No smack by Joe Hays on my blog this morning. Oh, no. The Angels won, 5-3. And the boys from the Bronx are going home. So I had my chance to trashtalk over on Joe's blog. You can go here for the full piece. Here's just a bit. (As someone said in his comments, I MOSTLY took the high road.) Besides, my anti-Yankees zeal is probably heightened by a since of self-flagellation. (It comes with my religious heritage.) In 1964, at the age of eight, I went with my dad to St. Louis to watch the Cardinals and the Yankees in the World Series. These are MY Cardinals: the team of Musial, of Gibson, of Brock, of Ozzie, and of the mighty Pujols. I've been a faithful follower . . . since the age of nine. But at age eight, there was one player that loomed above all others for me: the Mick. So in this stadium filled with Cardinal red (the old Sportsmans' Park, not Busch Stadium) I was cheering on Mickey Mantle. I remember the plane flying overhead pulling a banner that read: "Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris too; we've come to put a hex on you." I can't remember what I preached on last week, but I remember that sign clearly from 41 years ago. And that's the power of baseball. - - - - I've gone back into this morning's post to ask you to please read the fourth comment from Mark and Laura about their son, Tyler. Please know, Mark and Laura, that many, many people will be praying for Tyler (and your whole family). Please keep us posted. Diane and I have never been right where you are, but our stories do overlap a little bit. And we know how frightening it is to wait--to hope and fear at the same time.