Woooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Before I get to the meat of this matter, I owe some of you in internet land some thanks. First and foremost, I want to thank you readers for putting up with all the baseball writing. I know most of you could give a damn, and yet many of you read the baseball pieces anyway. I promise all of you, you won't hear another word about baseball from me until March (well, I mean, after this piece). That's a solemn vow.

Second and not quite as foremost, I want to thank Justin Rebello for once again exchanging emails with me during the post season (and for just handing me the proverbial microphone after game 5). Justin and I are very different writers and we're fans of very different leagues, and I think that's one of the things that makes the MLB email exchange work. Two guys from different backgrounds, regions and fan bases just riffing on the games from their separate perspectives. Hopefully, J-Reb will be back for the NFL playoffs.

Now, on to the meat of the matter.

The St. Louis Cardinals are the World Series Champions.

World? Series? Champions!

The last time this happened, Mom was still cutting up meat for brother Jay and I, and brother Tom was still learning how to complete sentences. Hell, sister Tiffany was still learning how to crap on a toilet. It's been a long time. Maybe not "1918" long. But long nonetheless.

But, much like Mark McGuire, I'm not here to talk about the past.

Now, I'm not a journalist, I don't have near the established readership that ESPN.com does, and I'm about as unbiased as Joe Buck when it comes to rooting for the Cardinals. Nevertheless, I feel that my contribution to this World Series was overlooked. So, I'm using this opportunity to tell you, dear readers, how I helped the Cardinals win.

I did not talk to Brother Tom all series. During the NLCS, I called Brother Tom twice during the games. Each time I called, we lost. We vowed never to talk to each other during a game again.

I wore the same two shirts over and over again, even though it meant doing laundry every third day.

During the series, I drank nothing but Budweiser in a bottle (which I purchased for luck in the ninth inning of the NLCS) despite the fact that I've had beer shits for almost a week.

But perhaps my greatest contribution/sacrifice happened in game 1 of the World Series, when I accidentally left my patio door open, but didn't notice until Anthony Reyes had completed a 1-2-3 inning. Then, I vowed not to close that door until he gave up a hit. The increase of bugs and lizards in my apartment is hardly noticeable, thanks to Reyes going only six more innings (almost two hours) before giving up a hit.

And in case you think I'm absolutely fucking insane, I want you to understand something.

I wasn't alone.

My Dad wore twenty-six year-old red Pumas during Game 7. He wore those shoes to the first Cardinal game he ever went to, which was a winner.

I don't even want to guess how many shirts and hats Brother Tom owns which were deemed unlucky or lucky during the series.

My friend JT has worn the same socks since Game 7 of the NLCS, despite his wife withholding sex, refusing to cook and finally threatening divorce. Right after the Cardinals won, she ripped those socks off his feet, doused them in lighter fluid and set them on fire (and you think I'm joking).

I could go on like this for thousands of words, but I think you get it, right now. The collective karma of Cardinals fans was insane.

But I don't think anything can really sum up how it felt to win the World Series better than the message placed on my machine at 5 AM by Old Friend Sean, who, (much like myself) moved away from St. Louis when he was a teenager.

"I've never missed St. Louis so much before in my life. I can't believe I'm saying this, but right now, that's the best place in all the world to be. I mean, did you ever think you would say that about St. Louis?"

No, Sean. I never did.

It's times like this when I wish I was a better writer, when I wish I could describe to you the generations of emotions that exploded over the top of Busch Stadium last night, but the truth of the matter is, I'm not that good.

So, I'll go back to my strong suit, and just leave it at this:

Woooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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