Lots of folks have been ragging on Trever Miller for putting men on base (via a walk after shaking off veteran catcher Brad Ausmus) so that when Albert came to bat against Chad Qualls he not only hit homerun #25, but also brought two other runs in with him.

Seems to me their beef should be with you.

You see, as a knowledgeable baseball person, the question I’ve been asking (with a semi-smirked sigh of relief) is Why-Oh-Why did Miller come in at all?

The St. Louis-Houston matchup isn’t a new one. No, we have a fairly storied history together, especially of late. So you should know: We (the Cardinals) have the worst time with Roy Oswalt. He stymies us every time. We can hit Qualls, as you know. We can hit Lidge, as you know. Today we hit Miller, as you know. And we have far less trouble with Pettitte and Clemens than we do with Oswalt… as you know.

Seriously, we go into an Oswalt game hoping to be able to keep the game close– within one or two runs– and then pray for an early departure so we can get our bats going on whoever (as in, ANYBODY) else is willing to take the mound against us. And tonight our hopes came to fruition without flaw.

Hey, Dummy. You played right into our hands. And you should know better.

Honestly, are you trying to tell me that Roy can’t pitch past 90 pitches effectively? He was keeping us at bay (as in no action from Pujols, the only time Rolen saw the base paths was via the sole walk RO granted, and induced two double plays) yet you pulled him at 91 pitches… after only six innings on the mound. (We let Jason Marquis toss 106 to get him into the seventh inning, and he was trailing by a run! Maybe our guy is tougher than your guy.)

Anyway, I couldn’t believe it… and was so happy about the exchange that I got up and did a "We’re Going To Win" jig in my living room because that gave us three full innings to swing away at the expense of somebody who wasn’t Roy Oswalt, the bane of our Texas Connection.

Which, by the way, we did. And we got three runs in the process.

I hate to give away our secrets, but anyone with a couple years worth of box scores will tell you: The Cardinals (including the mighty Albert Pujols) have blind bats when Roy Oswalt takes the mound. Long live Miller, Qualls, Lidge and anyone else not named Roy Oswalt.

You know my opinion of Jason Isringhausen. Either he’s on and doing his job or, too often for my taste, he’s off and giving away games. He makes the pessimist in me want to beat the snot out of my inner optimist. That being said, this entry may come as a bit of a surprise, if not a breath of fresh air.

I want to personally thank Jason Isringhausen for being on his game today.

You heard me. I said I want to give credit where credit is due, and today it belongs to Jason Isringhausen.

I give him the business a lot because, well, this season (even more so than seasons past) his efforts have been a little suspect, in my opinion. But others have had continued faith in him, even when I have not. And today he performed up to the level that all parties want to see him reach on a regular basis.

And what a day to do it on! Today’s starter Jason Marquis struggled through the early innings of his outing, hitting three batters and giving away a run (the Astros only run of the game) that he allowed wholly on his own. And for the longest time it seemed that Houston was only going to need the one run in order to take a win from our Cardinals.

But thankfully, and somewhat inexplicably, the Astros management relieved their ace Roy Oswalt of his duties in the sixth inning. (Are they crazy?!) Their mistake. As has been our MO in games past, a different face on the mound was all we needed to jump start our bats. It didn’t matter who it was going to be, it just needed to be someone other than Oswalt. (Man, we can never hit him!)

And, so, as would be expected, we put runners on the bases as quickly as we could to set up Albert Pujols’ 25th homer of the season: a three run job over the left field wall. Which brings us to Izzy in the ninth inning with a two run lead. Not only did he save the game (Marquis earned the W) but he actually mustered the presence to get four (!!!) outs. (A fly foul ball down the right field line fell out of Juan Encarnacion’s glove. It would have been out #2 had he held on to it.)

So, on behalf of Jason Marquis, myself, and Cardinals fans everywhere, I’d like to extend long overdue accolades (as much Izzy’s fault as it is mine) and a mighty mighty Thank You.

Thank you, Izzy. We needed you today and you came through with flying colors.

Quick Hits On Yesterday’s (5.28.06 vs. San Diego) Game:

1.Jake Peavy may very well be the Monica Seles of baseball. He grunts when he throws. I’m talking a real audible effort. (Granted, I was sitting pretty close to the field but I could hear him all the same. Especially when he was putting some extra oomph in is pitches to Scott Rolen.) It’s got to be distracting the first few times you face him. Hey, maybe THAT’s the secret to his success…

2.Mark Mulder was in a pitching funk. His pitches were soft and uneventful for the most part. Very peculiar. His curve was the worst: It came fluttering to the plate kind of like a golf ball rolling over the green, where it sort of lost momentum going up a hill and then gained some speed on the way down thanks to the sheer principles of gravity. Seriously, some of those curves barely hit 60mph. I’ll bet half of those offerings, Yadi could have caught with his bare hands. Well, it only took the Padres a couple rounds through their lineup before they could get a handle on Mark’s out-of-sorts pitches (it was like the ball had to muscle its way through the deep end before it could get to the plate), and that’s when they started pounding the ball.

3.The little girl next to me asked her dad if they could get a "muslim" for their puppy because he’s starting to bite. That was funny.

4.Albert Pujols punched homerun #24 over the center field wall. Leading up to all during his at-bat, the guy in front of me kept pleading, "Walk him. He’s way over due. First base is open. Walk him!" But Padres manager Bruce Bochy wouldn’t listen and the next thing you knew… (There were 10 other homeruns during this series, by the way.)

5.Oh my gosh! That was a monster collision at the plate between Mike Cameron and Yadier Molina! A train wreck! And though it was clear that the tackle was an obvious case of making the most out of being a sure out (the ball beat him by a mile and Cameron never even attempted to touch the plate), Yadi held on to the ball– despite enduring enough force to have his mask, his helmet, his ballcap and even his sunglasses knocked off his head! (And, if I could hear Jake Peavy heaving his way through his repetoir, you can bet your boots there was thunder in my ears when Molina took that hit!)

6.Juan Encarnacion was swinging like a wild man yesterday. He was pulling his head so far out he may have ended up looking into the dugout after some of his mighty whiffs. And the way he was yanking his arms around sent his upper body flailing… you’da thought his torso was going to twist right off his hips. Just plain crazy swings, I tell ya. Crazy.

7.Why, oh why does LaRussa insist (or at least remain convinced) that Jim Edmonds can pinch hit? He can’t. Never has been able to, and certainly wasn’t going to start in yesterday’s game considering his current state of health. But there he was. We needed runs in the ninth. We had two men out and one man on and out came Jimmy. Not a soul in the park got excited over his appearance. We all knew– even the San Diego fans– that the game was now over. SOOOO aggravating.

8. And this happened on Saturday, but it’s too funny not to mention: I saw a kid get hit by a foul tip. Now, normally that would be scary and dangerous– not that this particular instance shouldn’t have been as well, I suppose– but this was more funny than anything else.

The boy in question and his family had those primo seats closest to homeplate, right behind the backstop. And, in fact, they were seated in the very first row. Well, as is typical for many youngsters (and this kid was about 11 or so) the centerpiece of my story wasn’t paying much attention to the game. At least not at this moment. Instead, he was standing in the aisle and looking the other direction. And so, when one of the Padres batters fouled one straight back and into the backstop net, this kid had no idea what hit him. (People forget that, unlike the fiberglass ring at a hockey game, backstop netting gives.)

Have you ever seen a bird get hit by a shot from a BB gun? A poof of feather is sometimes the onlny evidence that i bird was ever there in the first place? Well, that’s what this kid looked like. But instead of a bluster of feathers we saw hair, arms and whatever it was he was carrying go flying… and then he was gone.

As his mother helped him up you couldn’t help but laugh… in a nice way, of course. It was such a comical sight.

Yes, yes, yes. The poor kid was fine. A little shaken up– or maybe stunned is a better word for it– but he’s gonna survive.

So there I was, intently watching the game, when John Rodriguez kicked back a foul ball that sailed over our seats, ricocheted off the cement balcony of the level above us and then landed in my chair… while I was still sitting in it.

That’s the Cliff’s Notes account of what happened. Here’s the "in living color" version:

Now, I suppose I must start by explaining: I don’t chase foul balls. Never have. Not even as a kid. I’ve gotten them before, sure, but more often than not, they found their way to me, not the other way around. Either someone else caught the ball and gave it to me or it got knocked around enough that eventually it just rolled my way or something like that.

I’m not much of a souvenir hound all together, really… In the sense that I seldom ask for autographs or the like (and certainly not while the guys are on the field). Although, to be fair, I must say that I’ve acquired my share of keepsakes. But honestly, most were received without much effort on my part. Either I’ve gotten things as gifts, or a player has given me something because I happened to be sitting nearby or by some other form of dumb luck. (Did I tell you about the time I got trapped by a torrential rainstorm in a field supply closet with the trainer for the Cardinals’ Triple A team? The next thing I know Dan Haren, Bo Hart and John Gall were visiting me on the set of a movie I was filming in New Orleans. No joke. I mean, seriously, you can’t plan something like that. But stuff like that happens to me more times than you can shake a stick at.)

Ok. I did ask a player for his broken bat once… during a game as he was coming off the field to trade sides between innings. And, yes, he gave it to me… signed. (Beau Allred, playing for the Cleveland Indians’ Triple A affiliate of the time: The Colorado Springs SkySox. I was in junior high or high school at the time.)

But my point is, generally, when I go to a game it’s to watch baseball. Leave all the extracurricular activities to the folks who are trying to figure out how to occupy themselves for nine innings. Seriously, as grown men (and every now and then, women) fight with each other– clawing, elbowing, punching– climb over children, scale walls and shove old women aside just so they can jockey for a ball, I find no need to get involved. To get knocked around by a bunch of over-zealous ball hounds, isn’t something that appeals to me. Not even for a prime Major League keepsake.

For the most part, I just keep my eye on the ball so that neither I nor those around me get hurt. So it was today when J-Rod hacked one over the backstop. I watched it sail over my head, whack off the cement balcony above our section and bound back in my direction. As the ball was on the rebound, peripherally I could see and hear the bodies gathering from nearby sections. From the "Here it comes!" and "Get over there!(‘s)" and "Move, move, move!(‘s)" I knew the ball was destined to be caught (and soon!) though I wasn’t looking forward to the melee that was bound to happen right behind me.

So, casually, I turned my back on the free-for-all– to face the field– and bent out of the way.

From my "sheltered" position this is how the impending crash of bodies unfolded: There was much scuffling and shuffling. Some grunts and groans. There might have even been a cuss word or two. And then came the expected contact from foreign bodies…

Except it wasn’t the kind of contact I had been expecting. Instead of the whams and bams of people far more aggressive than me, or the sharp knock of a hard-hit ball in motion, or the weight of off-balance men, or the cold, sticky splash of someone’s beverage, I felt something far different. What I felt slid softly down my side and rested itself on my right hip. It had no discernible weight or force but had the motion and determination of a foot sliding into a sock. As if someone had tucked a rolled piece of paper into this soft spot for safe keeping.

Not knowing where the volley for the foul ball had led or was leading, I gently turned to see what it was that had nestled itself against my side… and that’s when the man in front of me and down a few seats announced, "It’s right there, honey, in your chair." And sure enough, there, wedged between my hip and the arm of my chair was the ball.

I couldn’t believe it. (How did all those yahoos miss the ball as it came fluttering down off the balcony?!) I can only imagine that after slip-sliding from one grasping hand to another set of out-reached fingertips, it pinballed itself to me. (And I suppose no one was willing to go fishing for it now that it was lodged by some woman’s rear end.)

So, I simply reached down and picked it up, becoming the proud owner of an Official Major League Baseball, made by Rawlings and hit into the stands by Cardinals outfielder John Rodriguez in the third inning of a matchup between St. Louis and San Diego at Pet-co Stadium on Memorial Weekend of 2006.

Once again, I bumbled my way into being in the right place at the right time. Typical. And so continues the string of random occurrences by which I have been amassing a lifetime’s worth of cool and interesting memorabilia. (Don’t worry. I’m a pack rat. I keep everything.)

This post is currently under construction…

(I just finished uploading all the new pix and now I’m starving and I have to go to the bathroom.)

If you can’t hold out for tonight, be sure to check back tomorrow. (I’m sorry, but midnight is my kind of noon. haha)

–Mollie

Photos from today’s Cards vs. Padres game are now posted in the series photo album.

Enjoy!

–Mollie