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THE PAST, THE FUTURE, AND NOW
So here we are again, in a stadium that has held so many of our cheers, hopes and dreams, to bear witness to another quest for a world championship.
We have spent much of the past season celebrating the blessed tradition that is Busch Stadium and the St. Louis Cardinals.
We have chanted for Louuuuuuu and Oz-ZIE; have wondered if Bob Gibson will ever fully understand what he means to us; and have pardoned ourselves as we stood to applaud Stan the Man, the greatest Cardinal of them all.
We have raised a toast to the teams and the players that have provided our cherished memories, and to the stadium that soon will darken its lights for good.
But not yet.
There, in the first-base dugout, in those crisp white uniforms with the birds on the bat, the 2005 Cardinals prepare to take the field for today's first playoff game.
Did they hear?
Do they know?
Do they understand?
All those Cardinals we celebrated this season had a message for this year's team.
Whitey could have told them how much we care and how long we remember, how obscure players like Tommy Lawless and Glenn Brummer will never have to pay for a drink in St. Louis as long as they live.
Mike Shannon, Jack Clark and Willie McGee could have explained how, when you're a Cardinal, you're a Cardinal forever. (Even you, Keith Hernandez.)
Joe Buck and little Kannon Kile could have shared what they know -- that Cardinal Nation is really Cardinal Family, which explains why so many fans cried over the loss of men they had never met.
But that wasn't the most important message all those players, managers and family members represented Sunday afternoon, as they gathered together for the last time on the same field.
Lean closer, you members of the 2005 Cardinals, and hear what they were telling you:
The past no longer matters.
What matters is today.
Not them. Not then.
They had their chance, their games, their moment.
This is your time.
Your place.
Your chance.
This is what matters today:
The best player.
The best pitcher.
The best manager.
The best bench.
The best team.
The best fans.
All of us have the opportunity to make this game, and this post-season, and this climb up the championship mountain, the best time of our lives.
Not 1964, or 1967, or 1982.
Now.
And then the 2005 St. Louis Cardinals can take their rightful place in our hearts and in our memories, as warm and bright as the glow from an old stadium's lights.
But not yet.
Here they come, storming out of the dugout.....
Now it begins.
Prepare to go crazy, folks, one more grand and glorious time.
So here we are again, in a stadium that has held so many of our cheers, hopes and dreams, to bear witness to another quest for a world championship.
We have spent much of the past season celebrating the blessed tradition that is Busch Stadium and the St. Louis Cardinals.
We have chanted for Louuuuuuu and Oz-ZIE; have wondered if Bob Gibson will ever fully understand what he means to us; and have pardoned ourselves as we stood to applaud Stan the Man, the greatest Cardinal of them all.
We have raised a toast to the teams and the players that have provided our cherished memories, and to the stadium that soon will darken its lights for good.
But not yet.
There, in the first-base dugout, in those crisp white uniforms with the birds on the bat, the 2005 Cardinals prepare to take the field for today's first playoff game.
Did they hear?
Do they know?
Do they understand?
All those Cardinals we celebrated this season had a message for this year's team.
Whitey could have told them how much we care and how long we remember, how obscure players like Tommy Lawless and Glenn Brummer will never have to pay for a drink in St. Louis as long as they live.
Mike Shannon, Jack Clark and Willie McGee could have explained how, when you're a Cardinal, you're a Cardinal forever. (Even you, Keith Hernandez.)
Joe Buck and little Kannon Kile could have shared what they know -- that Cardinal Nation is really Cardinal Family, which explains why so many fans cried over the loss of men they had never met.
But that wasn't the most important message all those players, managers and family members represented Sunday afternoon, as they gathered together for the last time on the same field.
Lean closer, you members of the 2005 Cardinals, and hear what they were telling you:
The past no longer matters.
What matters is today.
Not them. Not then.
They had their chance, their games, their moment.
This is your time.
Your place.
Your chance.
This is what matters today:
The best player.
The best pitcher.
The best manager.
The best bench.
The best team.
The best fans.
All of us have the opportunity to make this game, and this post-season, and this climb up the championship mountain, the best time of our lives.
Not 1964, or 1967, or 1982.
Now.
And then the 2005 St. Louis Cardinals can take their rightful place in our hearts and in our memories, as warm and bright as the glow from an old stadium's lights.
But not yet.
Here they come, storming out of the dugout.....
Now it begins.
Prepare to go crazy, folks, one more grand and glorious time.
![\"IPB](\"http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y141/ajkrakowski/cardinalpatch.jpg\")
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