http://tinyurl.com/6l8ql

9 out of 10.

In October 1967 I was just shy of my 11th birthday and deemed
too young for Series tickets. Our cousin flew in from El Paso,
Texas with four precious tickets to the World Series. He owned a
string of pizza parlors in and around El Paso and bought a lot
of yeast from Anheuser-Busch. His yeast salesman set him up with
Series tix and he'd bring one of his kids with him and stay at
my grandparent's house in E. St. Louis for the duration. We were
in the Series in '64, '67 and '68, so three of his 4 kids, all
the boys, got to see at least one World Series game. The rest
of the tickets were distributed based on family tree, seniority
and Cardinals passion.

I finally got my chance in Game 7 of the 1968 World Series. That
is the ONLY Game 7 the St. Louis Cardinals have ever lost at home
in the long, grand tradition of Cardinals baseball. I'll never
forget how I felt that day.

In 1985 I pulled a bottle of bubbly out of the fridge, went so
far as to tear the foil off the cork, when Denkinger blew "The Call."
Only time I've ever thrown away a bottle of unopened Moet & Chandon.
After '68 I should have known better.

But that was then, and this is now. Time to crack open an ice cold
Budweiser, get the scorecard at the ready and settle in for the
greatest spectacle in all of sport. Gawd, I'm pumped.

--
Ken Fortenberry