It's Opening Day--WEEEEEE!!!

Opening Day means several things. First, it indicates that the bitter Chicago winter is FINALLY nearing its end and that I can officially stop wearing long underwear to work. Secondly, it means the Northsiders are breaking out their Soriano jerseys and gearing up for what I'm hoping will be another agonizing and tortuous season. Best of all, this year it's a reminder that the St. Louis Cardinals are the defending 2006 World Series Championship. After five months without baseball, it's a great excuse to re-live the experience and an even better excuse to start using this as the go-to response to EVERYTHING. "Oh, Zambrano had two-hitter? Yeah, nice World Series." "So, Jim Edmonds and Scott Rolen are on the DL again? Oh, well. At least we won the World Series!" "A nuclear bomb is set to go off and level every major Midwestern city? Hmm...that's too bad. But at least we've got that World Series Championship!"

However, as I sat down and watched the Mets attack us both offensively and defensively, I was struck with an eerie sense of calm. Obviously, I would like to have seen the Redbirds notch a win against the Mets on their first outing of the season, but for some reason, as the runs built up against us and double play after double play eliminated most of our scoring opportunities, I could hardly muster up the energy to utter an expletive. It wasn't that I didn't care about the win, it was just that the singular importance of the game was so minimal. Keep in mind, the last time the Cardinals played the Mets it was in a do or die situation. This win on Sunday night hardly counts as a moral victory for Willie Randolph & Company considering the relative stakes. I honestly felt kind of bad for them. They could sweep the series and it would still do nothing to eliminate the agony of losing game 7 in the 2006 NLCS. It just doesn't matter.

Now ask me again how I feel when we face them in game 7 of the 2007 NLCS.

I Bet Jack Sheppard Loves the Cards

So, the Cardinals don't deserve to be World Series Champs? Well, I disagree. (I realize this is completely obvious, but just hear me out here.) I also disagree that Lost is past its prime and would argue that those who think so are missing the point. Complaints in both cases are largely centered on uneven story lines or unlikeable subplots. However, if these kinds of things were based solely on logic and popularity, the Yankees would win the World Series every year and Law & Order would be the only show on television. Mass appeal and simplicity are not necessarily indicative of a great story. Sometimes you have to invest yourself in layers of complexity. Sometimes you need to be patient and believe that motions have been set in place so that each game and each show ultimately serves a more profound purpose. I mean, am I the only one that still thinks an underdog triumph is compelling? The NCAA tournament has been criticized for that very issue this year. Predictability, boredom and recycled headlines were the main event. So, why then does the success of an unexpected team create such a backlash? And why is the innovation and unpredictability initially responsible for Lost's popularity now responsible for its decline?

PEOPLE WANT ANSWERS, DAMMIT!! "Why can't we beat the Cubs, for crying out loud?" And "what was the point of the taillie subplot, anyway?" I plead with you kids to RELAX! It really isn't over until it's over. Bitch all you want at that point, but don't ruin the whole experience for the rest of us by whining about how disastrously things have gone off track. The pieces may actually surprise you and add up to something spectacular.

Despite the unwelcome twists and turns of the season, like Marquis' skyrocketing ERA, Pujols' back injury, the late season losing streaks and a weird tribal priest dying at the hands of an ethereal monster, the product is the sum of its parts. In getting worked up over the individual pieces, you're taking away from the satisfaction of the finale. Sometimes it's not about the individual stops on your journey, but the ending. And those endings are almost always sweetened and underscored by the pitfalls endured along the way. You just have to trust that Tony LaRussa, Dave Duncan, Walt Jocketty (JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof, Carlton Cuse!!) and the rest of the gang know what they're doing. And if not, that they get eaten by a rogue polar bear. Because even then, (as the 2007 Cardinals can attest!) greatness can happen in spite of itself.

So, Tony Likes to Kick a Few Back

Much has been said about Tony LaRussa and his whole "falling asleep at the wheel" incident. Well, here are some of my theories on how this all transpired.

1. He was exhausted after watching 19 consecutive hours of game film with Albert Pujols.
2. He realized that letting Jason Marquis go was a huge mistake and fell into a tragic shame spiral. (Just kidding!)
3. He just got done playing a drinking game that required him to drink every time Jason Isringhausen blew a save last year. (Which means he cheated, of course, because otherwise he would have been far more intoxicated then the 0.093 BAC would suggest.)
4. He was still celebrating that whole World Series Championship of ours.

It Comes From Where You Least Expect It

The strangest thing about watching the Cardinals play in the World Series this past fall was having to do so in such close proximity to so many Tigers fans. These people were EVERYWHERE. Chicagoans in my neighborhood were cheering loudly for whoever the Cardinals happened to be playing, much like two years ago when somehow overnight everyone on the Northside became a Red Sox fan. Regardless, there was an awful lot of navy blue and orange around these parts and not all of them were resentful Derrek Lee enthusiasts. No, this year was different from 2004 in that a reasonable percentage of these fans were actually from Michigan and legitimately followed Tigers baseball. Chicago being the biggest city in flyover country, it should surprise no one that it's a melting pot of small town kids from all over the Midwest. A lot of them happen to be from Michigan. Several of them even have the distinct privilege of being my friends.

Now, as you can imagine after watching the Cardinals' late season collapse, I wasn't really all that concerned with these friends at the beginning of the playoffs. I anticipated cheering for the Tigers right along with them if they made it to the World Series, assuming my redbirds would bring the colossal disappointment of the regular season into the playoffs. They seemed so disoriented about what they were supposed to be doing at that point, I half expected Jim Edmonds to eat his bat in the on deck circle and Jeff Weaver to pitch on all fours. By the time they face planted into the postseason I was convinced it was a lost cause. So it was only after we had finished dismantling the Padres and began chipping away at the Mets that I began to realize there was a possibility we'd face the Tigers in the championship series. I immediately knew I'd have to start bracing myself for a new breed of harassment coming from the most unlikely of places. I mean, until that point I was on their side! It was all very strange. Initially unsettling, but ultimately satisfying.

I was scared. It had been hammered home all year long (hell, for the past several years) that the American League is far superior to the National League. The Cardinals may have beat the Mets in game 7 of the NLCS, but it's not like we steam rolled over them. That effectively meant that a barely .500 team from the laughable central division scraped by with an unlikely win over what was considered to be the best team in a highly ridiculed league. We were headed to face a veteran manager leading a young team that had largely dominated their division all year. Not exactly a compelling or balanced match up, I'll admit.

I tried hard not to get too terribly excited about getting past the Padres and Mets, as I was burned badly the last time I believed blindly in the Cardinals championship capabilities. This time I was timidly optimistic and realistically cynical. I was happy for them to be there, but resigned to the fact that we probably couldn't pull it off. There was no way we could bully our way past the amped up team that surprised the Yankees in the division series and demolished the A's in the ALCS. So when the match-ups were set and we started the World Series in Detroit, I took the abuse from the Tiger fans in stride. They had a point, after all. We WOULD be lucky not to get swept. Maybe I SHOULD buy a broom. Perhaps the Cardinals DO take it in the Poo-holes. (Evidently this is a regional crowd pleaser.) It was unnerving to be hassled by yet another legion of fans in Chicago and honestly a little exhausting. I expect this from Cubs fans, but the Tigers? Where did they come from anyway? Even after winning the first game in Detroit and the first in St. Louis proved we weren't gong to lie down and ahem...take it in the Poo-holes, I didn't have a legitimate comeback. 1968 anyone? Plus, it was the Tigers! The feel good team of the year! After years and years of sucktitude they finally had a good, well managed team that deserved to succeed. But then something happened that no one could have predicted and I could hardly have hoped for. The Cardinals actually won. And the weirdest part was, despite my mind blowing elation over our underdog triumph, I kind of felt bad for those guys. Here's a team that stormed through the regular season (for the most part), blew through the playoffs and seemed posed to make up for years of inadequacy by winning the World Series. They got totally Red Soxed! Like us in 2004, the season long momentum couldn't do much for a team that appeared to be phoning it in down the stretch. So either I feel sorry for these fans because I'd been there not too long ago or I actually liked the Detroit team. It's probably a combination of the two. However, the point is I was ready to take pity on those friends of mine from Michigan. But surprisingly, they don't really want to talk about baseball anymore.