This is difficult to write for a handful of reasons. First, I know I’m writing for a largely Cardinal crowd.  That most of you who read this are rooting for that team you love. Or that team that you didn’t care about in early September but now you’re a “lifelong fan” of. Or that team that you know nothing about, but you live in the same city as the stadium and all your friends think it’s cool so you have completely betrayed your hometown team to root for this city. But either way, even if you can’t name five of the starting nine, most of you are rooting for the local team.
You know who you are.  You don’t want to admit it.  But you know.

Second, I’m a huge Texas Rangers fan.  Which means a few things. It means I remember the days of Rusty Greer and Juan Gonzalez and Rick Helling, and a bunch of other guys you’ve never heard of.  It means I’ve been tormented for the first 18 years of my life, and last year was the first time I could remember winning a playoff game. It means that that I don’t want to write this – because I don’t want to jinx anything. And it means that I’m living behind enemy lines.

When I walk around campus with my Rangers jersey, or my “T” cap, I get looks.  When I went to Game 2 last week and screamed my lungs out after whipping Jason Motte into submission, yeah we got boos.  And that’s how it should be – a healthy competition. I attended Game 2 here in St. Louis, then returned home over break for Games 3, 4, and 5 in Texas.  I guess there’s a bright side to MLB’s ridiculous All-Star Game rule. While it may completely and unfairly benefit the home team,  it allows me one more day to get my voice back so I can go nuts tonight at Busch Stadium.