The St. Louis Cardinals overcame heavy odds in winning the 2011 World Series. While Game 7 was the clincher, the previous contest will be remembered as the turning point. Game 6 between the Cardinals and the Texas Rangers has been called many things. The New York Times called it "epic." Time Magazine and CNN.com both called it an "instant classic." Few, though, have used another classification that is just as apt: the worst baseball game in recent postseason memory.
Don't get me wrong: the game was an absolute joy to watch. It provided suspense, drama, and (sweet Jesus!) the excitement! Over the past three or so years of baseball, I find it hard to recall a game I would have rather watched. However, the fact remains, if this game was played at the high school junior varsity level, both teams would've been running like there was no tomorrow afterwards.
Where do I begin?
A combined 5 errors, 4 unearned runs, 2 wild pitches, 3 blown saves, 12e base on balls...
The Cards allowed leadoff base-runners in five of the first seven innings: 2 walks, 2 errors, and a solo home run. The Rangers' pitching staff walked more batters than they struck out. There were four attempted sacrifice bunts in the game — the lone success was literally bunted over the head of a charging third baseman. The list goes on.
And these were the best two teams in the major leagues this year? It wasn't only the physical shortcomings. Strategically and mentally, this game was an absolute disaster.
Why, when the Cardinals had the bases loaded during the bottom of the 8th inning, did three consecutive hitters swing at the first pitch they saw? Yes, Daniel Descalso and Jon Jay singled; however, Descalso's first-pitch swing was a routine groundball that was mentally misplayed by Elvis Andrus, who could have either thrown Yadier Molina out by 15 feet for the force play or quick-released a throw across the diamond to end the inning. (But Ian Kinsler wasn't at the base! They're major leaguers. Toss it over the bag, he was there in time.) Then, with the bases juiced, Rafael Furcal (3-for-24 in the series at that point) hacked at a first pitch slider out of the zone, anticlimactically tapping out to Mike Adams to kill the rally. Smart hitting while in a slump, with your team trailing, and the pitcher backed into a corner.
On the flipside, how could Jason Motte throw a first-pitch fastball down Broadway to Josh Hamilton — a man who swings at roughly 50% of first pitches — in the 11th inning? Did Motte and Molina fall asleep reading the scouting report? It was absurd to give him a hittable pitch in that situation.
On the managing side, riddle me this, La Russa: how can you leave Molina on base in the bottom of the eighth when your team is four outs away from elimination? Had Edwin Jackson or Kyle Lohse been on second when Jay stroked the single to center, the game would have been tied without Furcal's foolish flail. Imagine if the Cards had not fought back in the 9th — it would have cost them the game. The retirement conference for La Russa would have had a few more questions to be answered.
And then came the play that will go down in history: a historic, bases-clearing, 2-out, 2-strike triple by David Freese to tie the game in the bottom of the ninth. How can anyone find fault with this play? Let me count the ways:
1) Tony La Russa — Why is Lance Berkman still on first base as the potential tying run? If this ball goes to the gap, he will either be held at third or hosed at the plate. Unless the ball is misplayed...
2) Nelson Cruz — I do not fall into the camp that believes Cruz could have caught this flyball. Replays are inconclusive. What is conclusive to an intelligent baseball player, though, is that Lance Berkman on was on first base. Cruz has a shotgun for an arm — play the ball off the carom, hit your cutoff man, and watch Berkman slam on the brakes or barrel your catcher to end the series.
3) Neftali Feliz — At what point in the at-bat did a grooved, 2-strike fastball seem like the best idea to close out David Freese? The easiest 98 mph pitch to hit (if there is one) is one down in the zone and out over the plate. Had Feliz gone inside or up, this series is over and...
4) David Freese — ...would have been the goat he had prepared himself to be. Only in baseball can the man who nearly cost his team the game return (in an entirely self-created moment) to be the hero. Had he caught the pop-up in the top of the fifth, Cards win this game in nine. As it stands, he's a World Series hero instead.
Now, as an analytical and observant student of baseball, I completely understand that all of my hypothetical "what ifs" would have altered the course of this game profoundly. Perhaps a pinch-runner gets thrown out at the plate to end the eighth. Maybe Freese's error forces the pitcher to focus instead of easing up and dishing out back-to-back homers. Suppose Pujols trotted out to first base twelve seconds later due to Furcal waiting for the second pitch, breaks his ankle tripping over another squirrel, and the morale in St. Louis drops irretrievably low. I get it.
But ultimately, so much about this game made baseball purists cringe.
There's a reason Japan wins the World Baseball Classic each time it's played: fundamentals. They robotically manufacture runs, avoid sloppy defense, and throw strikes. Either team could have taken this Series had they followed that basic formula.
But then again, where would the excitement have come from?
