This week, Busch Stadium features the crown jewel of NL Central
match-ups. Our Cardinals greatest adversary the Cubs, are in town.
As so frequently has not been the case, the small bears are joining
us in competition for the league title, making for a huge late
summer series. Yes, these games are of great importance; but even
when they fail to be, Cardinals versus Cubs always stir the flames
of a potentially mighty skirmish.

All baseball rivalries have their origins. The Yanks stole Babe
Ruth from the Red Sox and left them with a curse.

The Giants and Dodgers were cross-town, now coastline, foes in
California. So what’s behind the Cardinals-Cubs grudge match? Sure,
there is the close proximity; but it really comes down to a good
old case of Midwest inferiority complexes.

To be fair, we’ll start with the hometown, St. Louis. We love to
think of ourselves as an avant garde metropolitan: the furthest
west, east coast city. It is a great town, with character, where
many people love to live. Unfortunately, we are no Chicago.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d never want to live in Chicago with all
of those union troubles, not to mention the surplus of Femme
Fatales slaughtering their husbands and lovers in a city-wide
epidemic, documented in last year’s Best Picture winning film.
Scary Stuff.

Still, I will admit when we’re beaten. Yes, St. Louis has its
art museum; but there’s no Sunday on Le Grande Jatte or Nighthawks
gracing its walls.

We’ve have our penguins at the zoo; but no Chicago John G Shedd
Aquarium. There is the rich St. Louis blues and jazz tradition;
yet, we have no Frank Sinatra song about us or any swooning Peter
Cetera. There’s the Loop and Central West End, no Michigan Avenue.
As hard as it can be to admit, Chicago can match or beat just about
any of the St. Louis aesthetics.

There does remain, however, one thing St. Louis will always have
over Chi-town, one red beacon in the form of a bird: the Cardinals.
No one has to tell Chicago fans that the Redbirds have nine World
Series rings compared to the Cubs’ ninety-five years old one.

They all know the loveable Harry Carey left St. Louis so the
spotlight could shine solely on our regal Jack Buck.

Their fans can never forget how we stole the fleet Lou Brock
from them for a mere pittance of a trade. Even as recently as ’98,
McGwire topped Sammy.

Do Cubs faithful need a reminder of all these facts? No, they
remember every October. The only thing missing to make Chicago a
blazing metropolitan in the ilk of New York is a rich baseball
tradition.

It remains just out of reach, five hours to the south, and the
Windy City can’t stand it.

The Cubs always have next year; the Cardinals have pennants.

Still, as fun as it is to torment the Cubs with their history,
they have a sense of humor. What other team could you find shirts
advertising “Any team can have a bad century?” Or what baseball
lover could forget Steve Goodman’s lament “Do they still play the
blues in Chicago, when the baseball season rolls around?”

They have some baseball savvy fans. Year after year, even
through the worst of times, they come back to love a team who can
never quite get it done. They may not be the best fans in baseball;
but they stand near the top.

You have to admire a true Cubs fan. As long as they inhabit the
Earth, our sea of red will be contaminated with blue whenever their
boys are in town.

Ah, what a great rivalry. We Midwesterners can sure be jealous
of our have-nots, but we’re too nice to fight about it.

So we bring it out in a ballgame. Chicago may have the sites and
sounds; we’ll keep the baseball, thanks.