Many, Many Pitchers Duel in WS G1

ST. LOUIS--As promised, Game 1 of this 2011 World Series ended up a chess match between the managers: stony LaRussa of Saint Lou and fist-pumping Washington of the Republic of Texas.  You wouldn't have guessed it from the beginning, though, as each team's starter threw solid scoreless innings to break in this Championship; three from the Lawmen's Wilson and four from Carpenter of the Redbirds.  Even more so, it was tied up at 2 runs apiece after Five, with both starters still kicking the mud behind the pitcher's plate.

All four of those runs were pretty runs to boot, with St. Louis striking first in their Fourth.  Slugger Pujols (though without a hit on the night) hopped aboard getting ankle-boned by a Wilson fastball.  Then a brace of knife-edge doubles sliced right along the first base line, one from Holliday to move Albert over to third, the second from the salt-and-pepper bearded Berkman to score them both.  The Redbirds pushed to tack on some more, but left Lance and eventually Punto stranded on the bags.

Then in Texas's Own Fifth, one tall dark and handsome home run sent deep into the seats off the stick of Catcher Napoli brought in Two Texans, himself and Cruz, who had reached on a standard-issue single two batters before.

On to the Cardinals' Sixth, alltiedup, and Third Baseman Freese wallops a double deep into the CF gap.  Catcher Molina is up next and he strikes out, but not before Freese moves over to third on Wilson's only wild pitch of the night.  Next up is Second Baseman Punto, who draws himself a walk, and then the chess strategy begins in earnest.  With runners at the corners, Washington offers up the impressive and right-handed Ogando Defense.  LaRussa counters with the Allen Craig Gambit, pinching for his pitcher's number 9 slot.

Here is the crux of the game, and like so many cruxes of good baseball or good chess, recognized as it occurs, but only seen for its true brilliance after it's reverberations resound through the rest of the game.  Here is the flame-throwing Dominican against the sophomore Craig, both just now tapped on the shoulder.  Here is Ogando, throwing hot and hard past Craig, until the erstwhile batter finally slices off just enough of a fastball to curl the ball like a wood shaving onto the very edge of right field.  Here is the outfielder Cruz, charging, leaping like a hurdler, his glove extended.  Here is the ball finding the lawn just in front of him, here Freese around to score, Cardinals ahead 3-2.

Now the two managers make steeples out of their fingertips and eye the board beadily.  The Ogando Defense, though broken, holds.  LaRussa plays a Salas Feint; Salas allows a hit by Cruz and walks Napoli.  LaRussa switches to a Rzepczynski Attack and shuts down the Rangers with two impressive strikeouts, despite Washington's attempt to make a Gentry Switch for Left Fielder Murphy.  Washington, from his list of pitchers, plays a strong Gonzalez Variation, then finishes out the Feldman Line.  LaRussa counters with the Dotel-Rhodes Combination, and grinds out the Series-opening win with a trademark Motte Endgame, and the advantage of Allen Craig's sixth inning pinch-hit RBI single remains the difference.

In this the first game between our two heavy-hitting pennant recipients, the combined eight relief pitchers worked a total of 6-1/3 innings, struck out four, and permitted just three hits and no runs.  Cardinals win 3-2, and lead the Series 1-0.

Stand Up When You Sing

This is intended for all my friends, goodhearted as they may be, who just don't care for baseball. So I would ask all of them to please, take a moment to stop punching your own mother, extinguish your American flags, and put down your copies of the Little Red Book, before you read on. Frankly, I find myself trying to convince these friends to like baseball, which is like trying to convince someone to like steak, or convincing the pope that Martin Luther had a few good ideas.

Of course when I undertake to convince my Maoist friends of baseball's charms, I end up struggling to define what exactly it is that I love about baseball so much, and why it is that I love it. And of course, the more I try to put together a legal brief in support of the game, the more I realize that it's like trying to prove the existence of a sunset. But there are reasons I love baseball, reasons hard to spell out into black and white, but I'll give it a go:

Baseball is like taking a walk through your old neighborhood: sometimes, if you're lucky, there will be something--a window pane, the light through the trees, the smell of mowed lawns and hot asphalt, something--that will remind you of when you were a kid. Sometimes all you'll see is how much everything's changed.  


Baseball is like playing a good game of chess with your dad. You sit through everything, all the pawn moves, watching him spinning his wedding ring while he thinks, listening to the tock-tock of the old clock, slowly advancing your pieces. All for that one move when his eyes flick up to yours and he smiles, genuinely, and says, "Shit, I didn't see that." And you offer to let him take his last move back and he doesn't. Then he still beats you.

Baseball is me, six years old, sitting on the living room floor; even at that age I understand that Fenway Park is the bright burning heart of a neighborhood, the hearth for an entire city. Baseball is a six-year-old seeing but not fully understanding the contrast between Bill Buckner's downcast shame and the Mets celebrating in a writhing mass on the field.

Baseball is like watching a rocket launch. You can wait all day for that but, boy, you better not miss it.

Sometimes baseball is like going to a casino: the lights are bright, everyone is sweaty, and all they're after is your money. But sometimes, baseball is like going to church, the same church you went to your whole life and your parents too. Maybe you don't quite understand everything that is going on in front of you; maybe you can't, maybe you never will and should stop trying. But if you pay attention and believe for just a little while, it can send your heart soaring. Plus you should stand up when you sing.