Some quick hits and some three-dot journalism.
I’m always amazed at the places where Cardinal baseball comes up. I was in the hospital last week for a procedure and watched the final gasp against the Red Sox.
People were coming and going to see my 80-something roommate and moaning about the outcome.
Several times I heard him spin some sage advice about how a young team had come a long way and the faithful shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, if we won all the time, it wouldn’t be special when we did, he noted.
He imparted his wisdom to about a half-dozen different people and I noticed two things about all of them. They listened and shut up.
When you drop names like Dean, Slaughter and Musial in a Cardinals conversation, the faithful listen.
It was the second time I’d heard about the Cardinals while in the hospital. Two years ago I was in a hospital for a similar procedure when I heard three nurses talking.
It was November and they were discussing whether the Cardinals should keep Albert Pujols in light of Matt Holliday’s hitting prowess.
I knew I was back in Missouri when I heard three women talking baseball. That has never happened in any other place I’ve ever lived.
Two rabid female fans at a game maybe, but three women talking baseball in the offseason? Only in Cardinal Nation.
Just before I went to the hospital I had three of my best friends from St. Louis out for a boys-only weekend.
We did the usual, cooked steaks, drank beer, told lies and laughed about the good old days.
We don’t drink as much beer as we used to or stay up as late, but the same old lies get better and more embellished as time goes on.
I’ve known these people so long I can say one phrase and touch off 15 minutes of discussion about something insane we did 40 years ago.
I know exactly what one of them means by a shrug or a unique gesture all their own.
One of the reasons I moved back to Missouri was to be around my old buddies. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I did.
One of the things confronting my friend when I arrived was the million or so walnuts that have fallen off the tree in my side yard, where the largest walnut tree I’ve ever seen resides.
I tried picking them up about a month ago, only to see my hard work come back within days with another million walnuts.
The morning after the first frost, they were dropping like bombs and I had to walk around the tree for fear of getting hit.
Country living is good for the head but if you’re not careful, you can get hurt on the noggin.’