ST. LOUIS — Oh, Joaquin, you knucklehead. You wild man, you. Come on over here and give us a bop on the head, you nut.
What a kidder. One day you hate us. Next day you love us. All season long, the media are “a bunch of bleep.” Now, in the World Series, you say, “I like you guys. You got to write. That’s your job. That’s why I’m here talking to you.”
Ah, J.A., you card. You Card. You Cardinal man.
KANSAS CITY — Big men don’t cry. That much you learn with your baseball milk. So I guess the idea of a 6-foot-3 home run hitter bawling is pretty much out of the question. Just the same, I keep visualizing Steve Balboni, all 225 pounds of him, returning to his hotel room after the game, stripping down to his undershirt, cuddling up with a bag of Doritos, and weeping.
It is not because he is sensitive, which he is. It is not because he speaks with all the volume of a monk, which he does. It is not because, without his cap, he looks like the “before” picture for a hair-weave ad.
IOWA CITY — The ball was snapped, the holder slammed it to earth, point-first, and the kicker’s foot came through with a thud. The ball rose up high and through the uprights, and the biggest college football game of the year was decided with :00 showing on the clock.
It was an Iowa foot.
The Hawkeyes won.
And that was the proper ending to this game, as hard as it is to swallow for Michigan fans.
The Wolverines were No. 2 and trying harder. But the Wolverines are still No. 1.
They deserve it.
ST. LOUIS — They would not leave.
“OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE!”
Not one. Not a soul dared move. The game was over, but all 53,708 were on their feet, screaming for him to come back out, and if they had to stand there until the start of next season, damn it, they would.
“OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE! OZ-ZIE!”
ST. LOUIS — At first, the tarp wasn’t talking.
“Get away from me,” it mumbled. “I don’t need no cheesehead reporters around me now.”
Hours earlier, the tarp had committed the most heinous crime of this NL playoff. During batting practice, it had rolled up the leg of an unsuspecting Vince Coleman, the Cardinals’ prize rookie, trapping him under the weight of its 1,200 pounds until teammates could pull him free.
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