Don't care. No one cares. It's barely news. Signed and sealed with a big fat asterisk. So, so sad. That's it.

Clydesdales in the evening sun....

Rounding third and headed for home....

Clydesdales in front of our section.

Fecking Fredbird.

A troop of Mustangs to bring in the players....

The great reliever Adam Wainwright. Please don't let him suck ass in the starting rotation. Thank you.

So Taguchi! Damn my slow camera.

Finally found my Wainwright tee! After six months of looking. This is a Youth Medium. Go fig.

The curse of the Bambino was lifted from the Red Sox and transmitted via osmosis to our pathos-riddled asses in 2004. I can't live 86 more years!!

BAD MOJO.

I was avoiding posting anything. The announcers were avoiding saying anything. After two absolute fecking embarrassing blowouts Tuesday and yesterday against the White Sox, our rookie pitcher, Anthony Reyes, had a (shhhh!) no-hitter going into the 7th inning. With one out, he gives up a ... home run. To Jim Tome, who I'm fairly certain is 64 if he's a day. So not only is his no-hitter gone, but his shutout is as well. And God forbid we get any offense whatsoever, so the win isn't in sight right now either. Fecking great. Edited: Shit. Anthony thanks y'all for nothing.

1. Series finale of Everwood tonight. The thought alone sends me into despair. Seriously, y'all. Well-written, risk-assuming, impeccably-acted drama is stuck impotent at the heels of the CW merger, which inexplicably saves 7th Heaven from the ashes it nestled in with Stefano fucking DiMera. I know not many of you watch it, but check out the DVDs whenever you get the chance, for your own wistful enjoyment. Then share in my disappointment. I can't complain too bitterly since they kept Veronica Mars around, but folks! No more fecking Camdens!

2. A new pet peeve is "remix" songs that feel the need to exclaim "remix" in the lyrics. (i.e. "It's the remix to 'Ignition,' hot and fresh out the kitchen"). Most offensive is the Ludacris remix to "What's Your Fantasy," which is mad offensive for other reasons to boot.

3. Was in the car for a total of 7 minutes this morning heading to and from the dermatologist. Heard Daniel Powter's "Bad Day" twice. The camera don't lie.

4. At the Cards' games Friday and Saturday. Saw 23 innings, one injured MVP, and two losses. At least the Birds pulled it out on Sunday, no thanks to He Who Shall Not Be Named. Why do we show no prowess against the Cubbies? It's an ages-old mystery, but at the end of the day I'd rather be first-place Central and losing the occasional pride-swallowing series.

5. OverheardintheOffice.com is masterful. Too bad I telecommute and would rarely have anything to contribute. My favorite so far is here.

Oh, yes. Cards d. Phillies, 13-5. That score is almost misleading, as it was 13-1 at one point. Scott Rolen returning after many MANY moons' absence, with a big grand slamma lamma (ding-dong!).

It's officially Spring, y'all. Cards/Yanks World Series 2006!!

There are exactly three things wrong with this article. I've included subtle hints to indicate what these are.

Immediately after announcing that they would not offer arbitration to second baseman Mark Grudzielanek (RATS!) and outfielder Reggie Sanders (NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!), the Cardinals moved to fill both of those holes by acquiring second baseman Aaron Miles and outfielder Larry Bigbie from Colorado. [Ray] King has been one of the Majors' most durable relievers, while Miles and Bigbie could slot directly into St. Louis' starting lineup.

The Cardinals also announced that they have offered salary arbitration to free agent pitcher Matt Morris. (Why, God WHY??)

Sad to see Ray King go, as well. As my Mom once exclaimed, "Bring back fattie!"

The good news is, there's news about baseball.

Pujols Nabs the NL MVP.

Honestly, I'm surprised Barry Bonds didn't win it again despite being out the whole freaking year.

Combine this with Carp's victory last week, and things are good in the Redbird organization, 2005 NLCS notwithstanding.

Pitchers and catchers report in mid-February!

Hooray!

Moderate Vindication.

Yeah. Game 6 pretty much sucked. Cards were shut down like a bunch of incontinent little leaguers, ump calls were sketchy, and Monday's AP home run was rendered moot. Worse yet, the last game at Busch Stadium, ever, was a tough loss, concluding with a 'Stros celebration. So the last person on the Busch field? Probably Roger feckin' Clemens. Damnit all.

So now I have a respite. Other than caring about the KC Chiefs by proxy, my interest in sports is nil until March Madness. And then with April 3 or so begins baseball again, and a fresh slate is had by all.

Fair thee well, my dear La Russa, Eckstein, Carpy, Sanders, Taguchi, Rolen, Grudzy, Marquis, Molina, Jimmy, and Pudge in the off season. All the rest of y'all, as Mel Allen used to say, don't let the door hit you on the way out. Izzy, I'll be seeing you in the soda aisle at Target. Watch yo' back.

That, my friends? Is good baseball. What happens from here? It will be a battle, and the ending may not be what I want, but at least the boys get to return to Busch. With some hella fierce momentum, to boot.

For those of you that don't know, btw? Albert Pujols is an amazing young man. Not just his celebrated playing ability, but his kindness, humility, selflessness, and devotion to his family are traits worthy of legend. So it's befitting that he wear the hero crown so many times, including tonight.