Twenty-Seven
When I woke up Thursday morning, I wasn’t expecting to see a humdinger of a show-down: St. Louis vs. Milwaukee, a four and a half hour spectacle downtown. But sometimes you just buy the right ticket.
It was Linnea-Irish after another long, and unexpected, shift at work who joined me for my 27th, back up in our 10-pack corner in Section 434. As predicted, Uncle Rico and a buddy climbed the cement steps only slightly late, hauling peanut butter M&Ms and cheese crackers. I think he might have taken notes on Carrie’s and my game fare.
Anyway, it was Irish’s first experience with Uncle Rico, and she had to concur about the similarity. “Has he ever eaten onion rings and a shake up here? Because if he did, I would definitely take a picture of it and label it, ‘That time you saw Uncle Rico at the Cards game.’”
So, it all really started going down in the 8th. Down by two runs, Matt Holliday dove head-first into 1st. Called out. The crowd roared in disapproval. Deliberation. Replay on the screen: clearly safe. Crowd went crazy. Replay again: Matt Holliday flying slow-mo through the air. More frenzy. He was safe. Game tied one batter later when Matt Adams walked.
Then … extras.
Irish ran for the bathroom between innings. She ran back, startled.
“Wait. What happened? Someone in the bathroom said the Brewers just went up by one. People were panicking in there!”
I envisioned a bunch of women running around screaming with their arms in the air, SpongeBob style. But, no. Tied.
As the 11th rolled in, Linnea and I began to dabble around with the idea of finding empty seats down low. We pondered when it was our best opportunity to move. The crowds were definitely hanging on, but people with kids and early alarms were reluctantly beginning to leave.
“When’s your best guess for when this thing is going to end?” Irish asked me.
I checked the line-up again of glowing orange names. “If we win? The 13th.”
Top of the 13th, we hustled. Level 4 to Level 1. Two prime seats just a few rows back, right side of the dugout. Matt Adams, Sam Freeman, Tony Cruz, just a few of the guys front and center. Ridiculous. Linnea and I tried not to act that excited. Okay, we didn’t really try that hard.
Top of the 13th: Holliday muscled a single, Adams force-out, Peralta single. Crowd going nuts. Then little Tony Cruz, “Wolf of Clark Street” – walk. off. single. Mobbed. Stadium about exploded. This, is play-off baseball.