Three weekends ago was Chicago. Two weekends ago was Indianapolis. And last weekend was St. Louis--we're taking advantage of our proximity to awesome places.
Yep, we did it. We did the crazy and we drove down to St. Louis for the World Series. We left at noon on Saturday, arrived in the city by 3:30 p.m. Central Time, enjoyed some blissful hours in the city and a fantastic baseball game, and headed home at 11:30 p.m. Central Time, arriving at 6:00 a.m. Eastern Time and were sitting in church by 10:00 Sunday morning.
It was a whirlwind, and it was so fun.
Ever since the Jazz broke my heart in 1998, I've hesitated to begin a new relationship with a professional team. But Preston is lighting the fire for me again with his passion for the Red Sox. I don't get into sports because I get too into sports. And the nail-biter of a game last Saturday night that didn't go our way could have been one of those deeply depressing evenings. But it was just too good of an experience. We were surrounded by (mostly) awesome fans--Cardinal (mostly) and Sox fans alike. We were all dizzy with the American spirit and love of the game. Singing God Bless America with 46,800 people during the 7th inning stretch, lead by a sailor in the Navy, gave me chills. Despite that angering, fateful error at third base in the bottom of the ninth that stripped us of victory for the second game in a row, we had an amazing time in St. Louis.
And the Sox beat those Cardinals the next two nights. Boo Ya. See you at Fenway.
For it's 1...2...3 strikes you're out at the old ball game!
Let's go Red Sox!
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