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A Peculiar Kind of Bandwagon

This World Series wasn’t exactly the most popular, going in.   People came up with a whole lot of reasons that they didn’t want to watch and not that many reasons they did.  I danced randomly in the street and wore my antlers around town but that didn’t really convince anyone.  (Hmm, I wonder why.)

Then came Game 6 and all its magic and craziness and bam, Game 7 got the highest ratings in almost 10 years.  And suddenly this was a series for the ages and baseball is an awesome game and really, why weren’t we all watching before?

*straightens fedora and says, I was watching before*

(Incidentally, why does this blog make me look like such a hipster all the time?)

No, really, what I’m trying to say is that I’m really glad that game brought baseball back to the forefront, in a way, and at the same time I hope the doubters will take this as a li’l sign, if you will.  The World Series is a great time and yep, history will be made.  Enjoy it, don’t let everything else get in the way and don’t just start watching when things get really famous.

Baseball is an awesome game.  But not just sometimes.  Always.  Game 6 didn’t prove anything, it only kind of righted people’s minds and for that I am glad.  Let’s all just watch the World Series next year and cut the cackle, as they say in Tintin.  (Can I also just take this moment, then, to promo the Tintin movie which is coming out in December?  I haven’t been this excited about a new film since Takers.  Or something.)

Diamond Girl

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This One Has a Short Title: Blissful Ignorance.

You know what’s a completely surreal feeling?  Sitting in a dark concert, having fasted from internet or radio for going-on-four hours so as not to know the World Series outcome, watching a performer who I am still somewhat convinced is a demi-god.  And yet knowing that someone is already the World Champion.  That it’s been decided.  That the series is over.  It was a lot more of an interesting psychological experiment than I meant it to be.  I was actually just caught in an epic overbooking of myself.

Allow me to explain!

I bought those concert tickets long before Game 7 was on the radar screen and travelled to Los Angeles for it.  For a second (okay, more than a second) I considered playing hookey but I ended up going and yeah, the singer, Philippe Jaroussky, was all demi-god-ish and brilliant and sang three encores and I swooned and got his autograph (it’s perfectness is slightly decreased by the fact that it says, “To Emily” not “To Diamond Girl”, but he was French and I didn’t want him thinking Americans normally have names like Diamond Girl, so…) and was more than, much more than, glad that I went.

So I then plugged my ears, did not turn on my iPod or talk to anyone, spent two hours in LA traffic (I am gritting my teeth together at the thought) and then, around midnight, turned on my television and speed watched the game, through the seventh inning.  At which point, by some strange luck, the DVR informed me that the recording had ended, because it conflicted with a taping of Grey’s Anatomy Desperate Housewives of Kansas.  Or something.  So after swirling my ice water around in my glass and screaming at the screen for a minute, I took a deep breath and checked my trusty At Bat App.

And my blissful ignorance went up in a cloud of Southern California smog.

I stared for a good long moment.  And then for a few more good long moments.  I tried to muster some congratulatory feelings towards St. Louis, but they didn’t really flow easily.  Even more so when I saw David Freese getting his hip little sports car.  I am going to need a little while to get over this one.

But yeah, congratulations to the Cardinals.  Because really, they had an amazing, bizarre year and Showtime now has a darn perfect team to follow next year.  And Texas put up a heck of a fight.  It was a dramatic, basically well-played series overall and both teams are really, truly great.

And now the season is over.  That’s the part I can’t get over.  I keep expecting there to just be another game, another anything, but there isn’t.  Free agency kicks in pretty soon, the Hot Stove is heating up and we have a million and one Giants and Rangers topics to break down and beard choices to dissect.

So this is where I say thank you all for following this year and all that jazz and wonderfulness.   Let’s comfort each other at this difficult time.  I, for my part, promise frequent offseason posts, in between Philippe videos, and photos of my blue Coraline hair on Halloween.  Because I know you totally want to see it.

Xs and Os, my friends.  Xs and Os.  We can survive these months together.  Listen to Aubrey Huff sing, for starters.

Diamond Girl

p.s.  Tip of the day: all you need to get into a snazzy, members-only lounge with brazed lamb chops and a bunch of desserts and the best coffee in the greater Los Angeles area and candlelit tables without paying is an adorable little brother.  I mean, it worked for me.  And it was awesome.  That is what I will be meditating on in the cold winter days to come.

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Play-By-Play of Me During Game 6 of the World Series

 Please note: I am not usually (exactly) this bi-polar.  Not usually.

At the end of the first half inning- Rangers 1, Cardinals coming up

This game is going to be so good!  Super stoked!  Yay!

At the end of the first inning- Rangers 1, Cardinals 2

One of those games, huh?  Okay, whatever.  The Rangers can do that better than the Cards.

At the middle of the second inning- Rangers 2, Cardinals 2

See?  What did I say above?  Texas can totally do this.

At the end of the second inning- Rangers 2, Cardinals 2

*whistles happily to self*

At the middle of the third inning- Rangers 2, Cardinals 2

somebodyscoresomebodyscoresomebodyscore

At the end of the third inning- Rangers 2, Cardinals 2

nobodyscorenobodyscorenobodyscore

At the middle of the fourth inning- Rangers 3, Cardinals 2

They heard me!  Somebody scored!

At the end of the fourth inning- Rangers 3, Cardinals 2

No, you weren’t supposed to score too.

At the middle of the fifth inning- Rangers 4, Cardinals 3

I think baseball should be re-named ping-pong.

At the end of the fifth inning- Rangers 4, Cardinals 3

Or not.  No more ping-pong for us.

At the middle of the sixth inning- Rangers 4, Cardinals 3

What’s that, a zero on the board?  *displays googley eyes*

At the end of the sixth inning- Rangers 4, Cardinals 4

Okay, I was completely expecting that.

At the middle of the seventh inning- Rangers 7, Cardinals 4

Three runs and caprese pasta for dinner.  Mmmmmm.

At the end of the seventh inning- Rangers 7, Cardinals 4

No runs.  Salad with avocado.  Even bigger mmmmmmmm.

At the middle of the eighth inning- Rangers 7, Cardinals 4

So what’s for dessert?  And what should I tweet when this is over?

At the end of the eighth inning- Rangers 7, Cardinals 5

Should I just tweet or post on Facebook, too?

At the middle of the ninth inning- Rangers 7, Cardinals 5

I am not a nail-biter, but now I am getting genuinely goosebumpy.  They’re about to… you know…

At the end of the ninth inning- Rangers 7, Cardinals 7

(This is where Diamond Girl died)

At the middle of the tenth inning- Rangers 9, Cardinals 7

(and this is where she was shockingly resurrected)

At the end of the tenth inning- Rangers 9, Cardinals 9

(and then died again)

At the middle of the eleventh- Rangers 9, Cardinals 9

(and then decided, screw it, she was eating her pumpkin pie, this isn’t ending any time soon)

At the end of the eleventh inning- Final score, Rangers 9, Cardinals 10

And then it ended.  I scraped the last bits of pumpkin pie crust off my plate, stuck said plate in the sink and stared at the TV screen, with a mingling of shock, heartbrokenness and insane desire for Game 7 to start already.  Seriously, how much hours until the 5:00?  (Which is when the Rangers will… you know…)

Diamond Girl

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Letter to the Weather Gods

Dear Weather Gods,

In case I have failed to mention it before, I really love you and your rain.  I love the way it smells and sounds and looks.  I spend my summer bowed down in front of the window praying to you for rain (sort of).  But I can also never say enough times that context is everything.

Hear that?  Yes?  So then what on earth would motivate you to schedule a downpour, perfectly timed to allow the Cardinals to use their ace-guy on short rest in the possible elimination game?  Really, what?

If it’s money you’re after, I can provide it.  In large quantities.  I mean, you’ll have to wait until that lame-looking flick with Ben Stiller and Eddy Murphy comes out next month and teaches me the ins and outs of robbing penthouses, but after that I will deliver.

If this is a power thing, then y’all need therapy.  I get that you’re better than us and can affect even things as important as the World Series, but really, we all learned that lesson way back when, when you did your thing for forty days and forty nights.  And everyone died.  Time to move on.

If you think this is funny in some way, then head over to a local comedy club and regale the patrons with this story.  When no one laughs, come back to me and apologize.

If it’s a Cardinals win you’re after… I don’t even know what to say.  Except that you should really choose your allegiances more carefully because that reflects really poorly on you.  May even change my opinion of rain.  Seriously.

Stay safe.  And drizzly.

xoxo,

Diamond Girl

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A Resounding “Yes” to Smoke Signals

Q.  I think this was brought up earlier, but is there a problem when something like that can happen? Is there a better way to do it?

La Russa: Yeah, smoke signals from the dugout.

Quotes taken from Big League Stew on Yahoo.

Hey, it isn’t exactly aesthetically pleasing but I also don’t think anyone would mistake it for Lynn, right?  I am now, at last, convinced that La Russa is indeed the managerial genius everyone seems to think he is.  Smoke signals are just what the Cardinals need.  And just the reason they are down 3-2 in the World Series.  If they instated smoke signals tomorrow, this series would be theirs.

But I hope they don’t.  Because the Rangers are so close I can smell it- I mean, I am closer to Texas here in Los Angeles- and it smells like blueberry muffins with coarse sugar on top and caprese pasta.   As Jon Miller would say, “mmm-mmm!”.  I am so excited I can barely believe it.

Diamond Girl

p.s.  That presser with Theo Esptein today was gold.  I just cannot get over the way General Managers say “organization”, with those fabulous, drawn-out vowels.  Love it to death.

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