For a day with an itinerary reading “ribs, Cardinals game” today
we managed to cobble together a full slate of St. Louis-iciousness – and one
that again left us both thoroughly exhausted. Again we found ourselves walking
more than we expected, although we didn’t come anywhere near the 12 miles (Lindsay did the math) that we’d covered in Chicago.
And, mercifully, it didn’t rain.
It started with a tour of the Anheuser-Busch brewery, or as
I’ll now think of it – the Emperor of Beers. Having only been on brewery tours
of small Boston
craft brewers, this thing provided quite a contrast. I’m pretty sure the
lobby/gift shop (of course there’s a
gift shop) is larger than the entire Sam Adams
brewery. This place had everything – wrought iron, hops-themed chandeliers,
decorative fence posts, and kitschy Americana
to spare. I’m glad I got to see the place, but I left scratching my head and
thinking that a huge multinational corporate firm had just tried to convince me
they were actually a mom-and-pop artisan.
It also had horses. I do not understand the horses.
Apparently they were once used to transport beer to the President and so now
they’re used for… something, I guess? And it somehow involves a Dalmatian too? In
any event, these horses had the nicest stables I’ve ever seen (not that I’ve
seen all that many stables). First off, there was no hay on the ground where us
people went. Second, there was another chandelier – brass this time. There was
also stained glass. And gilded carriages and saddles. And the inexplicable
Dalmatian. In a room smaller than the aforementioned lobby, at least 6
Clydesdales were stored, along with the Dalmatian who was constantly crying because
he was in an 8-by-8 fenced cage that allowed him to stand up and see all the
people who weren’t allowed to touch him. Fortunately, one woman on the tour
decided to break the rules against crossing the rope line and went over to pet
him anyway to calm him down. I’m pretty sure that when I have an opportunity to
buy any Anheuser-Busch products, I’m going to think of that dog.
Despite its close association with the Emperor of Beers, St. Louis redeems itself by
being so closely tied to barbeque that a style of ribs is named after it. After
choosing one of the several BBQ locations with 4+ star reviews on Yelp within 2
miles, I enjoyed the best half rack of ribs I’ve ever eaten (sorry, North
Carolina).
I also learned that my travel partner has never had ribs
before. After picking my jaw up off the floor, I resolved that this would be
taken care of by the end of the trip. After all, Memphis also has a style of ribs named after
it.
After eating one animal, we decided to go see some other
animals of the not-easily-edible variety at the St. Louis Zoo. Unlike a lot of
zoos I’ve seen, this one seemed to focus just on letting the guests see the
animals. It knows that although education is a good thing, no one’s reading an
informative sign when there are 4 Asian elephants in front of them. All you
need to put out is a sign saying “Elephants” and we’ll figure out all we need
to know. And I know that today we saw hippos, elephants, sleeping hyenas,
fornicating mongooses, and sea lions.
From there, it was time for baseball. Busch Stadium was
pleasant enough and I didn’t really have any strong feelings about it, but I
did promise to compare it to Wrigley. Both parks are
definitely designed as venues for watching baseball games (as opposed to my
Mets’ new home, which does everything it can to prevent fans from realizing the
horrors occurring on the field). Wrigley seeks to
help you watch a game the way fans did it 100 years ago – by sitting in your
seat and paying attention to the field. No fancy distractions on the scoreboard
(since it’s manual, thereby making videos pretty difficult), and no compelling
reasons to spend any time away from your seat. Not that any of this is intended
as criticism – Wrigley Field preserves the old-time baseball experience in a
way that only it and Fenway
Park can.
Busch Stadium wants you to watch baseball the way that fans
in 2014 watch baseball. There are good views of the field from every seat and
the 9 electronic outfield scoreboards provide instant answers to any
statistical questions you might have. The concourses are wide, so that getting
out after the game is well-organized and quick. There are plenty of food
vendors, although from what I could tell, it was all just your classic ballpark
fare (which is a good thing – sushi and fresh fruit have no place at a baseball
game). Most importantly, the menu boards are each accompanied by a video feed
of the game. There’s no way to forget you’re at a Cardinals game here.
As for the game itself, it had the arc of a concert. For the
first few innings, fans trickled in, showing mild interest in the game once
they arrived. It probably didn’t help that the Cardinals were down 2 runs
before they came to bat. But as the venue darkened, the crowd grew more focused
on the action in front of them. When the Cardinals tied the game in the 6th,
the entire stadium was on its feet. When they took the lead for good in the 7th,
the entire crowd was rapt with attention and no longer needed the calls to “Make
some noise!” that the scoreboard had futilely attempted earlier on.
The Cardinal fans tonight were mostly friendly
nonconfrontational Midwesterners who appreciated baseball done right. A bunt
base hit, a bobbled throw home, two consecutive throws over to first followed
by the pitcher stepping off, and the game’s final batter all received the
appropriate responses. While Red Sox fans are more passionate and Yankee fans
are more knowledgeable (particularly about how much their players make),
Cardinals fans respect the game. Their new stadium – a true baseball stadium – and row of
championship banners in the outfield are well-deserved.
But, to be honest, I’ll still never root for the Cardinals again unless
I’m in this city.
Are you still there? If so, check out Crown Candy Kitchen and get their BLT. I send my engineers out to that area all the time and they swear by it. One pound of perfect bacon, lettuce and tomato. Bring heart medicine.
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