All's Well That Ends Well
Thank you for They're the Best (So Deal with It) in the Nov. 6 issue. The 2006 St. Louis Cardinals showed that it doesn't matter how bad your season was, it only matters where you are when the fat lady sings.
Becca Hall, Albuquerque
You could not have picked a better symbol to represent the people of St. Louis than the "short"stop of the world champion Cards. David Eckstein is a perfect example for every child who has been told he or she is too small to play sports. Congratulations to the smallest MVP—with the biggest heart—in World Series history.
John J. Dauer, St. Charles, Mo.
It's noteworthy that you gave well-deserved credit to unlikely Cardinals heroes Eckstein, Yadier Molina and Jeff Weaver but did not mention baseball's best player, Albert Pujols. That's the kind of World Series it was.
George Wine, Coralville, Iowa
Perhaps the media's lack of faith in our team resulted in lackluster World Series TV ratings, but the Cards played with a depleted roster all season, banded together to win the required postseason 11 games and deserve to be called world champs.
Carson V. Heady, St. Louis
On behalf of all of Cleveland, thanks to Mark Bechtel for the finely written essay on the true passion Clevelanders have for football (SCORECARD, Nov. 6). I'm not old enough to remember the Browns' glory days, but I support them more than any other team—regardless of their lack of success—and frankly, I don't know why. That's just the way we're brought up in Cleveland. While other cities complain about being cursed, we've remained proud, loyal supporters. Go, Browns!
Will Gibson, Cleveland
My father waited until after the 1987 Browns vs. Broncos AFC Championship Game and "the Drive" to take my mother, who was about to give birth to me, to the hospital. When I later asked my father why he had waited, he told me, "I wouldn't have missed that game for the world," and I added, "or your firstborn son." He made it up to me by taking me to the last game played in the Cleveland Municipal Stadium before the team moved to Baltimore.
C.J. Hayes, Painesville, Ohio
Steve Rushin's column on the way sports adds to our language gave me a chuckle (AIR AND SPACE, Nov. 6). At East High School in West Chester, Pa., where I am an English teacher, we are required to have fire drills throughout the year. Every now and then we have one near the end of last period, at which point students head for the buses or their cars and go home. My term for this: a walk-off fire drill.
Barry Boehmer, Downingtown, Pa.
I am more interested in David Stern than in watching his product (The World According to David Stern, Nov. 6). After reading Jack McCallum's persuasive piece on Stern's leadership qualities, it is not hard to understand how Stern has been able to successfully lead his employees for 22 years. The commissioner's more than $10 million salary is a bargain.
Patrick Hood, Smyrna, Ga.
Your cover says DAVID STERN NEVER SLEEPS. Perhaps the commissioner would care to catch up on his z's by tuning in to an NBA telecast. The one I just watched took nearly three hours for a nonovertime, regular-season game.
Larry Kovac, Erie, Pa.
Two pages of text reflecting on the death of Arnold Jacob Auerbach (Nov. 6) and seven about David Stern? If it weren't for Red, there would be no Dave.
Carl Stone, Wheatfield, N.Y.
In 1953, when I was 15, I attended Bob Cousy's summer basketball camp in New Hampshire. A week later we were joined by some high school players who had just spent time at Auerbach's camp in Rhode Island. Hoping to pick up some invaluable pointers on dribbling techniques or how to launch a jump shot, I asked what they had learned under the Celtics' coach. "He taught us how to grab the waistband of an opposing player's shorts when guarding from behind and not get caught" was the response. After that, when I heard stories about Red's "Do anything to win" approach, it was easy to believe every word.
Anthony W. Hawthorne, Berkeley, Calif.
A thumbs up to Peter Read Miller for his photo of Peyton Manning in the Nov. 6 LINEUP. I'm not a Colts fan or a Manning fan, but one name came to mind when I turned to that page: John Unitas. Miller caught Manning in a timeless QB pose.
Jeff Thacker, Boston
Rick Reilly's column on Ben Roethlisberger's deal with the devil was absolutely, satanically, brilliant (LIFE OF REILLY, Nov. 6). I could smell the sulphur and feel the prick of the psychic pitchfork. Poor Ben.
Gene Cubbison, San Diego
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