all the excitement. Lose, and there is great potential that I will break things in my apartment from all the excitement.
I need to get out of the house.
So I’ll be at Sox Park, where the home team will put you to sleep faster than a handful of benzodiazepines chased with a bottle of scotch. I’m hoping the visiting Jays can distract me from the tension filled anxiety of my own nervous psyche. But I will be scoreboard watching. You can be sure of that.
And, when it comes time to break things, I’ll fit right in. No one will probably even notice.
Okay, so you guys rooting for the Red Sox or the Rays?
Fort Wayne, IN
Sometimes I wonder if people even read this blog. I know that Jeff and I take a look from time and there are occasional comments but do people really read it? In general, I believe there’s a through-line to what we write and a lot of that relates to being fans of Midwestern teams, teams that are, by definition, underdogs. Sure, the Tigers and Cardinals may have a great tradition but they are not from either of the two coasts and that leads to certain amount of neglect.
We’ve had to root for our teams when they were at their worst. I’ve been a Tigers’ fan since I can remember knowing about baseball and that meant I saw successful seasons followed by seasons of utter and total failure. That didn’t change anything, though. I was still fan. Whether it’s a 119 loss campaign or the heartbreak of losing in the World Series or a playoff, Tigers fans remain a grounded lot. Part of that is related to Detroit itself and part of it is the realization that baseball has its ups and downs and you have to roll with both extremes.
I used to think that Boston fans felt the same way. They suffered through the years without a championship despite coming agonizingly close on multiple occasions. And when they finally broke through against the Yankees and went on to trounce the Cardinals, I think quite a few people were happy for them. Even I have to admit that it felt good to see them beat the Yankees and end such a long drought.
But then something happened. The Red Sox and their fans went from being a Mitch Albom wet dream to Yankees-lite. By the time they won again in 2007, both the team and the fans had gone from long-suffering to insufferable. There’s nothing wrong with confidence but what Boston had evolved from confidence into arrogance. All the talk of Theo Epstein, Big Papi and Manny being Manny began to inspire a gag reflex.
Manny is no longer in Boston or baseball. Pedro Martinez has disappeared, too. Sure, there are still gutsy, admirable players like Pedroia and Ellsbury. But I no longer have any warm feelings toward the Red Sox. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just the Yankees with a Boston accent. That’s why I’m cheering for the Rays.
**Have a topic you want to see us Filibuster? Interested in Mr. Lung’s twist on the “O” face, the “U” face? Send us your Filibuster questions by emailing email@example.com or by commenting below.
Earlier this week, when asked about his role as set-up man to John Axford on a playoff-bound Brewers club, the manic and pock-marked hot head had this to say:
“There’s been plenty of save opportunities, and I’ve pitched once in the ninth inning and it wasn’t a save. I’m not happy. That’s the bottom line for me.”
Whaa whaa whaa. Cry me a river, you big, overpaid, underachieving man-baby.
You see, dear readers, K-Rod is what we nowadays call a “stat-whore” — an obvious “save” chaser, a child more concerned about his “legacy” than the overall well-being of his team. And apparently, winning means nothing to him. Being successful means nothing to him. If it did, he’d keep his mouth shut. Instead, he’s yapping about how rough he has it while presumably yearning for a return to that moribund, going-nowhere New York Mets club.
Are we, US Americans, responsible for this man-childish behavior? Probably. To be fair, we are the ones who tune in to train wrecks like The Jersey Shore. We are the ones who judge people based on appearances. We are the ones who look the other way while skinny little Brady Anderson racks up 50 bombs.
Will it ever end? Probably not. But being aware is being alive, which is good news for you and me.
And K-Rod? Well, he is just another one of the walking dead.
PS. Aside from being a big baby, K-Rod is also the poster child against extreme, high definition close-ups. I mean, seriously, there is no reason for a grown man to have that much acne. Unless…