Ok, here's another installment.  Today I am feeling really old... old as in 27.  Ugh.

OZZIE SMITH

Ozzie or the “Wizard of Oz”, and yes it bugs me that White Sox fans and the media are trying to give Ozzie Guillen that moniker. There is only one Wizard!  Anyway, as a kid Ozzie was everybody’s favorite player and I was no exception.  He was an AWESOME player to watch from his back flips to his amazing plays in the field.  Chants of “Ozzie, Ozzie” were heard almost every time he came up to bat.  Whenever we would play pick-up baseball we’d all fight over who got to be number 1 (his jersey number).  He WAS the Cardinals.  A guy of real class.

One of the more memorable occasions at Busch Stadium happened when I was in high school.  My brothers and I traveled with people from high school to watch our high school team play a game after the Cardinals’ day game.  Unfortunately, the Cards lost that day.  My brothers and I decided we’d try to get autographs since we were going to be there awhile for the high school game.  So, we went down to the Cards’ parking garage and stood outside with all the other fans. 

It was very disappointing to see almost every player drive right by us, hardly a wave from any of them.  This isn’t how baseball players are supposed to act!  Tom Pagnozzi, the catcher at the time, did come out and sign a few autographs (always liked him), but other than him we were just about to give up on getting our baseballs signed but the people around us kept saying… “Ozzie hasn’t come out yet, Ozzie always signs!”  So we waited… and sure enough a guy came out and spoke to the crowd.  Ozzie would sign about 20 autographs.  So the guy started picking people out of the crowd.  My youngest brother and I were picked to go inside the garage.  I was so thrilled!    

My heart was beating so fast as I entered the players garage and stood in line to see THE Ozzie Smith sitting in his black convertible, with the top down, his kids climbing all over the car and his wife, holding a toddler, standing to the side while he signed autographs for all these kids.  I took my brother, Brent’s, baseball in with me and he signed.  I was so nervous that all I could get out was a “Thank you” when he took it and a “Thank you” when he gave it back. 

Ozzie, was such a good guy, he even signed Dave’s nasty, sweaty, Cardinals’ hat—the only thing he had at the time to sign.  We still tease Dave about that.

THE STRIKE

For as long as I was old enough to read the newspaper I followed the Cardinals’ everyday, even when we moved away from St. Louis to central Illinois.  I would check the box scores, who hit what, who pitched, and where they were in the standings.  I knew every player’s name, what position they played, and if pressed could probably even tell you their batting average.  But again, this is pretty normal stuff when you are a Card’s fan.  One thing changed all that for me… In fact it just about completely ruined baseball for me.

Growing up with baseball as a kid you live for the summer.  You live for playoffs and think your team can do no wrong (so I was a little naïve!).  So when the players decided to on strike in 1994 I was taken aback.  How could they do this??  Don’t they make enough money?  And that goes for the owners too… When they decided to cancel the World Series… that was it!  How could these overpaid crybabies cancel the World Championship?? It had never happened before, not even during wars!  Shame on you baseball!

So that was it.  My illusion was shattered and I was heartbroken.  I stopped following baseball after that. I was so angry I didn’t even care how the Cardinals’ did or any other team for that matter.  After awhile I was would occasionally check the standings, but that was it.  I didn’t really care how they were doing.  They had broken and ruined it all for me.  I still loved the sport just didn’t care how the ‘professionals’ played it anymore.  No more trips to St. Louis for a game, no more watching them on TV… I just didn’t care that much. 

A LITTLE MORE INTEREST

It wasn’t until I was in college that I started to care about baseball again.  Along with a lot of people I stayed away from the game until an ‘amazing’ race ensued.  A lot had changed in St. Louis since the strike.  We had new players, a new manager, I couldn’t even tell you who played for the Cardinals anymore except for a few big names, mainly Mark McGwire.  In 1998 he and Sammy Sosa were in a race to beat Roger Marris’ (also a former Cardinal after the Yankees) single-season homerun record.  I didn’t really care until McGwire was only a few runs from reaching the 62 mark… And even then I only reluctantly watched because some of the girls in my dorm would turn on the games.  Watching those games reminded me how exciting baseball could be, and how fun St. Louis was.  Even though they had no chance to reach the playoffs it was amazing to see the packed stadium full of red-clad fans cheering wildly for one of “our” players. 

Little by little I started to come back to baseball, like many fans.  It never really held the same magic that it did before the strike, but it made me miss the game.  I started to check the standings a bit more, even started to know some of the players again but never to the level I did as a kid.

The next year the Cardinals came to Detroit to play an inter-league game.  I couldn’t pass this up and along with my brother and our cousin we decided to get tickets to see the Cards visit Tigers’ Stadium.  We donned our red shirts and hats, ready to greet the team in style.  We even got there early enough to snag a few autographs.  Once again I was able to get my brother an autograph, this time from Tony LaRussa.  We couldn’t quite squeeze in to reach Big Mac, but I was pretty close to him, man was he big!  We watched him pound balls off the upper deck of Tigers Stadium… very cool. 

Even though Tigers’ “fans” are duds and told us to sit down during the game we had a great time!  I had so much fun that I decided to go get us tickets to the game on Sunday.  That was an experience!  Here I am, barely familiar with Detroit driving downtown to buy tickets by myself.  I dropped my brother off to get tickets and was planning to drive around the block.  As I drove down Trumbel Avenue, I hit a huge pothole… my car died.  It wouldn’t restart, no lights, nothing.  Some friendly guys, on their way to the game, pushed my car out of the way.  I called my parents whom eventually came out with my Uncle and towed my car away.  On the bright side we did get to listen to the game.  We sat on the curb outside the stadium, wishing so bad that we could be inside.

The next day, Sunday, we made it to the game, borrowing a car of course.   It was so thrilling to just be sitting in a crowded stadium again, even if they were all just there to see Mark McGwire.  After the game we waited outside by the team bus to see if we could get some more autographs.  I wore a red shirt but apparently they didn’t care.  We watched most of the players just get on the bus (yet another disappointment).  There were a couple guys that came over and signed including one my favorite players as a kid, Ray Lankford.  He signed a piece of paper for me, unfortunately the only thing I had. 

The Cards didn’t do much that year but I was hooked once again!  I followed the team a bit more and yearned for a return to St. Louis.  (Too bad that the great run, that brought me back to baseball has more recently been tainted… but again, that’s another entry.)

More tomorrow! Should be the final installment...