Deep in the broken heart of Texas

The stars aligned themselves around the St. Louis Cardinals this year.

It is the classic fan’s excuse, and I certainly classify as a Rangers fan.  I was going to the Ballpark in Arlington when Johnny Oates was still the manager, when Pudge was still donning red and blue, and when I still had to use a car seat.

I am hardly the right guy to write an objective, journalistic piece about the World Series, right?  Fasten your seatbelts.

I am glad the St. Louis Cardinals won.  Really.  I promise.  I put my face in my hands for a good 15 minutes after Game Seven finally concluded, but there are several reasons for me to support this St. Louis victory now that the disappointment of a Ranger loss has cooled.

1)     Besides being a Texas fan, I am also a baseball fan in general.

2)     The Cardinals’ win was pure magic.

3)     St. Louis had the picture-perfect playoff run.  They were ten and a half games out of the wild card on August 25th, upset the Phillies in the divisional series, and upset the Brewers in the National League Championship.  What hope for protection against the baseball gods did the Rangers have?

4)     I attended Game Three in Arlington when Albert Pujols hit his three home runs, becoming only the third player in World Series history to do that in a single game.  His company?  Reggie Jackson and Babe Ruth.  Had the Rangers won, that accomplishment would have been a mere afterthought.

5)     I watched Game Six at 810 Zone with my family.  The Rangers were one strike away – twice, both in the ninth and the tenth – and they let it slip away twice, off the hands of David Freese and Lance Berkman.

6)     This was, in my humble opinion, the best Game Six in baseball history.  Better than the Twins’ victory in 1991 to force a Game Seven, off a Kirby Puckett walk-off home run in the bottom of the 11th.  Better than the cruel twist of fate against the Red Sox in 1986 when first baseman Bill Buckner allowed a dribbler to pass through his legs, allowing the winning run for the Mets to score.  Better than all of them.

Most of all, this is a World Series I will relate to my grandkids.  I was there when the great Albert Pujols swatted three home runs and went five for six at the plate.  I saw it happen.  I stood by as my team received, as the Dallas Morning News’ Tim Cowlishaw put it, the dishonor of being “the MLB’s Buffalo Bills”.

Regardless of my fan affiliation, this was a series that I would not trade for anything.  My deep love for those Texas Rangers burns as powerfully as it did when they were among the worst teams in baseball.

Still, I cannot seem to turn my eyes away from the baseball magic that unfolded before my eyes.  St. Louis should not have made the playoffs.  But they did.  Under no circumstances was St. Louis supposed to win that Game Six.  But they did.  Freese should not have hit that game-tying double.  But he did.  Berkman should not have hit that booming triple.  But he did.  I should not be enjoying the Cardinals’ victory.  But I am.

I suppose it is all part of the magic.

Tags baseball world series