"Very superstitious, wash your face and hands. Rid me of the problem, do all that you can."--Stevie Wonder
Stevie Wonder, in this lyric, seems to be opposed to superstitious behavior--he believes that superstition "ain't the way" and it's just silly. I, on the other hand, have a different life approach. It's probably a vision thing.
But anyway, enough with taking cheap shots at Stevie Wonder--he's a musical genius who has more talent in even his benign eyes than I do in my entire body. The point is, the St. Louis Cardinals made the motherfucking playoffs. For me, the last week has been more exciting than the 2006 World Series--for whatever reason it seemed anti-climactic, particularly at the end of the series when the series was obviously going to be won by the Cardinals/I had the ACT the next morning. But anyway, somehow that happened and in spite of excruciatingly long odds, the Cardinals surpassed the Braves as NL Wild Card. I can't figure out how it happened, but I do know what factors have changed and, whether by correlation or causation, were followed by a tremendous surge by El Birdos.
Basically, I treat these superstitions as kind of like generally nonreligious people who still classify themselves as believers because they figure if there's a 0.00001% chance of a God, they'd rather be safe than sorry. So in this case, I recognize these superstitionsprobably aren't the reason the Cardinals are doing well, but I'm not going to take that risk by abandoning them.
Step One: Be a Cynical Bastard About the Cardinals
Basically, on a good day, I am to being a Cardinals fan what Ron Paul is to being a Republican--nominally speaking I am one, and it could be argued that my approach is more in line with what my dogma is all about than the mainstream alternative, but by and large my style just scares the other people of the group. I am a Cardinal fan who holds specific grudges against players, managers, staff, and ownership. I consider Jim Edmonds to be deplorably arrogant, Scott Rolen to be an all-time under-appreciated Cardinal, the current closer situation to be a symbol of underlying racism within the Cardinals fanbase, Matt Holliday to be a pampered and overpraised hick, and the movement to retire Willie McGee's number a dark cloud over the collective intelligence of a generally informed fanbase. I dislike Tony LaRussa though consider him to be less of a problem than Bill DeWitt, who I consider to be one of the worst owners in professional sports.
Yes, I consider myself a Cardinals fan.
And when the Cardinals were nearly ten back early in September, nobody was more insistent that the season was over than I was. Yes, Albert Pujols was getting back into his MVP-caliber rhythm and yes, the Braves were losing Jair Jurrjens and Tommy Hanson. But ten games? I realistically figured the Cardinals could close the gap a little bit, but make the playoffs? Please. So I started telling overzealous fans I know that they needed to give up or they'd be in for a major league disappointment.
Now, I got a little bit weak when the deficit got to two games or so. Like, on Wednesday, when the race was tied and we had Carp going to the mound against the Lastros, it was hard not to feel good about it. But for the sake of St. Louis, I maintained my cynicism. I didn't just tell people the season was over--I tried my best to truly, truly believe that making the playoffs would be impossible.
Step Two: Playoff Beard
The last day that I fully shaved my face was September 2nd. On that day, I was to go to a Cardinals game against the Reds in which Chris Carpenter was facing Johnny Cueto. And they got killed. For no real rhyme or reason I grew tired of constantly shaving and decided to try going back to facial hair, as I have done several times presumably because of a subliminal desire for attention. And the Cardinals got better. Now, this seems like a ridiculous correlation, but playoff beards have existed FOR YEARS. Largely in hockey, but occasionally in sports that non-racist Americans care about, such as baseball. While it's not a true playoff beard--I do shave my lower neck to avoid irritation, there is a certain Wolfman effect going on. The beard may be here to stay--it will certainly last at least as long as the Cardinals in the playoffs.
Step Three: Stick to My Lucky CD
On Sunday, before the baseball games started, the Cardinals were two games back in the Wild Card race. By Wednesday, they were one game up. What changed for me in that brief period? I put a CD in my car that I really can't recall ever playing in the car before--Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers's Greatest Hits. And, well, things turned good. I guess there's some logic to this--I've always considered Tom Petty to be a good time kind of artist--he's kind of like Springsteen but his music doesn't generally make me want to drown myself in Hudson Bay. It's good time in the visceral sort of way, not Poison's contrived "Nothin But a Good Time" kind of crap.
So, barring a total Breakdown by the Cardinals as they're Running Down a Dream, I'll be Waiting for Astros Refugee Lance Berkman to contribute to the Phillies Free Fallin' out into nothing. Hopefully they'll Stop Draggin My Heart Around as Pujols's moon shots will be Learning To Fly Into the Great Wide Open. Despite my pessimism, I Won't Back Down from watching the Cardinals, but I Need To Know score updates every once in a while. Hopefully ESPN text alerts Don't Do Me Like That. But Cardinals fans, don't forget: You Got Lucky that strong season endings Don't Come Around Here No More for the Braves. Because Even The Losers should be able to entertain all the American Girls pulling for them--they just need to Listen To Her Heart. Sidenote: There's no logical way to insert "Here Comes My Girl" or "Mary Jane's Last Dance" into this massacre of a paragraph.
But don't let this come off as optimism. Because we're completely and totally fucked and don't you ever think I believe otherwise.
Stevie Wonder, in this lyric, seems to be opposed to superstitious behavior--he believes that superstition "ain't the way" and it's just silly. I, on the other hand, have a different life approach. It's probably a vision thing.
But anyway, enough with taking cheap shots at Stevie Wonder--he's a musical genius who has more talent in even his benign eyes than I do in my entire body. The point is, the St. Louis Cardinals made the motherfucking playoffs. For me, the last week has been more exciting than the 2006 World Series--for whatever reason it seemed anti-climactic, particularly at the end of the series when the series was obviously going to be won by the Cardinals/I had the ACT the next morning. But anyway, somehow that happened and in spite of excruciatingly long odds, the Cardinals surpassed the Braves as NL Wild Card. I can't figure out how it happened, but I do know what factors have changed and, whether by correlation or causation, were followed by a tremendous surge by El Birdos.
Basically, I treat these superstitions as kind of like generally nonreligious people who still classify themselves as believers because they figure if there's a 0.00001% chance of a God, they'd rather be safe than sorry. So in this case, I recognize these superstitionsprobably aren't the reason the Cardinals are doing well, but I'm not going to take that risk by abandoning them.
Step One: Be a Cynical Bastard About the Cardinals
Basically, on a good day, I am to being a Cardinals fan what Ron Paul is to being a Republican--nominally speaking I am one, and it could be argued that my approach is more in line with what my dogma is all about than the mainstream alternative, but by and large my style just scares the other people of the group. I am a Cardinal fan who holds specific grudges against players, managers, staff, and ownership. I consider Jim Edmonds to be deplorably arrogant, Scott Rolen to be an all-time under-appreciated Cardinal, the current closer situation to be a symbol of underlying racism within the Cardinals fanbase, Matt Holliday to be a pampered and overpraised hick, and the movement to retire Willie McGee's number a dark cloud over the collective intelligence of a generally informed fanbase. I dislike Tony LaRussa though consider him to be less of a problem than Bill DeWitt, who I consider to be one of the worst owners in professional sports.
Yes, I consider myself a Cardinals fan.
And when the Cardinals were nearly ten back early in September, nobody was more insistent that the season was over than I was. Yes, Albert Pujols was getting back into his MVP-caliber rhythm and yes, the Braves were losing Jair Jurrjens and Tommy Hanson. But ten games? I realistically figured the Cardinals could close the gap a little bit, but make the playoffs? Please. So I started telling overzealous fans I know that they needed to give up or they'd be in for a major league disappointment.
Now, I got a little bit weak when the deficit got to two games or so. Like, on Wednesday, when the race was tied and we had Carp going to the mound against the Lastros, it was hard not to feel good about it. But for the sake of St. Louis, I maintained my cynicism. I didn't just tell people the season was over--I tried my best to truly, truly believe that making the playoffs would be impossible.
Step Two: Playoff Beard
The last day that I fully shaved my face was September 2nd. On that day, I was to go to a Cardinals game against the Reds in which Chris Carpenter was facing Johnny Cueto. And they got killed. For no real rhyme or reason I grew tired of constantly shaving and decided to try going back to facial hair, as I have done several times presumably because of a subliminal desire for attention. And the Cardinals got better. Now, this seems like a ridiculous correlation, but playoff beards have existed FOR YEARS. Largely in hockey, but occasionally in sports that non-racist Americans care about, such as baseball. While it's not a true playoff beard--I do shave my lower neck to avoid irritation, there is a certain Wolfman effect going on. The beard may be here to stay--it will certainly last at least as long as the Cardinals in the playoffs.
Step Three: Stick to My Lucky CD
On Sunday, before the baseball games started, the Cardinals were two games back in the Wild Card race. By Wednesday, they were one game up. What changed for me in that brief period? I put a CD in my car that I really can't recall ever playing in the car before--Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers's Greatest Hits. And, well, things turned good. I guess there's some logic to this--I've always considered Tom Petty to be a good time kind of artist--he's kind of like Springsteen but his music doesn't generally make me want to drown myself in Hudson Bay. It's good time in the visceral sort of way, not Poison's contrived "Nothin But a Good Time" kind of crap.
So, barring a total Breakdown by the Cardinals as they're Running Down a Dream, I'll be Waiting for Astros Refugee Lance Berkman to contribute to the Phillies Free Fallin' out into nothing. Hopefully they'll Stop Draggin My Heart Around as Pujols's moon shots will be Learning To Fly Into the Great Wide Open. Despite my pessimism, I Won't Back Down from watching the Cardinals, but I Need To Know score updates every once in a while. Hopefully ESPN text alerts Don't Do Me Like That. But Cardinals fans, don't forget: You Got Lucky that strong season endings Don't Come Around Here No More for the Braves. Because Even The Losers should be able to entertain all the American Girls pulling for them--they just need to Listen To Her Heart. Sidenote: There's no logical way to insert "Here Comes My Girl" or "Mary Jane's Last Dance" into this massacre of a paragraph.
But don't let this come off as optimism. Because we're completely and totally fucked and don't you ever think I believe otherwise.
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