Go Crazy Folks, Go Crazy- Part II

I'm still a little hoarse and a little dazed by the whirlwind of a baseball game I witnessed last night. When that Lance Berkman 3-run homerun, in the seventh inning, kicked a swirl of dust up off the top of the left field fence my heart sank slowly into a thick mire of disappointment. Another close game, another pitching duel, and surely another heartbreaking loss once the 'best closer in the game' stepped up to the mound at some point in the next two innings. Carpenter had pitched a gem, even the pitch that was taken deep was low and outside- a Carpenter staple. It was 4-2, a mere 2 run lead, but it might as well been 10-2; the obstacles were legion. We were 3 for 32 with men in scoring position in the series; Lidge was the best closer in the game; the Astros' were 136-1 since June 15, 2004 when leading after nine; and the bottom of the batting order was due up. All of these realities were swimming in my head; I was a man at the end of his desperate rope.

My thoughts turned to Busch Stadium. I was lost in emotions, somewhere between nostalgic melancholy and primal rage. I dearly wanted the Cardinals to take game 5 if only to give Busch one more moment in the spotlight; to see the birds on the bat at least one more time in the old ballpark. That hope seemed lost as the 8th inning went by without incident.

Even the announcers began to wax poetic about our old girl and her 40 year history. Various moments and players were recalled with adoration while FOX ran pictures of old Busch ominously shadowed by the brick and mortar columns of the new stadium. The end of an era was palpable as the unnerving roar of the Minute Maid Park crowd welcomed the 9th inning.

First came Hector Luna, a pushover for Lidge's knee buckling slider. Next was John Mabry who had driven in a run off of Lidge in vain the previous night. Two hits in consecutive plate appearances off of Lidge proved to be impossible as Mabry went down on more sliders. Then came Eckstien, who announcers call pesky and the toughest little player in baseball, and while that may be his heart is twice as big as anyone in the game today. However, tonight even Eckstien looked overmatched, Lidge would simply not be denied. Two straight 96 mph fastballs rocketed across the plate, then a slider went low for a ball to bring the count to 1 and 2.

It had been 44 years to the day (or something like that) since the Houston Colt .45s/Astros had come into being, and despite being on the precipice of the World Series several times before the organization had fell just short every time; karma it seemed was finally on their side...

But karma is a fickle mistress.

The Houston dugout matched the enthusiasm of the crowd. Players high-fived and carried on demonstratively before the last out, much as they had after winning a relatively meaningless game 4. The Cardinal dugout must have taken notice, appalled by the lack of respect for them as well as the game. Biggio, a player's player, seemed to be the lone cool head with his hat pulled low and leaning pensively against the dugout fence... hoping.

The Cardinals were down to their last strike. A second slider made its way toward the plate and "little" David Eckstien, and it was one too many. A wormburner grounder got under the glove of Ensberg and into left field. There was still hope after all with the hero of last year's NLCS game 6 and 7 coming to the plate, if anybody could step up in this moment, it was Hollywood. Jimmy hung tough and ran the count to 3 and 1, Lidge suddenly couldn't locate his fastball. Lidge wouldn't walk him would he? Even a homerun would only tie the game; surely another 96 mph fastball was on its way over the heart of the plate, right? When the pitch left Lidge's hand you knew it was going to be a ball as it ran in off the plate and low.

The roar of the crowd was gone, Lidge had let the tying run on with a walk, something he just didn't do. Enter Albert Pujols, the best hitter of the game versus the best closer in the game; the veritable definition of a quintessential October matchup. The once boisterous Houston crowd became hushed and nervous; the entire Cardinal nation collectively shifted to the edge of their couches, recliners, and barstools. Everybody in the free world knew Pujols would see sliders and only sliders, more than likely in the dirt. Lidge didn't disappoint as the first slider kicked up dust while the bat of Albert Pujols uncharacteristically swung wild through the pitch.

Intolerable anguish, sweaty palms, a good time.

Lidge came set, haphazardly checked the runners, and came to the plate with another slider... and the baseball world stood still.

The art of hitting the ball on the sweet spot of the bat is the poetry of baseball. When done properly the motion is fluent, effortless. When Brad Lidge's slider failed to break, the impact of Albert's bat on the ball freeze-framed the moment like some iconic tinseltown baseball flick. The ball was hit as hard as a baseball can be, the only thing keeping it in the park, a thick slab of bulletproof glass; though I would not have been surprised had it shattered along with the Astros' premature dreams of finishing off the Cardinals in dramatic fashion.

After permanently damaging my vocal chords, I squinted at the scoreboard graphic on TV to make sure my tired mind hadn't just manifested the homerun out of sheer desperation. Somewhere in the catacombs of the stadium, a mouse urinated on a soiled cotton rag in the back of a disheveled broom closet, which would have been heard throughout the gravely quiet ballpark had it not been for the eruption of cheers in the Cardinals' dugout.

The moment defined a man, a team, a city, and personified a stadium all at once. At the very brink of elimination the entire season was saved with one Pujols swing coupled with two great at-bats from Eckstein and Jimmy. From certain death, a team has lifted itself off the slaughterhouse floor and not only forced a trip back to St. Louis but has somehow found a way to turn the tables and the momentum of the series.

The comment was made by the play-by-play guy, when the Houston crowd was basking in the glory of a certain win, that the Minute Maid Park crowd was the loudest in baseball. Well, I have an idea that the Game 6 crowd at Busch Memorial Stadium will have something to say about that.

This galvanizing moment in Cardinal history is one for the ages, but there is still work left to be done. I am just so happy that we now have a chance to show the world why this team has won 217 games over the last 2 seasons. We play a hard nine, a statement that has become the rally cry of the Cardinals and what this team is all about. Now, I only hope that we will play a hard 18.

Quoted from ESPN.com: "Who knows what's going to unfold when we get home?" said Reggie Sanders. "Nobody knows. All we know is this: Now we have a chance."

Amen, and as always, GO CARDS!!!