Contrary to the IM's speculation, Ludwick spared the streets of STL a weeping Southandish. As happy as I was it gave us a win, I was even happier it gave us an excuse to get Mrs. Southlandish home. She happily signs up for nine innings. After that she gets even crankier than a Mr. Southlandish who is watching Izzy meltdown two innings after beer sales have ended.*
The Goat and I realized that of the dozen or so games we have seen Pujols play live, this was his first homer. Damn, I just realized that I have seen him play at Fenway, Joe Robbie, Wrigley, Old Busch and New Busch. I am getting old.
The ride home on Tuesday was better than this afternoon. On the way down the Goat predicted one run on three hits and was only one shy on the latter. Thankfully, everything else about the day was stellar.
*advice to InBev: you want to win over St. Louis? Negotiate beer sales through the end of the game. Or at least full until 10:00. I'm not saying that I had a vendor shut me off at 9:58, thus forcing me to sprint across the deck to another more liberal vendor who brought me in with eyes that were like orange flourescent beams to a jet and upon arrival said, "It's 9:59. You're my last customer of the evening. What can I get you?" Rather, that those with a more anarchist, socially libertarian bent might appreciate it...
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