The Shot Heard Round the State

I'd say around the world, but hey, the national media don't give a rat's ass about the Midwest.

I recall, for the moment, the beginning of my baseball fandom, sitting in the living room of my parent's apartment, playing MLB Showdown with Tom, and watching the Cardinals game over his shoulder. Someone, I forget who, hit a home run, and Tom scoffed, "spoiled fans, can't even cheer for a home run."

I cheered for this one.

And the first time I saw it was hours after it happened.

First I knew of the win, the front page of ESPN.com greeted me as I awoke with a picture of Pujols staring skyward, and I needed no other information, the Cards won, and that's what mattered. But being the intrepid fan that I am, I read on.

And the more I read, the more desperate I became to see video. The moment I saw the pitch leave his hand, I didn't need to know what happened beforehand, I knew it when it was thrown. I can barely make out pitches in-flight now, a carefully honed skill from watching countless Darryl Kile games. But Lidge's entire body posture gave it away. When he fell away from the pitch, before Pujols swung, he hung there, and though the shot was from behind him, you could tell the look on his face, gritted teeth, quick intake of air of someone who had just dropped a knife, and could do nothing but pray it didn't hit his foot point first.

And then the home run. As classy a player as Pujols is, in almost all aspects of his game, he had a Sosa/McGwire-esque stare at this one, as I imagine everyone in the ballpark did. I think he knew, as much as anyone knew, that this wasn't just a home run hit by a good player. This was a towering blast delivered by a legend, and that same blast made him a legend. And like every kid in St. Louis, like every person who wishes they could play in just one Major League Baseball game, he watched. In that moment, you could almost see in his eyes, "that ball is gone...and I did it."

The one knock I have on Three Nights in Baseball, which is otherwise a very good book, despite colleagues' hatred for La Russa, is that he is either protecting Pujols or sucking up to him. There is no mention of Pujols, there is only "The Great Pujols" through the entire book. It almost offended me, if it weren't both true, and about who is perhaps now my favorite player.

But, I digress. I dug deeper into that inning, and I have never wanted to be out of my job so badly in my life, with its sleeping schedule that took me away from this. I have watched, what was before this, arguably the three most defining plays in St. Louis sports during my lifetime (61, 62, and 1-Foot-Short), but this one I missed, and hearing the rest of the inning, and the stories involved, I have never wanted so bad to see it happen live.

First, Eckstein, with one strike away from going home, made the sudden shift from "it doesn't matter," from knowing that the best he could hope for was a single, probably a blooper at that, knowing Lidge, and that it probably wouldn't matter, to deciding that it had to start somewhere.

And from there, Edmonds, who is a free-swinger. Tom mentioned his decline with the bat, and I have to agree, though I will have to see him have another off-year this coming season to firmly believe that fact. But rather, I want to believe, in my biased fashion, that he heard from Eckstein, standing on first, exactly the statement that Eckstein made with his bat: "just get on base. Albert's waiting." I did not see this at-bat, aside from the last pitch, and that last pitch was bad. I don't know what Lidge was trying to throw in that instance, I can only assume it was a slider which didn't slide, given how many he threw otherwise in that inning. Instead of sliding back to the plate, it just stayed inside, and set up what followed.

And then there was Pujols. Pujols, until today, was still a young player, promising, but young. He was a very good player, but he was not The Great Pujols in my mind. While this may seem as a knock against him, it's not. In order to be "The Great" anything, there has to be one career defining moment. This is why people knock on "very good" players who never won a championship. They didn't have that moment. Marino never had that moment (though other things made him great). Pujols now has his moment, and in one swing of the bat, he went from the best of St. Louis to the best of the League, and when it's all said and done, I don't think his name will be out of place with all those he's compared to. Great players don't get that opportunity and waste it. They don't stare at a rattled closer, even the best closer in the game, and let him win.

There are other images, Andy Pettitte, mouthing "oh my god..." as the ball left the park. The fans dying into sudden silence. Pujols staring up at the shot, perhaps admiring his own work, perhaps seeing, from a different angle, Kirk Gibson. Lidge, ducking down on the mound, knowing as the ball left his hand that he had just given away the game. That you don't throw that pitch, with that little spin, in that location, to that player.

If the Cardinals go on to win this series, this will join all of those moments as the most pivotal at-bats in the history of baseball.

The Cardinals, however, still have two more games. They have Oswalt, whom I believe they will beat. Oswalt, like Pujols, is good but not "Great" yet. This could be his moment. 3 innings of shut-down ball, no walks, and fewer than two hits, and the Cards are in trouble. If Oswalt goes 7, he gains his moment, because putting life back into that team now is going to be near impossible. If the Cards can even nickel and dime him at the beginning of the game, scratch at him, it won't matter if he gives up runs early, because the emotional trauma of this game will wear on the rest of the team. If the Astros lock it down and get a lead, they steal momentum. The question is whether or not they can handle this blow and come back swinging.

And then there is Clemens, who needs no more moments. He's got enough. And if there is one man, like him or not, who can take this gut shot, look up, and ask for more, it's him.

Short of Clemens getting hit by a bus, there's nothing that will make me hope for the best, not yet. The Cardinals during my fandom have had a history of destroying his kind in the playoffs, when it matters. The other two elder statesmen of pitching excellence fell before them, and Clemens could be no different.

But Clemens won't fold if his gameplan isn't working, not like Maddux, he'll find something that works. And he won't fold if his fire isn't there, not like Johnson, he'll work around it. He's a fighter.

I hated him before for coming back out of retirement. I hate him more now that he stands between the most meaningful home run in Cardinals history, and what might just be another footnote.