For the second straight year my backup team won the World Series. (Get ready Seattle! You're up to bat next year!) Unlike last year (although, come to think of it I should have found a way to the South Side) it happened in my own backyard so at 10:30 PM I jumped into a car with a couple of people to ride downtown to riot.
It was quite a scene and I didn't think that St. Louisians had it in them. For a while, downtown St. Louis actually resembled a real downtown with people, cars, and everything. Seemingly sane white Midwesterners ran around, high-fived (more on that later), honked, and obstructed traffic. But unlike the scene that would have unfolded in Detroit there were no overturned cars or fire. Just good old fashioned waving and beer drinking. Of course, I had to shut my eyes and pretend that in fantasy Kenny land the arch was actually that really ugly pink building in Portland and I was celebrating a Portland Trailblazer victory over some team. Some announcer would say, "It's been five years since a Blazer has been arrested! Rip City!!" But then Tony LaRussa's voice interrupted me on the radio and I thought: "Tony LaRussa doesn't coach the Blazers!" Sigh.
In my infinite wisdom, I forgot that I had a machine that flashes and captures pictures for posting on silly web logs. Instead, I'll just have to describe the pictures I would have taken along with the commentary that would have gone alone with such pictures.
[Insert picture here showing crazy black dude high-fiving everyone and selling copies of the St. Louis Dispatch for $5 each.] The entrepreneur spirit lives in St. Louis despite being 300 miles away from the Kaufman Foundation. This guy high-fived and then five-sold. St. Louis Post dispatch copies that is.
[Insert picture of 2 cheerleaderish high school girls running up and down through traffic high-fiving everyone.] As you can see, the high-fiving just wouldn't stop. Sadly, I'm getting old. Instead of joining in on the high-fiving experience, all I could think of was: they're going to get run over by someone. At least Ginny would be proud of me. After all, who knows where their hands have been? (Nicole points out that Ginny would have been prepared with moist toilettes that I could have handed out to anyone before I high-fived them.)
[Insert picture showing frat boys and sorority girls sitting precariously on top of an SUV without handlebars.] Again, I'm getting old. I should have rolled down my window and saluted them for their assiduous celebration efforts. Instead, I kept thinking: "One of them is going to fall off that SUV, crack his skull, and bleed to death. They'll try to get an ambulance but this traffic is so bad that it will never get here and so they'll have to call in a chopper. The chopper will come and fly him off to the Wash-U hospital but it'll be too late. Think of the wasted tax dollars that we'll have to spend on that prick."
[Insert picture of people pouring into Busch Stadium as they open the gates for all.] It was pretty cool. Around 11:30 they opened up all of the Stadium gates and let people onto the field. Then the players paraded around throwing batting gloves, hats, and other miscellaneous things into the crowd. Later, while watching the event on SportCenter, Dusty Baker said, "The Tigers only played so-so..." and wouldn't you know? The second he said so-so they zoomed in on So Taguchi throwing out batting gloves.
I am kicking myself for not bringing my camera. I guess they'll just have to win again next year. In apology to my readers, I bring you this picture of Albert Pujols's ass that I shot back in May. People like Nicole will want to click for the high resolution version.
I know I don't usually pray to you. Sometimes I doubt you even exist, but I would most appreciate it if you would make Lou Piniella go insane at least once next year in Wrigley Field. Please see video example below. By the way, my friend has an apple stuck in her throat. If you could please ameliorate this problem, she would be most grateful.
If this is true it could make for a very exciting season in Wrigleyville The thought of Lou Pinella ripping up some ivy to roll around in and throwing around the bases will keep me warm through the winter months.
To prepare me for the depression that will come when the Oakland A's inevitably lose this series, Barry Zito, and all hopes for competing ever again I'm reading Education for Extinction about the forced boarding school experience of American Indians during the late 19th century. Afterwards, I'm planning on dipping random things (like cream puffs) into a giant bowl of ganache while watching 5 straight episodes of Ally McBeal.
Unfortunately, things are not going according to plan as the A's are leading and I just learned that FOX has fired Steve Lyons, events that make me not sad. While I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Oakland snatches defeat from the jaws of victory, I don't want to be denied my night of salty, salty tears. Thankfully, I think I'm on the part where all of the savage culture is brutally ripped from the first generation of American Indian youths. As Lewis would say, it's all over but the crying!
My friend Noah Potter, who is getting married next month, has started a web log where he talks about piano playing and analyzes World of Warcraft. Sounds good to me. Check it out here.
