Page 3: I Miss My Teams

I'm home, and I'm on my bed. My blanket is green, my sheets are gray, and I'm facing my door.  Outside, I can hear cars making their way down Delmar Loop, one of the great St. Louis streets and perhaps one of the best in the United States. 

It has recently dropped about 20 degrees in the past three days, which, after getting used to this kind of weather for the last four years, is pretty normal.

Behind me, against the wall, lays my Rangers throw blanket under some khakis and a green button-down shirt.  My Mets pillow is wedged between the wall and my bed, next to my other, real pillows.

I turned on the Rangers' live radio broadcast on my computer, but it's intermission, so I'm caught between periods, aimlessly trolling the Internet in hopes of some tidbit or sound bite that might pique my interest, even if just for a moment. 

There is no new news on any N.Y. sports team of any consequence.  I am alone in my St. Louis thoughts.

I've tried to embrace the sporting city around me.  St. Louis itself is a fine city, with plenty to see downtown and a serious variety of people from every imaginable "walk of life" just two blocks south of my apartment. 

The Cardinals are a decent team to watch, and having Albert Pujols and Ryan Ludwick on my fantasy team (I actually traded Ludwick and another OF for Pujols in the steal of the century) provided increased incentive to watch a few innings here and there. 

But while I was watching the Cards, my beloved Mets were in New York, spiraling out of control and out of the playoff picture. 

I was in St. Louis, helpless to prevent their fall.

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