Once upon a time in this country, most red-blooded boys aspired to grow up and be one, and only one, thing — a Major League Baseball player. And for those in Texas and the Midwest, one team’s uniform stood out: the red and white of the St. Louis Cardinals, whose games were beamed over more airwaves than any other ball club’s.
For some of us, that childhood dream refused to fade, though our playing days ended in adolescence. Yes, ultimate career paths veered off the diamond, but our hearts never left the green field in the sun.
American ingenuity understands supply and demand. If legions of grown businessmen still fantasize about seeing themselves wearing a St. Louis uniform, playing on a manicured ball field, and yukking it up in the locker room with guys whose Cardinal heroics once filled the sports pages then, by golly, for the right price, there ought to be an opportunity for making those dreams come true.
For some of us, that childhood dream refused to fade, though our playing days ended in adolescence. Yes, ultimate career paths veered off the diamond, but our hearts never left the green field in the sun.
American ingenuity understands supply and demand. If legions of grown businessmen still fantasize about seeing themselves wearing a St. Louis uniform, playing on a manicured ball field, and yukking it up in the locker room with guys whose Cardinal heroics once filled the sports pages then, by golly, for the right price, there ought to be an opportunity for making those dreams come true.
Continue reading Boys of January.