Today a columnist in the St. Louis Post Dispatch wrote:
Boy, I love Phillips and I love the Reds, but not like some insatiable fanatic loves them. It’s because the Cards need a proper antagonist for a fascinating summer story. Cards vs. Cubs is a sophomoric excuse to sit in the stands and guzzle beer, but it is not a real baseball rivalry, because nothing of significance ever is at stake when they meet. Something important has to be at stake to stoke rivalries. Championship hardware ought to be up for grabs, or at least part of any reasonable conversation.
Cards vs. Cubs is “Porky’s II.”
Cards vs. Reds is something rich and rewarding.
There’s a prickly history to these engagements. The true bad blood might have subsided a bit now that Cards manager Tony La Russa has retired. But the fact that the NL Central will be settled during the course of these summer-long skirmishes creates a must-see atmosphere that is too intriguing to ignore.
Hours before the game, I found Reds manager Dusty Baker leaning against the batting cage railing, looking out at the expanse of this picturesque ballpark, and he couldn’t stop grinning.
“Well, here we go again,” he said.
And he didn’t have to say anything else, because we knew exactly what he was talking about.
Cincinnati vs. St. Louis is one of those battles that demands our attention, provokes our best competitive sensibilities. Even on days like this when the Reds destroyed the Cards, the essence of why they did it speaks to the nature of this competition. In the top of the ninth inning, with the score still tied at 4-4 and Cincinnati having runners on first and second, Phillips grabbed his bat and began to climb the dugout steps. Just before he reached the top step, Baker looked at Phillips, smiled and told him something that managed to pierce the din of all the jeers.
“Well, I just told him, ‘Send them home tonight,’” Baker said.
And Phillips complied, doubling in the first run in a nine-run, six-hit barrage.
And as he arrived on second base, pumping his fist and flicking his hands in a “makin’ it rain” gesture, Phillips heard the strangest sound he’d heard all day.
It wasn’t boos.
It was silence.
Actually it was the low-pitched rumble of dispirited Cardinals fans grabbing their belongings and heading for the exits.