Just when I thought I was out…They pull me right back in. This team is worse than the girl who broke your heart in 8th grade. No, this Cardinals team is the girl you dated, broke up with you, and then would randomly hook up with you once in a while just to keep you on the hook. Then, just as abruptly, she would cut it off again. (Or so I have heard this is a phenomenon that occurs in adolescents.)


I started doing it again last night at Busch before the Cubs-Cards began the series. I broke out my abacus and began ranting in a hyper-manic state about winning 16 or 19 and putting voodoo curses on the arms of Harden and Zambrano.  I think I was subconsciously waiting for the bald guy from the A & E show “Intervention” (hopefully not the Irish troll looking woman, she scares me) to come lead me into a corridor underneath Busch stadium where are all my friends and family jumped to hug me. The lispy gentlemen would ask my Dad to go first.

Dad: “Andy, I want you to know that I love you more than anything. You are my only son and you mean the world to me. But your addiction to the hopes of this 2008 Cardinals’ team is tearing this family apart. I cannot go on watching you go on this roller coaster of writing this teams’ obituary only to revert to talk of a miracle run. I won’t let you do it.


If you are not willing to admit this team is done, our relationship will change in the following ways. We will not go to games together. I will not respond to your late night texts claiming that Pujols is a deity or that you saw Carlos Zambrano in an Al Qaeda terrorist training video. I will not take your calls when you ramble about how you won’t watch the movie “Major League” anymore because Bob Uecker is the Brewers’ announcer.


Andy, we are offering you help. Please stop and focus on the hot-stove league for next season and what additions we need to make for our future. It is over.”


Andy: I refuse to go quietly into the night. (This is not entirely accurate as I have written this team off for about 4 straight articles but don’t let facts get in the way of a good story.)


For the eighth time, I don’t think this team has enough. Albert Pujols is an MVP by any measuring stick imaginable. The Cardinals on Tuesday evening were waiting for Pujols’ entrance like Bobby Brown peering out his window waiting for his dealer. They were jonesing for some 5. But I doubt they can string the wins together they need. Not with no head-to-head games with Milwaukee and not with the Phillies and Astros right in the mix.


That being said, Tuesday night felt like September baseball. It was long overdue. It had all the drama you could ask for and drama that only baseball could provide. Taking the extra base, questionable managerial moves, pitching mistakes, a key late inning homerun where you say, “If you are the man, better do it here…and then he does it.” That is the best kind of baseball satisfaction for me. More often that not, it seems things don’t come through in “obvious” moments. But Tuesday Albert pulled the, “Yeah, I know…I need to hit an opposite field 3 run jack because you all are worthless” move and then he did just that. It was perfect.


But here are a few things to keep in mind as we try to get white hot. We need to utilize Carpenter as the closer as much as possible and he will come through. We need to cut off Ron Villone’s left arm in the same way we should castrate violent sex offenders. “He can’t hurt you anymore Bobby, see, he can’t pitch with his other hand. He will never be allowed to take that mound again.”


If Glaus is out, we need someone to have to have an unexpected ridiculous September at the plate. My hope is that it is Felipe Lopez. I have heard from people that know that Lopez is one of these guys that, well, let’s just say he has other interests than baseball. This troubles me. Can’t we get a scout that has a title called something like, “Extra Curricular Investigator?” Okay, the title needs work but the guy’s job would basically be to see if the free agent we sign has his life together. The scout could score it like the real scouts do with baseball. Maybe a one to five scale in a number of categories. For example, this is a hypothetical scoring system for, say, Ronnie Belliard.


Alcohol: 4
Drugs: 2.5
Women: 5
Taco Bell: 5+


If we are going to invest so much money and hopes in these players, shouldn’t we get a scoop on if they are going to be at Pepper Lounge until 3 a.m. the day before a Thursday day game? Just a thought.


But closing up my assessment of the last few weeks, it probably won’t happen. It can’t happen, right? But we do have two September series with the Flubs. So, we have that going for us. Which is nice. And at least for one night in September, I saw a dramatic and meaningful Cardinals game once again.