Editor’s Note: The following may be the hardest article I have ever written.  But deep down, I write.  It is how I express myself and it is why this site exists in the first place.  I appreciate you reading and visiting the site on a regular basis.

Baseball, Hot Dogs, Apple Pie and Chevrolet
That very easily could have been the theme song around my house growing up.  While the winter months were passed by paying attention to the National Football League and the NCAA March Madness tournament, nothing compared to baseball in my youth.  Sundays during the summer meant trips to St. Louis to see our beloved Cardinals play.  Weeknights were spent watching the game on television, if it was on, or listening to it on the radio if it was not televised.  The love of the game was not something that I had to learn, it flowed through my blood and was enhanced by the wisdom handed down by my father.

When someone is born with material items (money, cars, homes) at their disposal without any work needed on their part, we say they were born “with a silver spoon in their mouth”.  If that is true, members of my family must have been born with a baseball in their hands.  The old stories handed down through my family involve children who could throw a ball before they could walk and children with the knowledge to explain the infield fly rule before they knew their alphabet.  For many of us, there was no choice: we loved this game.

Love of the game was nurtured and enhanced in my home.  My father spent time explaining the rules and the strategy of the game while watching with me.  He showed me the things to watch for during those times that the casual fan considers to be “inactivity”: the movement of the defense, the adjustment in the batter’s box, the adjustment of the catcher.  The poetry of the game was instilled in me as I watched and listened to each pitch.

He taught me about the game and also painted a mental picture of larger-than-life individuals.  Stories of great players that I would later research and learn more about were told through his own eyes.  From hard-nosed, hustle style baseball that he would later teach me to play myself to chance meetings with legends from his era, I felt like I sat next to him during countless games featuring players like Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Bob Gibson and Stan Musial.  Careers of players like Pete Rose, Rod Carew, Robin Yount and Lou Whitaker bridged the gap to the players of my generation and his.

Those Sunday trips to St. Louis were filled with moments that would stand out in my memory forever.  I met ballplayers, developed friendships with other fans, and learned the ins and outs of being a “bleacher bum”.  My dad was a different person when we were at the ballpark.  All the stress of life was gone while we were there.  He very seldom had a drink at a game, he did not want anything to distract him from the moment.  He was vibrant, fun, and genuine.  Opposing players were subject to his cat-calls and heckles.  Umpires were subject to his ridicule, something he would never allow himself the liberty of while playing.  He would teach me incredible life lessons on sunflower seeds and peanuts.

Baseball was not just a game that was played in front of me, however.  At a young age, it manifested as games of catch in the back yard.  When friends were over, it was a game of “hot box” or “Indian ball” that involved grand dreams of game sevens and home town fans.  As I got older, it was hours and hours of defensive drills and, if I was lucky, a little batting practice.  It was ground balls and pop-ups, learning the spin and identifying where the ball would go, and ultimately bonding.

He would eventually become my coach, working me harder than anyone else and expecting me to be flawless but spending the time to make sure that I understood what I did that caused a mistake and how to avoid it in the future.  When he had taught me the fundamentals and was seeing fewer mistakes in my physical game, he made sure I understood the mental side of the game and, most importantly, the respect it deserved.

It was an early spring day when we arrived to practice before anyone else.  We stepped out of the dugout so that we could warm up with some catch and then some long toss.  He squatted down in the same way that I had seen him do numerous times before, scooping a fistful of dirt and letting it pass through his hand and back to the ground.  I do not remember how old I was, but I remember finally asking why he did it.

He explained the physical benefits of drying his hands so the ball would not slip.  He also explained the old hustle mindset of not feeling that he had been on the field if he was not dirty.  He also told me that it was a time for him to reflect on the respect for the game and the field.  His explanation was based on his thoughts when he did this each time he stepped on a field.  He told me:

“You are not now, nor will you ever be the best player to play on this field.  Thousands have been here before you and countless will be here long after you.  There is always someone better.  All you can do is give this field, this game, everything you have.”

It was then that he laid down a new set of rules for me.  Rules outside of the rule book, outside of the document game, rules based in respect and history of the game.  Some were the typical “unwritten” rules that you hear about: don’t step on the foul lines, adjust the dirt in the batter’s box to cover the chalk if you needed to crowd the plate, not talking to a pitcher during a no-hitter.  The one’s I held on to were the one’s that he played the game by:

• Absolutely no cussing while on the field
• A strikeout was the worst thing you could do at the plate
• A fielding error was worse
• there was only one way to play the game: hard
• not running, at any point, was unacceptable.  Walks, home runs, onto the field and off the field were no exceptions.
• respect the umpires on the field and discuss your opinions with them after the game
• “showing up” an umpire, another player, or any coach would get you removed from the game and benched for the next one

I don’t think I realized until I was much older that his rules for the game and his dedication to the time he and I spent surrounding the game were life lessons.  He had a physically demanding job that worked him incredibly long hours during the summer but he always found a way to make some time.  Some days it was watching the game instead of playing catch, but the time was always spent.

He was hard on me, there is no denying that.  Some said it was because of his military background.  Others have said “you’re always hardest on your child”.  Looking back, I realize that he knew what I was capable of and the time we had put into everything and he felt just as disappointed as I did when it did not work.

Baseball stayed at the center of our relationship when I became an adult.  Many phone conversations were made longer with a simple “did you see the game last night” or a “any word on the trade front” question.  Visits were centered around watching the game together.  During the summer of 2003, we made a whirlwind weekend driving trip to Cooperstown to see the Baseball Hall Of Fame and Museum.  We spent that weekend watching Class A minor league baseball, youth league games at Doubleday Field, and the sites and sounds of baseball history.  I had no idea at the time that it would be one of the last trips I would make with my father before he lost his ability to walk.

We both watched bewildered as the Boston Red Sox would celebrate their World Championship on the infield of Busch Stadium.  I was with him, kneeling on his floor, in 2006 when the Cardinals won their first World Championship that we would both remember.  We were almost 300 miles away from each other in 2011 when they completed their magical run, but I was on the phone with him soon after.

On August 3, 2012, my father left this world.  He was honored by the military for his dedication to his country and remembered fondly by family and friends that loved him very much.  My children sent flowers that were red and white, contained a baseball, and a cardinal bird.  There were flowers from friends of mine that are bloggers, people I have only met because of a mutual love of this game, that felt the need to reach out to me at this time.  It was very fitting of the man to have his country and this game present.

Just thirteen days prior to his passing, I was united in marriage to someone that I met through the game of baseball.  Angela Weinhold was writing on her site, Diamond Diaries, when I interviewed her for Baseball Digest.  We took a modest honeymoon to St. Louis to see our team take on the Dodgers and to spend some time seeing the tourist type attractions in the city that we both love so deeply.  During this trip, Angela brought up the idea of going to the site of Sportsman’s Park, which is in an area that I was familiar with and generally did not go.  After some convincing, I agreed.

Shortly after arriving there, I found myself walking onto a little league field where home plate sat in the same location it was inside of Sportsman’s Park.  I walked up and stood there for a moment, taking in the history of the moment.  I remembered my father telling me about those that had walked on a field before me.  I imagined the players, both Cardinals and opposing, that had played on that field.  I imagined him sitting in the stands watching them with my grandfather and his uncle and cousins.

Looking back, I now realize that it was his love of the game that gave him the opportunity to show his love for me.  That the game gave him the basis of numerous life lessons to pass on to me.  That this game forever bound us together.

Watching the game now reminds me of him, as it should.  It bonded us forever and far beyond this Earthly plane.  It is because of my father that I love this game and now it is because of this game that I have so many fond memories of my father.

What if you had a player who hit for average, had a great outfield arm, was a positive veteran leader in the clubhouse and was an all around good guy, even to fans from a rival team? Well, the Royals have such a player, and his name is Jeff Francoeur. But if you talk to or listen to some Royals fans, one would think Francoeur is one of the worst players on the team. But that’s what happens when you’re a player who started their career with a bang, faded away and revived their career in Kansas City. Oh, yeah, and being from the Atlanta Braves and being one of Royals General Manager Dayton Moore’s favorite players is a part of it too.

To be honest, I’m not a Jeff Francoeur apologist, but sometimes I wonder why there’s such vitriol from some fans when it comes to Francoeur. Yes, he does strike out a lot and he sometimes has the plate discipline of a little leaguer hopped up on Spree and Dr. Pepper. But Francoeur does hit well and many opposing players have been thrown out trying to test his arm.

And it’s not like Francoeur is a jerk. He’s one of the nicest players in the game. Recently, he threw a baseball with $100 wrapped around it so fans in right field at Kauffman Stadium could buy some beer and hot dogs, which is the same thing Francoeur did for some fans in Oakland. His teammates like him and the Royals promote him as one of their key players with Frenchy Corner Thursdays, where fans in a section of right field get a t-shirt, Marti Gras beads (no flashing necessary) and a discount price on a ticket. But yet, some fans cannot stand Francoeur. Why?

One reason is Francoeur was an Atlanta Brave. It’s well known General Manager Dayton Moore likes to sign or trade for current or former Braves. Which is understandable, seeing Moore spent most of his baseball career in Atlanta. But it’s almost become a running joke that any player from the Braves who’s available will end up with the Royals. So when Francoeur became a free agent, they Royals signed him. To some fans, the signing had a rinse, repeat vibe to it.

There’s the argument Francoeur strikes out a lot and doesn’t walk a lot, which is true. But Francoeur has decent power and since his time with Kansas City, he’s hitting around the .280 range and he’s hit 25 total homers, which is more than most of the current Royals players.

There’s the argument Francoeur is keeping the young players down in the minors, especially Wil Myers. Yes, Myers is playing well in AAA Omaha and his bat is close to Major League ready, but what about his defense? At least the Royals know what they have in Jeff Francoeur, especially with his defense.

This year, Francoeur started slowly, but lately he’s been heating up. Before Tuesday’s game with the Cleveland Indians, Francoeur went 16-32 with four home runs and an eight game hitting streak before going 0-4 in Tuesday’s game. His bat could cool off again, but for now, he’s playing well.

Francoeur is signed through 2013, so unless he suffers a serious injury or is traded, he’s patrolling right field for the Royals. Sure, the Royals could trade Francoeur and replace him with Myers, but what is the real trade value for Francoeur? He’s revived his career in Kansas City, but he’s not the type of player that’s going to get a front of the rotation starter. The Royals might get a mid-level pitching prospect or two for Francoeur, but that won’t help in the short term. And with the unpredictability of pitching, it may not help in the long term either.

And there’s Francoeur’s good character and leadership in the Royals clubhouse. One can debate if “veteran leadership” or “clubhouse presence” has anything to do with wins or losses. But the Royals are a young team and they need some veteran leadership. Of course there’s veterans like Billy Butler, Alex Gordon and Bruce Chen, but according to Moore, Francoeur has natural leadership ability.

If Myers was ready, Francoeur provided good trade value and the Royals thought another veteran player could take over Francoeur’s leadership role, the decision to trade Francoeur would be easy. Or Francoeur could suffer an injury and force the Royals hand. But if things stay where they are now, it’s probably best for Francoeur to stay in right field and give Wil Myers more AAA seasoning. It might be be a hard pill for some fans to swallow, but for now, Jeff Francoeur is the best choice in right field.

The season is finally here.  No more what ifs, no more predictions, just statistics and results.  All the fans can do now is sit and watch what happens on the field.  Many predictions have been made over the last six months about the Kansas City Royals yet like everything else in life all the assumptions account for nothing just the results. All the excitement about the Royals in 2012 can continue with the team having a good productive start to the season or the excitement could taper off like seasons in the past.  Kansas City has not been this excited about their hometown team for a long time, the 1970s and 1980s to be exact.  But this time it is different.  This team wants to win not only for themselves but for the city itself.  Also, not only do they want to win but they want to do it here in Kansas City.  The future is still the future but the present is now and nothing feels greater than to have our team playing in our town right now.

In years past, the city has always been excited about the fact that baseball season has started but that was because they had another option for a night out on the town that started at Kauffman Stadium.  Now, fans have the excitement on the field drawing them in.  They are not just going for Garth Brooks in the sixth inning or hot dogs or over priced cold beverages. Now for the first time in years they are going to watch the likes of first basemen Eric Hosmer, 2011 Gold Glove winner Alex Gordon out in left field, a young gun pitching staff along with the whole cast of Royals.  The team is finally the attraction and they want nothing more than to be the talk of the town.  In years past teams that the Royals organization put out of the field were there to make their money and get on to the next thing.  But this time it is different.  Winning is now the only thing.  Not many people outside of Kansas City are truly giving this team a chance.  Reasons like they are young, they won’t spend the money needed to field a winner, they are breeding the next big New York Yankee or Oakland A, but that is exactly what some of the players on this team want the outside media to say.  The underdog mentality will fuel this young ball club to do what I believe to be great things not only in years to come but this season as well.

The clubhouse has never looked as tight nit as they do now.  This team of young guys who have grown up differently, gotten their shot in the Major Leagues in many ways, have come together to join as a team.  Talent only can get a team so far but if these guys can stick together and be the family that a team needs to be success will come.  All of this aside, what do we do now?  All we can do is sit, wait, and hope that the team the Royals are putting out on the field is what we all think it can be.  Royals teams of the past had their time but for now, like the season slogan states, this is the 2012 Royals time to shine.  And shine they will.

The following is a press release provided by the Omaha Stormchasers and reprinted here in its entirety.

Omaha Franchise to Welcome 12 Millionth Fan
Storm Chasers just 7,696 fans shy of monumental figure

OMAHA, Neb. — The Omaha Storm Chasers will greet the 12 millionth fan in franchise history when they pass through the Werner Park gates this weekend, the club announced Thursday. Through Wednesday, August 3, a total of 11,992,304 fans have attended 2,785 games since 1969 – just 7,696 fans shy of the 12 million mark.

The winning fan will be honored with a prize pack valued at more than $2,000, with all items prominently featuring the number 12. The lucky winner will receive two club season tickets for 2012 in section 112, a No. 12 Storm Chasers jersey, 12 autographed baseballs signed by 12 different members of the Storm Chasers, and an on-field recognition ceremony with manager Mike Jirschele (in his 12^th season as Omaha manager) and player Irving Falu (who wears number 12).

In addition, once the 12 millionth fan passes through the gates, the Storm Chasers will offer all fans the following deals:

• Club seats in section 112 will be $12 each for the remainder of the season, when purchased in advance online
• All fans will receive a 12 percent discount in the Storm Front gift shop during the 12 minutes following each Storm Chasers game
• Ovations Food Service at Werner Park will offer four small hot dogs and four small Pepsi fountain drinks for just $12

Tickets for all remaining regular season games are available at the Werner Park ticket office, by phone at (402) 738-5100 and online atwww.omahastormchasers.com. The Storm Chasers are home for each of the next seven days, from Thursday, August 4 through Wednesday, August 10.

The I-70 Series has arrived in 2011. The series that gave this site the name that you all have come to know and love (humor me) will find the first three game set this year being hosted by the boys in blue.

In honor of the upcoming series, I reached out to two of my favorite (though sometimes below the belt fighting) guys to give us their thoughts as to why their individual team will walk away with some bragging rights after this weekend. I then asked our guest’s counter part to provide some counter-point thoughts.

In this article, it is our friend Fake Ned Yost that will take the stage to tell you why the Royals will come out on top. The man behind CardsDiaspora.com, Aaron Hooks, provides the counter points.

Fake Ned Yost Says: I-70 is in pretty bad shape. If the Cardinals are coming by bus, they might lose the first game due to traffic and potholes. Forfeit.

Aaron Hooks Says: In St. Louis, we can afford planes. The dirt runways may cause a problem for fancy charter planes, but we’ll manage.

Fake Ned Yost Says: Here in Kansas City, we only put shingles on our roofs, not on our faces.

Aaron Hooks Says: Ironically, shingles on the faces might improve the looks of roughly 80% of Royals fans.

Fake Ned Yost Says: Too much red in the stands by Cardinals fans might confuse Cardinals outfielders and cause them to drop balls.

Aaron Hooks Says: Fans in the stands period would be confusing for KC.

Fake Ned Yost Says: In St. Louis, your mascot is an anorexic bird. In Kansas City, it’s a lion that shoots people in the face with hot dogs.

Aaron Hooks Says: Lion according to MLB. Meth trailer according to everyone else.

Fake Ned Yost Says: Andujar showed what a true Cardinal knows about composure in Game 7. We’ve got 800 rookies on this team like Hosmer, Duffy, Crow and Jeffress that are too stupid to know about “composure” and “stress” and “meaningful baseball.” In the game of baseball, stupid is key.

Aaron Hooks Says: I get that we don’t have much to work with on the KC side, so I’ll let this one slide.

Fake Ned Yost Says: On the off chance that St. Louie gets over on the Royals this weekend, we’ll be sure to make up for it when Pujols is wearing Royal Blue next year.
Advantage: Dreamers everywhere.

Aaron Hooks Says: Ha.

In July of 1967, the Cardinals’ pennant hopes were seemingly dashed when a line drive off the bat of Roberto Clemente smacked off Bob Gibson’s leg, breaking a small bone just below the kneecap. Gibby would be out of action for over two months, and the Cardinals had to rely on a young and unproven Nelson Briles to fill the void in the rotation. To the casual observer, the situation seemed hopeless; coming into the 1967 season, Briles had a career record of 7 wins and 18 losses; not exactly Gibson-esque type numbers, to say the least. While Cardinal Nation braced for the worst, all Briles did was go 14-5 with a sparkling 2.42 ERA, while subbing for the seemingly irreplaceable Gibson; and the Redbirds were on their way to a World Championship.

After all was said and done, the injury to the Cards’ pitching ace was clearly a blessing in disguise, not only allowing Briles to come into his own in the starting rotation, but allowing Gibson to rest that right arm of his, and come back stronger than ever; just in time for the World Series showdown with the Boston Red Sox. Gibson took care of three wins, while his young understudy, Nellie Briles, notched the other one; naturally.

Of course, the following season, a very fresh Bob Gibson tore through the National League’s opposing lineups effortlessly, on his way to 22 wins and an incredible 1.12 ERA. Thanks in large part to his dominance on the mound, the baseball hierarchy promptly decided to lower the mound a few inches the very next season, in an attempt to revitalize offensive production, to keep the fans happy; and most importantly, keep them coming to the games and drinking that beer and eating those hot dogs.

Interestingly enough, the Cardinals got lucky again; this time in 1982; when their young “phenom”, David Green, pulled a hamstring trying to leg out an infield hit during an early May encounter with the Braves at Busch Stadium. While the crowd groaned, the wheels had been set in motion to bring up rookie Willie McGee to fill in for the injured Green.

McGee, of course, did much more than “fill in” for the now expendable former “phenom”; by the start of the ’85 season, David Green had been dealt to San Francisco, along with a few other expendable players, for a guy known as “Jack the Ripper”; aka Jack Clark. Clark fit in nicely with his new team, leading the Cards to two World Series appearances in the three seasons he was with the team.

Ironically, it was an ankle injury Clark sustained in September of 1987, that hastened his departure from the team, following a dismal World Series defeat to the Homer Hanky Twins, where Clark was out of action (along with Terry Pendleton), and feared not quite healed for the following season. Exit “Jack the Ripper; enter “Bob the Blob” Horner; a guy way past his prime, and unable to hit with any power whatsoever. The Cardinals would begin a sustained stretch of dismal performance that would not end until 1996.

Backing up to 1985, the Cards began the season poorly, losing their first four games, and looking like a team heading nowhere; especially since their star centerfielder, Mr McGee, was himself banged up and forced to go on the disabled list for a while. That prompted the front office to bring up a young speedster named Vince Coleman, to “temporarily” fill the void created by the loss of McGee.

Vincent “Van Go” quickly became the catalyst to an offense geared towards scratching out runs; his 110 stolen bases paced the Redbirds’ offensive attack through the regular season, as the Cards finally slipped past the New York Mets to claim the division title.

The Cardinals’ postseason prospects suddenly seemed in jeopardy, however, as Coleman was somehow run over by a speeding tarp, clocked at one mile per hour; sending the game’s fastest player out of commission after three games of the NLDS against the Dodgers. The Cards survived Coleman’s loss in that series, but it may have spelled the difference as St Louis fell to Kansas City in heartbreaking fashion, in the World Series; in seven gut wrenching games.

During the Cardinals’ improbable championship season of 2006, the team was able to piece things together while injuries sidelined key players; most notably, Scott Rolen; which in turn, allowed Scott Speizio to heroically fill in at third base, and become a folk-hero in the process. As the oft-injured Rolen sulked, the team thrived without him, while manager Tony LaRussa decided Rolen was himself quite expendable, and sent him packing for Toronto – the equivalent of baseball “solitary confinement”; few expected Rolen to be the type of dominant player he was in his heyday with the Redbirds, and for a few seasons, he remained in oblivion; until this year.

Now, Scott Rolen is patrolling third base for the dreaded Cincinnati Reds, and has had a rare injury-free season; his offensive production has been stellar, to go along with his gold-glove type defensive play at third base. Clearly, when Scott Rolen is healthy, he is still a very fine ballplayer, and has found a “home” with the revitalized Reds; much to the dismay of TLR.

By contrast, the Cardinals’ third baseman, David Freese, who was a productive .296 hitter for the team through the end of June, has been lost for the season with a leg injury. Unlike other years, when the Cards were able to find replacements for fallen stars, this season has been a frustrating “merry go round” of largely unproductive third sackers; while the team consistently struggles to manufacture any sort of offensive threat beyond Pujols and Holliday. Losing Freese may have been downplayed at the time, but the team’s steady decline into a distant second place position can at least partly be attributed to losing Freese’s bat in the lineup.

The second part of the recipe for disaster has been the loss of Brad Penny; a solid starting pitcher who could even hit a bit. All those innings Penny was counted on to work for the Cards has been filled by journeymen pitchers who have trouble getting anybody out; especially in the late innings with the game on the line. Unfortunately for the Redbirds, the team had no “Nelson Briles” waiting in the wings to pick up the slack for the rotation; the trickle down effect has created a bullpen that has been a major disappointment since blowing that huge lead (8 runs?) in Colorado, in early July. To prove that was no fluke, they’ve accomplished similar results over this lackluster second half of play; allowing the Reds to take command of the race, while the Cards eat their dust. It’s a revolting development, to say the least.

Barring a total miracle finish, the Cardinals will face a bitterly disappointing off-season, while they try to regroup for next season. In the meatime, the front office must put together a multi-multi-million dollar contract to placate their greatest player since Stan Musial; Albert “Winnie the” Pujols. If they fail to placate Albert the Great, and he moves on to another team, this franchise will be in a total shambles. Imagine where the team would be this year without him; imagine that same scenario for the next decade or so.

Assuming Pujols stays right where he belongs, the task of rebuilding the team to its position among the National League’s elite, will be less daunting; assuming they can just stay healthy.

That is of course, a very big assumption; being “lucky” in any given year is a major requirement, even for teams that seem to have the clear advantage “on paper”; sound familiar?