We’re a choosy bunch, Cardinal fans. Just because you don the Birds On the Bat doesn’t guarantee that we’ll welcome you with open arms.
Despite his obvious talent, Colby Rasmus never really fit in in St. Louis. Tino Martinez was better suited for pinstripes. Poor Royce Clayton never stood a chance at short. A.J. Pierzynski? Well, nobody likes A.J. Pierzynski. Bobby Bonds, Will Clark, Bobby Bonilla, John Smoltz… They won’t be remembered as Cardinals. Let’s face it: It’s an exclusive club. You have to earn your place. There are only so many Perfect Warriors, Perfect Knights, out there.
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For starters, we love guys who come up through the system and then come into their own on the big-league level. Stan Musial and Bob Gibson were statue-worthy icons who proved themselves year in, year out. Not that you need to be a Cardinal lifer. We flipped over the acrobatic Ozzie Smith when he came over from San Diego for the middle finger-waving Garry Templeton. Lou Brock literally stole our hearts when he was shuffled out of Chicago for Ernie Broglio, et al. Jim Edmonds simply moxied his way into favor after leaving Anaheim, regularly disappearing over distant center field fences only to return with ball in glove.
A few even manage to win us over in short order (think Lance Berkman, Jeff Weaver, Carlos Beltran, etc.). But for most, it doesn’t happen overnight.
Take one Matthew Thomas Holliday. In July 2009, the A’s swapped the strapping Oklahoman to the Cardinals for a trio of prospects and $1.5 million. At the time, it seemed a prudent one-year rental for pennant-chasing St. Louis, then clinging to a game-and-a-half lead over both the Cubs and Astros in the NL Central and in need of a mid-season power surge. The former Colorado Rockies mainstay was a three-time All-Star who just two years prior had amassed 137 RBIs and finished second in MVP voting. In his debut with St. Louis, he collected four hits and an RBI. He even stole a base. Who better to bolster the Cards’ run for October glory?
Then came Game 2 of the 2009 NLDS.
All was right with the world when Holliday clubbed a go-ahead homer off Dodger ace Clayton Kershaw, putting the Cards in front 2-1. But in the top of the ninth, with St. Louis just an out away from leveling the series at a game apiece, he committed a mortal baseball sin, the kind of miscue that cruelly imprints itself upon the minds of baseball diehards like a magnesium flash: even when you close your eyes you still see it. Even now I can picture Holliday tumbling headlong into the Bermuda grass of Chavez Ravine much to the merriment of the Dodger hordes.
L.A. infielder James Loney sent a Ryan Franklin fastball to left center, a shallow flare that appeared to be well within Holliday’s range. A gut-punch pall fell over Dodger Stadium as Loney futilely trotted down the first base line. Game over.
Only it wasn’t. Whether he lost it in the lights or was just overwhelmed by the moment—with L.A.’s white-towel wavers a living, breathing camouflage backdrop—Holliday misjudged the ball and fumbled an awkward attempt to make the catch at his waist, the ball ricocheting forward. Loney ended up on second base and would eventually account for the game-tying run, as the Dodgers went on to win, 3-2, snatching all the momentum they would need in the best-of-five series, one they went on to sweep. And so it was that Holliday, who had committed but one error in 62 regular-season games with the Cardinals, came to be regarded as a bust.
“Couldn’t see the ball,” he offered afterward, a dejected newcomer facing a beat-reporter inquisition. “I was just hoping it would hit my glove.”
Holliday’s error was the takeaway moment in the Cards’ lusterless postseason run that year. Which made it all the more surprising when, just three months later—on January 21, 2010—John Mozeliak made the first blockbuster move of his tenure as GM of the St. Louis Cardinals, inking the left fielder to a seven-year, $120 million deal.
It was the richest contract in franchise history. Somewhere, Mr. Musial, whose combined salary over 22 years of service with the organization fell short of the $1 million mark, was shaking his head.
Fairly or unfairly, we figured he couldn’t possibly be worth all that money. In a town known for its pragmatism when it comes to all things free agency, he’d surely never live up to the contract. He’s too fragile, we thought, not a team-first gamer. And who could blame us? After two appearances on the DL in 2011, he was removed from a late-August game against the Dodgers after a wayward moth flew into his ear. That same year, a tendonitis flare-up limited him to just two starts against the Phillies in the NLDS. In Game 6 of the World Series — yes, The David Freese Game — Holliday injured his hand on a pickoff play at third and promptly removed himself from the proceedings. The injury kept him out of Game 7.
Hardly the Cardinal Way.
But therein lies the beauty of sports. The great ones are never defined by their slip-ups, their low points. In this marathon game we call baseball, you have to step back and look at the full arc of a player’s career before you can measure their impact upon an organization. When just weeks ago Mozeliak informed Holliday that the Cardinals would likely not be picking up his $17 million option for 2017, he did so out of respect, respect Holliday was entitled to after more than a half-dozen years as one of the most consistent, blue-collar, nose-to-the-grindstone ballplayers ever to ply their craft in the Mound City.
Turns out Holliday lived up to that $120 million contract after all, both on the field and as a clubhouse leader. Though his production slowed over the past two seasons (a Mike Montgomery beanball limited his play in 2016), he posted six 20-homer and four 90-RBI seasons, and finished with a .293 average in 981 games with St. Louis. His 156 home runs rank 11th overall on the Cardinals’ all-time honor rolls. None will be remembered more than his last—the first pinch-hit home run of his 13-year Major League career. Though still not fully recovered from thumb surgery, Holliday was activated from the disabled list for the final regular-season home stand against Pittsburgh in order to give fans a chance to see him in a Cardinal uniform for what was likely to be the last time.
It had been more than six weeks since Holliday’s last plate appearance. And when he made his way from the on-deck circle to the batter’s box, his teammates on the top step of the dugout, the home crowd on its collective feet, cell phones raised to capture the moment, he was already wiping the tears away, the gravity of the moment beginning to sink in.
“Look at the tears in his eyes. Trying to bat, welled up with tears,” observed Pirate play-by-play man Greg Brown. “How do you do it? My gosh, how do you hit here?”
In storybook fashion, Holliday hammered the third pitch from Zach Phillips, a hanging breaking ball, for an opposite-field home run.
“No way—wow!” exclaimed Brown in disbelief. “He hasn’t had an at-bat since August 11, and he homers? That’s what makes this game the greatest game on Earth.”
Always leery of the spotlight and never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this time Holliday couldn’t contain the waterworks. After embracing close pals Yadier Molina and Adam Wainwright, he emerged from the dugout to tip his cap to the crowd, his head down.
Holliday’s longball, along with Aledmys Diaz’s grand slam tribute to his late pal Jose Fernandez and a hobbled Brock throwing out the first pitch on Opening Day, will long be remembered in St. Louis as one of the most poignant moments of 2016. When Cardinals fans urged him out for that curtain call, they were doing much more than applauding his latest display of muscle; they were telling him that he was truly one of their own. The man who had made St. Louis his home—who had quietly donated his time with a variety of charitable organizations and put up with us doubters—merits a spot among the Cardinals elite. We’re talking Red Jacket Club here.
“I’ve given everything I had, and I’ve tried to play the game the right way,” said Holliday, who would make a token appearance in left field in Game No. 162, as the Cardinals fell painfully short of clinching a Wild Card berth. “I love the organization, and I’m really proud of a lot of the things we were able to accomplish in my time here.”
Regardless of what happens in the off-season—whether the front office can somehow come to terms with Holliday’s agent, Scott Boras, on a short-term, team-friendly deal, or he moves on to another ball club to finish out his career—Holliday has earned his rightful place among the Cardinals greats. I suspect a few years down the road, when Red, Ozzie, Gibby & Co. are paraded out for one of those cherished gatherings of our local legends, Holliday will be there, too. He’s one of ours, after all.
