It has been 10 years since we were all shocked to find out that Darryl Kile had passed away, in his sleep, in a hotel in Chicago.  The St. Louis Cardinals lost another member of the “family”, players lost a teammate, and the world lost an amazing man and father.

All of this is well documented and I do not feel I can bring more to the subject.  I admired him.  I enjoyed his career.  I mourned his loss.  I, much like other fans and pundits, have moved on.  Sooner or later you simply run out of words.

About a month ago, I was co-hosting a radio program on my network, pinch hitting for a host that could not make it.   The show featured former Cardinal reliever Dave Veres, a guy I had watched as I grew up and I was excited to interview.  Before the interview was over, the subject of Darryl Kile was raised, and I could tell there was a bond.

When the United Cardinal Bloggers decided that the June project this year should be to look back at Jack Buck and the man many of us now know as “DK57″, I was not sure what to write.  I sent a few emails and some requests but ultimately was denied or met the common “I’m not sure what more I can say”.  My email to Dave Veres, however, was answered kindly.

 I did reach out to former Cardinal beat reporter, Matthew Leach, for his thoughts.  He told me that he would be running them on his blog, but he did not have a “favorite memory” of Darryl Kile.  Leach has said many times that Kile was “hard to cover” and explained why.  He did come up with a memory, and you can read that story over at Obviously, You’re Not A Golfer.

I asked Veres two questions: 1 – what is your favorite memory, on or off the field, of Darryl Kile and 2 – What can you tell me about that fateful day ten years ago.  What I got back but funny, beautiful, inspiring and sad.

On his favorite memories of Darryl Kile, Dave Veres shared the following
As you have most likely heard about Darryl and his on the field accomplishments and how he was such a great teammate and competitor. My favorite memories of Darryl were more off the field since we spent more time in the winter together with our wives and kids being so close.

One was when we were in AAA with Tucson and I think we were playing Tacoma and we would go fishing in the mornings. So one morning we are out and being in the Northwest they had plenty of rain, so we were hiking back to get to a fishing hole and instead of going through a couple inches of water I decided to go across a muddy area instead because I didn’t want to get my shoes wet. Well, needless to say, what looked like a little bit of mud turned out to be about a 4 foot mud hole. I remember as I was sinking and was asking Darryl to help. He basically said “I’m not going in there”.  Luckily, for my sake, I finally hit the bottom. Then he held out his fishing pole for me to grab onto. Of course then it was funny and, needless to say, I went into the water anyway to rinse of the mud.

So, now we are in the big leagues and both live in Houston and Darryl and I would golf or play “mortal combat” and the wives would go shop or whatever. Of course it was only fitting that they were both pregnant at the same time, too. So on Jan 15th 1997 my wife and I are going to the dentist and I get a call from Darryl and he says he and Flynn are going to the hospital and wants me to go by the store and pick up a camcorder so they can record it. Nothing like going into your best friend’s wife’s room and setting up a video as she’s getting ready to give birth to twins. Thank goodness since it was twins and a high risk delivery there were plenty of doctors in there.  I could set up without having to “see” anything. Later that evening we are at home and my wife is feeling some labor pains, I think it’s just because she watched Flynn deliver. Well about 8 hours after their twins were born we had our daughter. And when Darryl signed with the Rockies the next year they traded for me a few weeks later and we all moved to Denver. So we spent nearly every Christmas and birthday’s together for the 4 years.

On June 22, 2002 – The day Darryl Kile was found in his hotel room
Well, I can say that morning may be the worst day I have ever been through. Since Darryl and I usually lockered by each other and he was always one of the first guys at the clubhouse, it was pretty clear when I arrived at the ball park he wasn’t there yet. So I tried calling him and, when I couldn’t reach him, I called my wife to go to his room and try and wake him up. I knew his brother came to town and just figured he over slept. So she banged on his door and there was no answer.  So she asked one of the maids to open the door since he was late for the game. Luckily for my wife’s sake he had the security latch on,otherwise she would have found him. But, that’s when we knew he was in his room. So they had to get security and I think they called the Cardinals and let them know something was up. As we were out at BP the clubhouse guys came and got me and said there was a “family emergency”.  It was my wife on the phone and told me that Darryl had passed away in his sleep. I didn’t know what to do or say,I just kind of went numb or in a daze. A little while later Tony came in with the team and that’s when they told everyone else.

Those next few days were so exhausting. The emotional drain on us, if anyone watched the game the next day against the cubs on ESPN it was like a bunch of zombies. I’m not really sure why they aired that game. I think being a father my first thoughts went out to Flynn and the kids,I couldn’t imagine them not having their father any longer.

I still think about him pretty much daily, usually a DK or 57 will pop up or a story will remind me of him. We ran into Flynn and the kids last year in Anaheim at a volleyball tournament that our girls were playing in. Even though we don’t talk as much it was still we hadn’t missed a beat when we saw them,except there was no Darryl in person.

We appreciate Dave sharing such personal stories with us.  After the stories, he included one quote that stuck with me:

He was truly one of the nicest and genuine people you could have ever had the privilege to know. Also one of the greatest competitors, I don’t think he missed a start in 10 years,so that why when Tony got us together and we realized that Sunday night game would have been Darryl’s start,we needed to play it in his honor.

Bill Ivie is the editor here at I-70 Baseball
He is the host of I-70 Radio, hosted every week on BlogTalkRadio.
Follow him on Twitter here.

A lot of great stories have been written this week in remembrance of ten years since the passing of Jack Buck and Darryl Kile. Here is my attempt to pay them homage and honor these two great men, as well as the 2002 St. Louis Cardinals that fought on bravely the rest of that season.

I like routines.

Baseball makes great fans of those who like routines. There is a game nearly everyday, and there is a beautiful order to things. Games will always have at least 27 outs, the visitors bat first followed by the home team, each player wears the same number each game, pitchers start every fifth game, and so on. You never have to go to the ballpark wondering how many innings will be played or if the first and third base lines will be 90 feet and chalked. There is a comfort in that routine.

In June of 2002, I was weeks away from turning 20 years old. I had just finished my second year of college. I have rooted passionately for the Cardinals since I can remember being alive. My father cheers for them, his father cheered for them, and his father cheered for the Birds on the Bat. I am a proud fourth generation Cardinals fan. But in the summers between 2000 and 2002, my love for both the team and the game of baseball deepened.

You see, those three summers were the years after my high school graduation and first two years of college. As friends moved to different cities, more and more small town summer nights (Rogersville, MO) turned to watching Cardinals games and less doing other things. I mentioned I liked routines, and I had a pretty good one down.

I had a great summer job, working for a small accounting firm in town that was just minutes from my house. Each morning when I arrived to work, the first thing I would do is write the score from the Cardinals game the night before, any interesting stats, the Cardinals record; then turn the page to the next day. Then at 11:30 on the dot, I would drive home to have lunch with my mom. She is a very kind soul, who would always have a hot meal ready, with a glass of tea, and that day’s sports page.

Even though it was 2002, I still hadn’t changed to reading box scores online. I preferred to do it the “old-fashioned way”, and read the daily newspaper. It was then that I would see where the Cardinals were in the standings based on the previous night’s contests, and pore over the box scores from each game.

Then I would head back to the office, chat briefly with my co-workers Jeff and Rodney about what I had read in those box scores, and get back to work. At 5 o’clock on the dot I left work and made the 15-minute drive to the Springfield Family Y to work out, and listen to SportsCenter while on the treadmill to prep for the upcoming night’s game. After the workout was done, I showered, and drove home to have dinner eaten and be ready to watch the Cardinal game.

I had quite the routine down.

As I have reflected this week on the events of June 2002, it makes me miss those days of being a fan. Don’t get me wrong, twitter and the internet has been a great tool for being a fan. The 24/7 news cycle had made information so readily available, and I feel connected to fans all over the world each night I watch a ball game.

But there was something beautiful about sitting down and watching a whole game start to finish, without reading one tweet or checking other box scores, or interacting with another human being online. Each game was its own story. Each game was an escape of sorts. Most nights, I would not even listen to the television broadcast. I would listen to Mike Shannon and Jack Buck while watching the game on the television. Of course, Buck was not able to call the games during the 2002 season because of his battle with Parkinson’s disease, but I still had the radio on during the games.

Listening to Jack Buck was a whole other escape in and of itself. He was the soundtrack of my childhood. Buck was the background noise for family get-together’s out on the farm. He accompanied me on my walkman radio while I mowed the yard on Sunday afternoon’s. He was on the radio beside my bed during West Coast games as a kid. He was on my radio during those fall nights riding the pep bus to high school football games. He was on in the dugout during baseball practices. He was always with me during summer car rides.

He was a part of my daily routine.

That all changed June 19, 2002.

When I heard the news of Buck’s passing, it was a milestone of sorts in my life. A milestone accompanied with great initial sadness. In a sense, it was saying goodbye to the baseball I knew as a boy, to the game I now follow as a man. Something purer was lost. Buck left us during the summer baseball almost had another strike. Nothing felt right. A hero had fallen.

The routine of fandom I loved so much felt all out of whack.

Then tragedy struck again a mere four days later. Another hero had fallen. A much younger hero with so much life ahead of him.

Cardinal Nation was still grieving  deeply from the loss of Buck when news of Darryl Kile’s tragic death was reported. I remember sitting at my kitchen table in utter disbelief. Unable to move or absorb what had just happened.

And yet somehow, the 2002 Cardinals showed the same resilience our nation did in the wake of 9/11, by playing great baseball the rest of the season. 57 wins (Kile’s number) the rest of the way, to be exact. The players talked of how the daily grind, and motivation to win for Buck and Kile, kept them going through that extremely tough period. LaRussa said it was his most challenging season as a manger. They were playing with incredible heart and grit to go win a World Series for their fallen heroes.

Not every story has a Hollywood ending. After sweeping the defending World Champion Arizona Diamondbacks in the NLDS, the Cardinals lost in five games to the San Fransisco Giants. It seemed the series ended before it ever really got started. There was utter disbelief and disappointment amongst the players. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

For me, I learned to adapt my routine as much I didn’t like life without Buck and Kile around. You have to change and adapt, and that’s not really the point of this story. The point of this story is how everything changed so quickly in just a week, but we have not quickly forgotten those men or that team.

Fox Sports Midwest had a video montage following the Game 5 loss to the Giants, to put a wrap on the 2002 season. It was a very fitting and touching tribute, that has stuck with me to this day. The video was filled with shots of Buck and Kile, and the heroic play of the Cardinals in the face of tragedy. The song chosen for the video was “Superman” by Five for Fighting.

To many, including myself, Superman was a pretty fitting term for Buck. And though he was only with the Cardinals a few short years, Kile was the man of steel the pitching staff relied upon to lead them.

It was a week that will not soon be forgotten. Two men that certainly never will be. And a team that battled bravely.

Nothing routine about any of that. Ten years later, we pause to remember just how deeply it touched us.

“I miss Jack Buck”.

Still to this day, those words are the one’s I feel define my writing.  An article I wrote for the now closed Baseball Digest site took that theme.  It was in Spring Training and I realized the game just did not sound the same.  That article, more than any other, has shown my heart and soul towards this game on every level.

 Read my thoughts on Jack from last year here on i70 as well as my original work for Baseball Digest on Going 9 Baseball’s site.  The original work, both the I Miss Jack Buck article and an interview with Christine Buck can be read by clicking the respective links.

This year marks the tenth anniversary of the day heaven gained a legendary announcer and we all lost a golden voice.  Last night, during my weekly Seamheads podcast, Gateway To Baseball Heaven, Daniel Shoptaw reminded me of the anniversary.  I reminded everyone just what that anniversary was.

For many people around the world, they lost a lot of things when Jack Buck passed away.  Most remember the war hero, the poet, the author and of course the announcer.  Fans around the nation and the world lost a storyteller that had very few parallels within his peers.

For myself and many others, there was something more.  We lost a friend.

I remember that day 10 years ago, when the news was announced that Jack had left us.  I remember, for the first time in my life, I wept over a baseball figure.

I grew up with this game.  I watched “my team” lose the 1985 and 1987 World Series.  I suffered through horrible stretches of players and games.  I watched as a new generation of legends took over the game.  I watched as players that were involved in the tales that Jack himself would spin were no longer around, having departed this world and the game and I was seemingly unphased.

I teared up when Ozzie retired.  It shook me to my roots when the Cardinals took the field days after the events of September 11, 2001.  I was emotional when I said goodbye to a man known by many as The Mayor Of The Bleachers, the first real friend that I had developed because of this game.  Never before, however, had I openly lost control of my emotions over someone that I had never personally spent any time with.

That was Jack.  Through the years of radio listening, television watching and bonding with my father over this game that grown men play, Jack was always there.  For countless months every summer, nights when I was supposed to be asleep, and days that were too hot to fathom, Jack Buck was my companion.

He was real.  You never got the impression that Jack was not genuine.  He wore his heart on his sleeve.  He was professional and forthcoming yet a fan at the same time.  He was the expert in the room and the guy sitting next to you at the bar at the same time.

Time heals all wounds.  We find new friends and we move on when there is loss.  The Cardinals will employ many different announcers in my lifetime alone.  The game will evolve and change and somewhere along the lines a new legend will assume the role behind the microphone.  I’m not sure it will ever change anything for me.

I still miss Jack Buck.

Bill Ivie is the editor here at I-70 Baseball
He is the host of I-70 Radio, hosted every week on BlogTalkRadio.
Follow him on Twitter here.

Friday night I was sitting in the bleachers at Busch Stadium watching the St. Louis Cardinals defeat the Texas Rangers in Game 7 of the 2011 World Series for their 11th championship in franchise history.

File that one under “Sentences I never thought I’d write in a million years.”

Going to a St. Louis Cardinals game is a special thing whether it’s Opening Day, some mid-July Sunday afternoon roaster, or a postseason game for the ages. The reason? All you have to do is look around, whether inside or outside Busch, and it becomes clear: A Tradition of Greatness. Outside you’re greeted by statues immortalizing the franchise’s—and some of Major League Baseball’s—all-time best. Stan Musial, Jack Buck, Bob Gibson, Lou Brock, Ozzie Smith, and others…they define professional baseball because of their accomplishments, and it all happened representing the St. Louis Cardinals. Even while cruising past the upper levels of Busch on Interstate 64/US 40, the biggest numbers visible from the road aren’t the ones on the speed limit sign or some billboard; they’re the World and League Championship years plastered on the side of the stadium. Inside, it’s more of the same: retired numbers and/or championship pennants catch every sight line.

All this entered my mind as I strolled through the gates in left center field before Game 7—and not just because it was what I saw. It was more like something I anticipated, or sensed almost in a gut feeling kind of way: another chapter in the extraordinary history of the St. Louis Cardinals was about to be written right before our eyes.

It isn’t unusual to run into random friends at a ballgame, but Game 7 isn’t just “a ballgame”–it’s the ballgame. Whether it’s a season ticket holder you see at almost every game or someone you knew from high school, the exchange is just a little more meaningful. The hugs were a little tighter; the handshakes were a little warmer. And the first thing said was usually something like “Can you believe we’re here?” with a smile that rivaled that of a kid on Christmas morning.

The game itself was somewhat pedestrian relative to everything that led up to it. The Rangers tacked on two runs in the first inning, and probably should have scored more. The Rangers fans that dotted the crowd were whipped into an early frenzy, and with good reason: the potential historical significance was not lost on them. Their team has never won a World Series, and they already had their initial taste of it in 2010. Chris Carpenter looked shaky, and Tony La Russa’s decision to start him on short rest was beginning to look even more questionable. If they could get some good pitching of their own and keep hammering away at an obviously off Carpenter, the pendulum could irreversibly swing their way for good. Maybe it was finally time for the Rangers to get a championship banner of their own after all these years, and beating the great St. Louis Cardinals would make it that much sweeter.

But the Cards responded in their half of the first when—who else—David Freese drove in two with yet another extra base hit. The crowd
went bonkers, of course, and in between shouts of joy and hops of excitement could be heard things like “I don’t believe this!” and “You’ve got to be kidding!” Even as it unfolded before our eyes, it still didn’t seem possible that the Cardinals were just this close to another World Championship. Really, how was it possible?

The Rangers pitched in on the answer to that question by not scoring another run in the game. To make matters worse, in the fifth inning they gave the Cardinals freebies by walking Yadier Molina with the bases loaded and then hitting Rafael Furcal with the sacks still jammed. It was quickly becoming a night where nothing went right for Texas and everything was going the Cardinals’ way. Carpenter finally found the right gear and was able to hold the Rangers scoreless for five more innings after the rough first. Allen Craig continued to make a statement by hitting a homer in the third and taking one away by catching a long fly at the top of the wall in the sixth.

After that remarkable play, countdowns started. Nine more outs to get. And every time the Rangers came up empty in their half of an inning, the fingers at the end of extended hands started folding. Eight outs to go…seven…six…it was like an extended version of waiting for the big ball to drop over Times Square on New Year’s Eve. The comparisons to holidays are extremely accurate, because this was a holiday. This was the greatest St. Louis holiday, and the crowd finally started to feel like it was an approaching freight train that couldn’t be stopped.

Before I knew it, the beats of “Lose Yourself” by Eminem were pulsating through the stadium. Jason Motte was coming in to close out Game 7 of the 2011 World Series. At that moment, it became real. We were three outs from fireworks and confetti and bedlam. The legend, that magic many of us had only seen on TV or in replays or imagined in our dreams, was finally set to go down right before our eyes.

Everything that the Cardinals accomplished in 2011 came from a place of adversity. Their ace, Adam Wainwright, was ripped from their roster before they could barely get settled in their Spring Training routines. Their closer, Ryan Franklin, imploded on Opening Day and never fully recovered, finally being released because he couldn’t live up to the value of his spot on the team. Injuries piled up. Intrigue around the contract status of Carpenter and La Russa and, most glaringly, Albert Pujols simply would not go away. The Cards managed to play well enough to lead the NL Central for a good portion of the year, but everything seemed to catch up to them at once and they found themselves out of the race. And then something happened in late August that sent this club on an irreversible trend upward. No matter how many times the bad rared up, the good beat it back. This final night of the season would be no different.

The final outs of Game 7 would not be cakewalks: ALCS hero Nelson Cruz and World Series hero Mike Napoli were due up for the
Rangers, representing two of their team’s last chances in the final frame. But they were dispatched in short order by the Cardinal defense. There was one final out separating the Cards from victory. And for one last time, in the ninth inning of Game 7 of the World Series, the Cardinals and their fans had to hold their breath as the bad—a pretty well-struck David Murphy fly ball toward the left field corner—was once again beat back by the good in the form of Craig hauling it in to conclude what was a series and a season for the ages. And, true to the cliché, the crowd went wild.

History tells us the St. Louis Cardinals are likely to win another World Series in seven games at home. On the surface, this 2011 championship wasn’t unique to the franchise because they aren’t strangers to World Series that go the distance and end in St. Louis. But none of the previous 10 championships were won with such incredible odds staring the team down for so long. It felt like they were on the brink of elimination every day of the last nine weeks or so. That’s a lot of drama, a lot of emotion, and a lot of exhilaration. Because this St. Louis Cardinals team made plenty of mistakes along the way, but in the end they they simply would not die. They fought until the bitter end, and when the smoke cleared they found themselves on top of the baseball world once again.

It’s hard to put into words what attending Game 7 of the World Series as a fan really means. Terms like “great” and “amazing” and “unbelievable” don’t really seem to do the night justice. The event really was better than the game itself. But when a World Series championship is at stake, that’s almost a given. Regardless, it truly was the greatest night of baseball I’ve ever witnessed. And it is something I will never forget.

Chris Reed also writes for InsideSTL Mondays and Bird Brained whenever he feels like it. Follow him on Twitter at @birdbrained.

The St. Louis Cardinals find themselves one win from their 18th World Series appearance after beating the Milwaukee Brewers 7-1 Friday night to take a three games to two lead in the NLCS. The Cards got timely hits, capitalized on numerous Milwaukee mistakes, and turned in another stellar bullpen performance in the last NLCS game at Busch Stadium for 2011.

It is interesting to note that three times in the last three weeks, the Cardinals have played a home game that could have turned out to be the final game at Busch for the year. Each could also have been the final home game for Albert Pujols and/or Tony LaRussa (among others) as a Cardinal. Yet they have won each of these games, and eventually clinched some type of victory that allows this 2011 season to continue on to the next level. And they have to do it once again.

Maybe it was a nod from the baseball gods that the Cardinals won. October 14th is the anniversary of another pivotal Game 5: the 1985 NLCS. And with Ozzie Smith in the house to throw out he first pitch while Jack Buck’s golden voice set the scene over the video replay from 26 years ago, it really felt like there was no way the Cardinals could lose this game. The difference in this year’s Game 5, of course, was the absence of the heart-stopping, dramatic ending. But a win is a win, and the most unenviable position imaginable would be having to go win two games in a row in Milwaukee in order to win the series. Instead, the Cards enjoy one more “Happy Flight” that hopefully isn’t their last.

That’s not to say the Cards have no shot at winning at Miller Park. Obviously they’ve already won one game there this series and they won several there during the regular season. If nothing drastic happens, the Cardinals definitely have the better starting pitcher going in Game 6 (Edwin Jackson over Shawn Marcum) and at the very least carry a slight advantage for Game 7 (Chris Carpenter over Yovani Gallardo). And with momentum on their side, the Cards have to be the favorites—if only by a hair—to win this thing and move on to the World Series.

Had the Cardinals not given up the lead in Game 4, all the discussion about games in Milwaukee would be moot; they would have wrapped up the series Friday. But it was the Brewers who played themselves out of the game this time. They committed four errors, their pitching wasn’t very good, and they came up empty in clutch situations. As a result, their backs are against the wall for however long this series lasts.

And now, the NLCS shifts back to Milwaukee. Maybe the Cards can wrap this thing up Sunday and give everyone all the rest they need back home before the World Series starts up in St. Louis. Maybe we’ll see a go-ahead bomb from Pujols while Nyjer Morgan watches it fly over his head then throws his glove down in disgust.

Regardless, Game 5 was just another must-win game for the St. Louis Cardinals. They’re probably getting pretty used to them these days, considering every game has been a must-win since the end of August. And that’s how they should view Game 6 as well.

Cardinals Announce Plans For September 11th Tribute
Special Ceremonies Planned Before & During Game to Commemorate 10th Anniversary

ST. LOUIS, MO September 9, 2011 – This Sunday, the St. Louis Cardinals with join with Major League Baseball and all teams to observe a National Day of Service and Remembrance to commemorate the 10th Anniversary of September 11, 2001.

Ten years ago, in the wake of worst terrorist attacks in American history, the Major League Baseball family came together to help the nation heal, rebuild and unite, vowing that “We shall not forget.” On Sunday, the Cardinals will renew this promise while paying tribute to all emergency first responders and honoring those lost in the attacks.

More than 5,500 St. Louis area first responders will be in attendance as guests of the Cardinals as the team distributed free tickets to recognize the sacrifice and service of all police, fire and emergency medical technicians as emergency first responders. The team will pay tribute to these men and women during both the pre-game ceremony, as well as during the game.

The pre-game ceremony will start at 1:00 p.m. with a replaying “For America,” the patriotic poem by Jack Buck that was read by the former Cardinals Broadcaster prior to the game the first night that Major League Baseball resumed after the attacks. The pre-game ceremony will also include leaders representing local first responder agencies, as well as Angela Brock-Bokern, a St. Louis native who survived the World Trade Center attacks in New York City. Brock-Bokern will throw a ceremonial first pitch to Cardinals First-Baseman Albert Pujols, the 2001 National League Rookie of the Year and only remaining player on the current roster from the 2001 team.

It was 1985 when I moved to Missouri. A magical season that captured my attention. Two teams from my new home state would reach the pinnacle of the game I loved.

Until that year, I was a baseball fan. I had liked various teams in my youth and followed others closely, even at my young age. I had baseball cards and favorite players. I played ball in my back yard imaging what it must be like to be on that field. I envisioned larger than life men playing that game along side of me. That year changed the way I saw the game. That year I became a consistent observer of the Royals and adopted them as my “step-team”. That year, I became a Cardinal fan.

I have been asked many times why I became a fan of this team? Why I write about this game? Why I do so many radio appearances and host my own show? All of those answers are remarkably answered with the same two words.

Jack Buck.

It was Jack that taught me how to see this game the right way. His voice over the airwaves, the smooth transition from play to interview and back again. The genuine excitement in his voice over the game he loved. I loved the game beyond belief but when I heard the voice of Jack Buck and the way he described the simple action before him, it became magical. It took on a trait that I never knew was possible. A ground ball to deep short was seemingly fielded in left field and would manage to appear in the first baseman’s glove before the runner could reach safely. Home runs were majestic moon shots that would all but disappear in the night sky. Line drives must have had fire coming off of them. The players themselves floated around the field.

While the game seemed full of magic as I got lost in his voice, the images in my mind were so real I could imagine sitting in the stands. The magical description translated into my mind into a film reel of exact science. I could picture right where Ozzie stood on the field when he unleashed a throw that most shortstops would never attempt and still get his man. I could picture the seat a home run landed in and how much beer was left in the cup being held by the guy who caught it.

Jack Buck began his career in St. Louis in 1954 along side Harry Carray after graduating from Ohio State. Prior to college, Buck was a decorated war veteran of World War II. His fifteen years with Harry Carray would become the launching pad of two hall of fame caliber careers and endless memories for a generation of baseball fans who relied on the radio to bring them their beloved game of baseball.

In the 1960′s Buck had left for a year to broadcast football but would return and continue his work for the mighty KMOX out of St. Louis. He would also miss a year in the 1970′s as he tried to launch his own show on CBS. Ultimately, it was his pairing with former Cardinals outfielder Mike Shannon in the 70′s that would lead to the team that many remember vividly.

While Jack called World Series (8), Super Bowls (17), and various other sports broadcasts, it was his calls of Kirk Gibson’s home run in the 1988 World Series and Ozzie Smith’s 1985 NLCS home run that are most remembered. Perhaps it was the magestic voice that told us after 34 years in the booth that he “can’t believe what I just saw” for Gibson. Maybe it was the 31 year veteran of the booth that showed that he too was a fan when Ozzie launched a home run into right field and all the golden voice could say was “Go crazy folks! Go crazy!”. He would again show that he respected, loved and was a fan of the game when Mark McGwire broke the single season home run record when he simply asked the audience “Pardon me while I stand and applaud.”

For many of us Cardinal fans, Jack is the voice in the background of our memories. He is the announcer in our memories of the team. He was the reason we took small radios to the baseball game. Personally, I fell asleep to the sound of Jack describing the game far more times than I fell asleep to a bed time story or reading a book. My father loved the game and he taught me to love it too. My father drew the picture, Jack filled it with enough color to last a lifetime.

In the early 2000′s it became public knowledge that Jack was suffering from Parkinson’s disease. It would keep him off the road and limit the number of games fans would hear him. It would turn him, physically, into a shell of the man he once was. When baseball returned to action after the horrific events of September 11, 2001, he stood on the field and delivered a poem that left very few dry eyes in the crowd. Very few people knew what to make of it. The sound of his voice saying “Should we be here? YES!” was a resounding call to all of America.

It was nine years ago today, June 18, 2002 that the world lost Jack Buck. The majestic voice was gone. The booth in St. Louis would find a new inhabitant soon. No one would ever compare. No one could even try.

In one of my first articles I wrote for Baseball Digest I wrote the phrase “I miss Jack Buck”. That phrase is as true today as it was then. Last year I had the privelage of visitng with his daughter, Christine, and you can read that here.

The game simply doesn’t sound the same anymore.

Bill Ivie is the editor here at I-70 Baseball as well as the Assignment Editor for BaseballDigest.com.
He is the host of I-70 Radio, hosted every week on BlogTalkRadio.com.
Follow him on Twitter here.

This time of year, you would be hard-pressed to find me as close to obsessed with any other external factors as I am with baseball. But one thing ranks right up there—tied for first, some might say—on holding my attention, and that is music. It is especially true on this day…Record Store Day. And while music and records are not often talked about on this or any baseball blog, I can very specifically connect my audiophile and baseball-obsessed personas through the 1982 St. Louis Cardinals.

The early 80s were a much simpler time. Video—the tape kind, not digital—was still relatively new technology, computers were for either the super rich or the super nerdy, and the news was delivered to you on a thing called paper, using real ink. Remember when you watched Back to the Future Part II, when Marty McFly got razzed by kids when he had to “use his hands” to play the video game in the 80s café? Well that essentially takes place now…and the stuff we had in the 80s is just as archaic as it was portrayed in that movie (seriously, go back and watch that movie…those writers were scary close on a lot of things). And although CD technology was around, records and cassettes were still the dominant home audio media.

The baseball experience was different, too. Not as many games were televised back then, because pay television was still relatively new; virtually no sports were broadcast on cable or satellite TV. So watching the game meant watching the network or an independent local station like KPLR. The main outlet for experiencing baseball as it happened from the comfort of home was to listen to the radio. St. Louis Cardinals fans were just about the most spoiled in all of baseball in the 80s. Not only did they get to root for one of the dominant teams of the decade as Whiteyball peaked at Busch Stadium, but they had Jack Buck and Mike Shannon to tell them all about it every night. Imagine listening to Buck describe the defense of Ozzie Smith, the fire of Joaquin Andujar, the speed of Willie McGee, and the dominance of Bruce Sutter every night. Throw in the folksy charm of, by then, seasoned broadcaster Shannon and it was like listening to baseball poetry flow through the walnut-enclosed speakers.

And that is where records come in, one in particular. I had just turned five years old when the Cards won it all in 1982 so I really lacked the appreciation that event deserved at the time. I know I watched the win from my grandmother’s house in Cahokia, IL, because my uncle drove the five minutes or so to Busch Stadium during Game 7 to get me a souvenir. I have no memory of any of this, but it’s a nice story to hear once in a while at Thanksgiving. And remember, this was the 80s. Buying the DVD collection of each game broadcast as a keepsake was not an option. No, in those days, if you wanted to relive an event like this, you bought a record album. And the Cardinals released “Busch Beer Presents: Celebration” to commemorate the win. My dad bought a copy, and I loved listening to dad’s records as a kid.

“Celebration” is a full-length album, narrated by Buck, containing radio broadcast highlights from the regular season on side one and NLCS and World Series highlights on side two. It is truly the soundtrack to my introduction to Cardinal Baseball and all that was great about it in the 80s.

First and foremost, Buck’s narration is superb. It’s kind of like listening to your grandpa read you your favorite bedtime story. And the highlights are gem after gem of broadcast excellence, too. Maybe I have just listened to the album so many times the words are burned into my brain like Bible stories from Catholic School or the lyrics to my favorite songs. But I can hear the inflections and excitement in my head just thinking about the recording. “Not many picked the Cardinals to win it all in 1982,” states Buck to start the album on side one. And the end of side two, of course, culminates with a line nearly every Cardinals fan knows by heart: “Sutter from the belt, to the plate…a swing and a miss! And that’s a winner! That’s a winner! A World Series winner for the Cardinals!”

My dad also has the record from the Cardinals’ 1967 championship season. Historically, that one is just as significant for those that want to hear what it was like to have both Buck and Harry Caray at the mic for the Cards. But that didn’t really interest me as a kid; all of it happened too long ago (though I appreciate it much more now). “Celebration” was full of players and broadcasters I knew and loved, even if I didn’t quite remember the events when they first happened. It was a regular in the rotation when I was allowed control of the turntable.

The album is long out of print, I’m sure. I doubt it was ever released on CD, and I have yet to find it on iTunes. Occasionally, I stumble across the LP at the flea market or a yard sale. So “Celebration” truly is one of those rare pieces of Cardinals history that I love knowing so well. But while I wake up early to buy more records at local indie stores, you can rest easy knowing modern technology has not totally let us down.

There are six parts in total. Happy Record Store Day, and Go Cards.

Chris Reed is a freelance writer who also appears on InsideSTL Mondays and Bird Brained whenever he wants. Follow him on Twitter @birdbrained

Had his life spanned a more recent era of Cardinals baseball, Jack Buck’s Hall of Fame speech might’ve included his gratefulness for the arm of Chris Carpenter or Adam Wainwright, and he probably would have touted the bat of Albert Pujols. But I think there’s little doubt that he’d have been thankful for the glove of Jim Edmonds.

Edmonds’ 8 years as a Cardinal provided fans with almost nightly amazement!

I grew up watching Cardinals baseball in the 1980’s, and in doing so developed a love for defense at a very young age. You don’t spend your childhood watching Ozzie Smith win 13 straight gold glove awards and not take notice as to how important solid defensive skills are. Edmonds brought back to the forefront an important piece of the game that, much like bunting for a hit, seems to have faded in recent years: He brought back a focus on defensive excellence.

“80% of the earth’s surface is covered by water, the other 20% is covered by Jim Edmonds.”

That’s one of my favorite sayings, and I grin every time I hear it, because it truly seemed that way–a ball hit into the air & anywhere near centerfield was far from safe. And if you’re thinking of hitting a HR over the 400’ sign on the CF wall, you’d better hit the ball at least 408’, or there’s a good chance Jimmy’s bringing it back! I can recall twice seeing a player on television mouth “Oh my gosh!”. My favorite was Pettitte’s (obviously), but Edmonds did it too…after he amazed even himself by robbing a homerun (in, I believe, Cincinnati). Watching Edmonds made me truly appreciate the Endy Chavez catch–the finest catch I have ever seen…and that coming from a guy who watched Jim Edmonds play every day.

Eight gold glove awards, two top-five finishes in MVP voting, four All-Star appearances, one big game six homerun, and countless catches that left many-a-jaw on St. Louis area floors over the years are just a few of the ways we’ll remember “Jimmy Ballgame”. A member of the “MV3”, Edmonds was no slouch at the plate & could handle the lumber with the best of them. A beautiful left-handed swing, comparable to Griffey Jr, and that famous upper-cut made Edmonds’ stance & swing recognizable to millions.

Oct 20, 2004: Edmonds’ 12th inning HR forces game 7

Towards the end of his career, he bounced around the National League Central division, spending time with the Brewers, Cubs & Reds after he left the Cards & headed to San Diego. If not for “the catch”, it’s possible that some may even forget that Edmonds actually spent seven years in the American League West as an Angel (‘93-’99). But he will be remembered by most for his years in St. Louis as the Cardinals’ centerfielder, and I suspect there would be little question as to which team logo he’d choose to wear on his cap, should he one day enter Cooperstown (a conversation for another time).

For different reasons than his former teammates, Aaron Miles & Scott Spiezio, when Jim Edmonds took the mound this past Thursday, it was for a ceremonial pitch–the first pitch of the 2011 season. He was very well-received by the fans at Busch that afternoon, and I suspect he’ll always be welcomed & appreciated in Cardinal Nation.

Thank you, Jim Edmonds for the memories, the highlights, and for keeping the flame of exciting & superb defense alive for another generation of Cardinals fans!

During the offseason we have been taking a look at the past, giving readers a timeline of St. Louis baseball throughout history. Last time we learned about “Cha-Cha” Cepeda and the El Birdos, Gibson’s incredible pitching which led to consecutive pennants in 1967 and 1968, before Gussie Busch demoralized the team in 1969 and caused them to stumble. Would their volatile owner hold them back?

Moral was low, emotions were high, and the Cardinals that were so good two years in a row had been cut down to fourth place in 1969. Red Schoendienst was trying to hold the team together, but then the team lost their voice. After twenty-four years in the Cardinals’ broadcast booth, Harry Caray was fired and bounced to the Oakland A’s, Chicago White Sox, and finally Chicago Cubs, where he stayed until his death in 1998. Fortunately for Cardinal fans, Jack Buck stepped in to become the voice of the franchise, and no one can argue that this was a poor choice in broadcasters!

1970 brought newcomer Dick Allen, who came as part of the infamous Curt Flood trade with the Philadelphia Phillies. Players shifted around the diamond to accommodate the slugging first baseman, with Joe Torre moving from first to catcher and replacing Tim McCarver, who had been sent to Philadelphia in the same trade. He and Torre were really the only players who could be considered sluggers on the team, as they hit 55 of the 113 team home runs on the year.

Thank goodness for Bob Gibson, as he was literally the only pitcher on the staff with a winning percentage over .500, checking in at .767 with a 23-7 record and 3.12 ERA. The team as a whole could not get it together, and sat twelve and a half games back on July 29. August, however, brought an inexplicable hot streak, as the team went 19-11 and suddenly sat just five and a half back on the morning of September 1! Stranger things had happened before…

…but not this time. Dick Allen tore a hamstring sliding into second base, and the slide extended to the team, as they finished September/October at 12-17, which left them 76-86, thirteen games back of the Pittsburgh Pirates for the NL East division crown.

Joe Torre

1971’s high points must include Joe Torre and Steve Carlton at the top of the list. Torre captured the MVP award, hitting a torrid .363/.421/.555 while making another jump in field positioning, this time to third base. Carlton showed another glimpse of what was to come, going 20-9 with a 3.56 ERA, all while picking up his third All-Star selection in his age 27 season.

The Cardinals as a whole were a contender, although the 90-72 record looks almost falsified on paper when looking at the numbers. There were no real sluggers on the team outside of Torre, who slammed 24. They were small ball players who slapped out singles and relied on stringing them together to get players home. Lou Brock swiped 64 bases, but the next highest total on the team was right fielder Jose Cardenal, who nabbed a mere 12. To be perfectly honest, this team does not look like one that should have finished second in the division, but stranger things have happened.

A fun tidbit? 1971 was the year that the team switched from button up uniforms to the t-shirt style tops that they would use until 1992.

Sparks flew in the offseason when contract negotiations with Steve Carlton became ugly. There was a $10,000 gap between Gussie Busch’s offer and Carlton’s demands, and Busch, citing a government-mandate that people try to cost-control wages, informed his star pitcher that he was being “unpatriotic.” Busch turned to general manager Bing Devine to trade Carlton away, and Devine, knowing it was trade the man or collect unemployment himself, sent Carlton to Philadelphia for fellow pitcher Rick Wise. A second casualty to the rotation came when Gussie Busch looked at big lefthander Jerry Reuss and demanded that he cut off his mustache. Reuss refused. See ya later. Reuss was sent off to Houston for pitcher Scipio Spinks. Spinks could have been something, but after hurting himself sliding across the plate his star faded quickly.

Because of that, the Cardinals took a rather large dip in 1972. While Bob Gibson would have perhaps his last great season (a 19-11 record with a 2.46 ERA), the pitcher brought in to replace Carlton – Wise – would go 16-16, and fellow youngster Reggie Cleveland went 14-15. Hard to replace a twenty game winner with guys floating around the .500 mark. But Busch was not about to let a young gun tell him what to do, so he let a Hall of Famer go over $10,000.

The lineup in 1972 was all or nothing. Half of the starting eight were hitting roughly .300 or better, and the other half were kind of floundering, with light hitting shortstop Dal Maxvill hitting an anemic .221/.299/.261. Want to know how to have a lower slugging percentage than on-base percentage? Ask Maxvill – he did it every single year of his fourteen year career. Singles please!

After perhaps overperforming in 1971, the team dipped back down to fourth in the NL East in 1972, rounding out with a 75-81 record.

1973 was a ridiculous roller coaster of a year for the team. After a beyond abysmal 3-15 record in April, the team found themselves already eleven and a half games back by May 15! They then turned on the jets, going 53-33 over the course of the next three months. By August 7, the Cardinals were 5 games up on the Amazin’ Mets. Of course, they then dropped eight straight games and tumbled down to second. The Mets were amazing for a reason. They hung around the .500 mark most of the year, then turned on the jets in the final month of the season, going 20-8 and taking the NL East crown by a mere one and a half games over the Cardinals.

What happened? The team’s pitching staff could go toe-to-toe with anyone in the league and come out victorious, but then their heart and soul – Bob Gibson – went down with torn cartilage in his knee, and the team folded, losing 29 of their last 47 games. An 81-81 record felt like a slap in the face to a team that had battled back from such a terrible start. They lost one run game after one run game, never having the hitter in place to knock in all the baserunners. It was frustrating to say the least.

1974 was a year for some of the younger players on the team to really get their feet wet. 24 year old pitchers Bob Forsch and Al Hrabosky were rising to the surface. Catcher Ted Simmons was only 24, but he was already going into his seventh season (fifth full season) by this time, and had already established himself as perennial .300 hitter with a decent arm behind the plate. Two more players – Bake McBride and Reggie Smith – joined the team to add both pop in the lineup and speed on the bases.

Lou Brock

Speed was one thing this team had plenty of. Lou Brock, at age 35, went absolutely crazy on the basepaths, burning up the bases like they were going to evaporate. His 118 stolen bases stood as a record until 1982, when Rickey Henderson surpassed him. McBride had 30 thefts of his own, but the team finally had a little bit of power too. Smith and Simmons both turned in 20+ home run seasons, and RBI totals were climbing out of the 50’s into a more reasonable range. The pitchers finally felt like they could give up more than one or two runs and still have a chance to win.

The team battled back and forth with the Pittsburgh Pirates all season long for the division crown. Willie Stargell led a team that could beat you eight different ways, and found ways to win late in the game constantly. It went down to the final series of the season, with the Cardinals up in Montreal facing the Expos. A freak pop-up that no one called cost the team a game. Pittsburgh lost their last game of the season, and if the Cardinals won, it would push them into a tie, and send them to Pittsburgh for a one game playoff. Unfortunately, the team was playing in 36 degree weather with sleet coming down. Gibson tried to grit out a win, but an eighth inning pitch to Expo Mike Jorgensen found the bleachers, and the Cardinals in turn found their couches to watch the playoffs on TV.

Mediocrity is maddening, but losing on the last day of the season is a wound that does not heal overnight.

Angela Weinhold covers the Cardinals for i70baseball.com and writes at Cardinal Diamond Diaries. You may follow her on Twitter here or follow Cardinal Diamond Diaries here.