it was not a good game
In the throbbing, sweat-soaked bowels of Busch Stadium, a spectacle of Americana was unfolding. Not the neatly packaged, homogenized version beamed into suburban living rooms, but a raw, unvarnished glimpse into the collective consciousness of a nation teetering on the edge of sanity. The scent of stale beer hung thick in the air, a cloying sweetness mingling with the faint tang of fear and desperation emanating from the Cardinals’ dugout. The crowd, a writhing, amorphous beast, roared and groaned, a cacophony of sound that vibrated deep in your bones, a visceral reminder of the thin line between fervent passion and outright savagery. The atmosphere in Busch Stadium was thick with the scent of cheap beer, sweat, and anticipation. This was the second game in a series between the St. Louis Cardinals and the Miami Marlins during some of the most humid weather one can comprehend in the midwest.
The game, what should have been a clash between the St Louis Cardinals and the Miami Marlins, felt less like a sporting event and more like a descent into some dark, forgotten corner of the human psyche. The air shimmered with an almost palpable tension, a sense of impending doom that permeated every fiber of your being. You could almost taste the existential dread, a bitter, metallic flavor on your tongue. This was not a game to be passively observed, but an experience to be felt, to be absorbed, to be swallowed whole. That is, it swallowed all of your hopes for a big baseball season comeback. It sealed the deal on the Cardinals largely being sellers, or at the least, signified that what was was at an end, and what was about to come, being the unknown. But change was in the air, as the stagnancy of a .500 boiling stew could no longer be endured.
The Cardinals had won the previous night with a score of 7-1. However, this game had an entirely different atmosphere. An atmosphere of utmost dread. Anyone enduring the stands could be described as visiting hell and coming back with an existential trauma. Marlins’ starting pitcher Sandy Alcantara, with a 6.66 ERA, took the mound. Across from him stood the Cardinals’ ace, Sonny Gray, with a 10-4 record.
The game began with a deceptive calm. But Sonny Gray gave up 3 runs, and the bullpen could not stymie the Marlins offense, which scored two more runs on Steven Matz. You think you can rely on two of your best veteran pitchers, but nope. Not tonight. And the offense, I cannot tell if it is good, or if it just sucks. Depends on the night. When the offense gets shut down this much, it has to be a lefty, right? No. Sandy Alcantara is a right handed pitcher who pitched like when he was actually good. Thanks Sandy.
The Cardinals players seemed to move in a dreamlike haze, their movements fluid yet strangely disconnected, striving for meaning. The crack of the bat, a sound that should have been a clarion call of hope, instead echoed like a death knell into the humid night soup surround anyone outside. The crowd, a mass of humanity driven by some primal urge, morphed into a surreal tapestry of distorted faces and frantic gestures, a chilling testament to the madness that lurked just beneath the surface of the civilized world.
The stadium lights, blazing with an almost unnerving intensity, cast long, shifting shadows across the field, transforming the familiar green expanse into a swirling vortex of uncertainty. The smell of double steamed hot dogs and stale popcorn, usually a comforting aroma, now seemed to twist into something vaguely unsettling, a reminder of the fleeting pleasures that often mask a deeper, more profound unease. This wasn’t merely a baseball game; it was a psychological battlefield, a brutal, unyielding struggle against the insidious forces of despair and the relentless advance of the impending abyss. The only thing left to do, it seemed, was to hold on tight, brace yourself for the inevitable collapse, and document the madness as it unfolded, for the sake of the next generation of bewildered spectators.
Will the Cardinals be able to stabilize and win the series tomorrow night in this vapor of madness and deceit that is summer in St Louis? Or will they be primarily distracted by the mystery of the Trade Deadline? It is anyone’s guess… The Cardinals team seems to be falling on its own sword, awaiting who will remain after the process of win lose win lose win lose, the yin and the yang of a squad that is treading water in mid air.
Notes
- Alec Burleson -.163 WPA, 0-3 while batting third
- Cardinals offense collected more walks than hits! 5-4
- offense struck out 10 times
- Marlins offense had 12 hits and 1 walk while striking out 5 times
- This game was a real stinker, very boring
- Series finale is another night game starting at 6:45pm