For those who know me, I'm a wee bit obsessive about baseball.
Especially the Cardinals. I grew up listening to them with my dad and his dad, while out on the farm, in the truck, in the farmhouse. My dad and I went to games. Straight-A tickets were my life in grade school, and when I couldn't get 'em anymore, I bugged my siblings to get 'em.
Sure, I married a Twins fan. It's a mixed marriage. If we end up in the World Series against each other, I've promised to move out to save the marriage.
I'm not joking. Those of you who know me best know that.
So the recent eight-game skid has sent me over the edge.
My husband is a Twinkie's fan. He's philosophical about losses. My eldest is a Cubs fan (I know, I know, I'm working on it). She's learning that it's expected and a fact of life.
So, watching the last two innings of the game last night on Fox Sports Midwest (greatest invention ev-ah), I was about to throw in the towel in the ninth. Hubby made me stay.
Bernie Miklasz of the Post-Dispatch(who I've been reading since he was a cub reporter and I was a kid), details how nuts we Cards fans get in light of a fluke win after an eight-game skid.