Yes, I’ve watched the first two games of the World Series. No, I really don’t have a rooting interest, but that’s never mattered to me. Many times I have had one of “my teams” in the Series, but just as many times I haven’t and I’ve never willingly skipped a game. I’ve had to miss more than a few due to other obligations, but I’ve never once said “I’m not watching tonight” because I didn’t care to. I have many friends who are Dodger fans, and many (including my nephew Del III) who are diehard Red Sox fans. I’m a baseball fan. It’s in my blood.

I think the first World Series I was aware of and more or less cognizant of was 1963. That seems a little wrong to me, because I have a ridiculously good memory when it comes to such trivia, but I’ve researched the 1962 Series and none of it really rings a bell. In ’63 I would’ve been seven years old, so it sure seems like I would remember ’62 or even ’61, but I really don’t. And if I would’ve been paying attention and watching the 1960 Series, the way game seven ended would be seared into my memory. I only know what it looked like because I’ve seen the grainy black & white video a zillion times. Bill Mazeroski hit a walk-off for eternity and the Pittsburgh Pirates beat the Yankees 10-9. That’s one of the reasons Lance, Oscar, Radar and I visited the remaining piece of the old Forbes Field outfield wall when we were in Pittsburgh.

Here’s an interesting bit of trivia about the 1960 World Series. The Pirates won it four games to three, but in the seven games the Yankees outscored them 55-27. It doesn’t matter how many runs you score, it’s when you score them. And boy, the Yankees were dominant back then.

So, we’ll go with the story that ’63 was the first Series I was really mentally involved with. Part of that had to do with the fact the Cardinals (my home town team) were in the pennant race right until the end. They were eliminated so late we actually had a few 1963 World Series collector pins that had the Cardinal logo on them. The manufacturer tried to recall them all but somehow my parents got a few. At the age of seven, I just thought they were funny mistakes. And then I clearly remember the Dodgers sweeping the Yankees in four straight games. Sandy Koufax won games one and four, Johnny Podres and Don Drysdale won the other two. I remember feeling a bit cheated that the Series didn’t last longer. To this day, I want every Series to go seven, because after it’s over there’s no baseball until next spring, and it’s not even winter yet.

1964 was the big year for me. I remember the Series in great detail, and I’ll never forget game six. That was the first World Series game I attended in person. The Cardinals had the four home games, and our parents made sure my brother Rick, my sisters Cindy and Mary, and I each got to go to one game. My mom took me to game six. My oldest brother Del, who was already in college at Purdue, wasn’t home to get in on the fun.

When were kids we’d go to Cardinal games all the time, at what then was being called Busch Stadium after decades of being known as Sportsman’s Park. It was a cool old ballpark, and by the time Mary and I were seven or eight, they pretty much let us have the run of the place. Our regular seats were in the lower boxes, above the Cardinals’ dugout, but once we passed through the turnstiles Mom or Dad would say “Be back at our seats by the sixth inning.” We had a lot of fun.

For the World Series, however, tickets were at a premium and we were fortunate that the Cardinals gave us a pair of upper deck seats out near left field. I only ever sat in the upper deck there twice. Once for that game six and once on a field trip during summer day-camp. I remember Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris both hitting home runs (Joe Pepitone hit one too, but it was Maris and Mantle who had my attention) and the Yankees won. This great old photo shows Maris at the plate while Mantle kneels on deck. Our seats would’ve been right above the umpire’s head. I don’t recall being too upset about the fact the Cards lost that game. The next day, they won and I although I was at home listening on the radio, it was my first taste of a World Championship for my favorite team.

The next year was another big one. My dad worked for the Minnesota Twins throughout the 1960s, and they were very good for most of those years. There were especially good in 1965, and they played the Dodgers in the Series. I didn’t get to go to any of the games, but I watched all seven on our big living room TV set, with all of the games on NBC. Interestingly, NBC used Ray Scott (Twins announcer) and Vin Scully (Dodgers’ announcer) for the broadcasts. Both gentlemen had to be on their toes to at least sound impartial, but the good news was the two of them were very familiar with their teams. Sandy Koufax was the hero for L.A.

Jim Kaat was the ace for the Twins then, and the incomparable Koufax was the Dodgers’ star. Game one fell on Yom Kippur though, and Sandy sat it out to observe the holiday. The Twins started Mudcat Grant in game one, against Don Drysdale, and that matched up Koufax and Kaat for three of the seven games. Kaat won game two for the Twins, but Koufax out-dueled him in games five and seven. In that final game, both Koufax and Kaat were pitching on only two days rest. When game seven ended, I got to feel the other side of the equation, as compared to the year before. My team had lost. I honestly remember being crushed.

My mom worked for the Cardinals, in their front office, in 1967 and 1968. She must’ve been good luck. They played in both the ’67 and ’68 World Series, and were generally the best team in all of baseball. We had four box seats right behind home plate, and got to keep them for each Series. So, I saw all the home games in both years. And both years, with all the games being day games, the nuns at Mary Queen of Peace rolled big black & white TV sets into our classrooms so we could watch the games in Boston (’67) and Detroit (’68). The Cardinals won the ’67 World Series in seven, with the final game being at Fenway Park. As 11-year-olds we went crazy in our classroom.

That team featured many Cardinal legends, including Lou Brock, Bob Gibson, Tim McCarver, Curt Flood, Mike Shannon, and “Cha Cha” himself, Orlando Cepeda. Thanks to Cepeda, they were dubbed the El Birdos (despite the fact “birdos” is not real Spanish). It seemed like everyone in St. Louis had an El Birdo hat and button.

Sadly, I was also at game seven in 1968, at Busch. The Cardinals won three of the first four games and were dominating the Tigers. Gibson struck out 17 Tigers in game one and it really looked as if the Tigers were lucky to not strike out 27 times. They truly could hardly touch him.

When Bob Gibson was on, he was nearly untouchable. He was so good in 1968, Major League Baseball changed the rules starting in 1969. They lowered the pitching mound. In ’68, his stats were made up of numbers that seem utterly impossible today. They probably are impossible. He went 22 – 9 and he allowed only an otherworldly 1.12 earned runs per game. But those major stats don’t tell the whole story. Throughout the ’68 season Gibby pitched 28 complete games, out of the 33 he started. 13 of his wins were shutouts. He was pinch-hit for a few times, but he was never replaced by another pitcher or a reliever all year because the manager wanted someone else on the mound. Not once, all year. He was incredible.

He was also incredibly intimidating on the mound. He’d buzz one under your chin as a matter of normal operations, just letting you know who was in charge. He was “scary good” all year.

In game seven, though, the Tigers completed their comeback from being down three games to one, and I was in my mom’s office when it ended. I saw grown men scream and cry when the final out was made. I’d never seen that before. I didn’t like it one bit.

The 1969 World Series was memorable, as well, thanks to the Miracle Mets who went from being the worst team in baseball for a decade before going all the way to the mountain top. I think the nuns were just expecting another Cardinal pennant that year, but when it didn’t happen we all seemed to adopt the Mets. They brought the big TVs into our rooms for the whole series. I remember that so vividly, the way they’d turn off the lights and close the blinds. Then we’d all sit there and watch every inning of every game. For three straight years. And we were happy the Mets won. It was a great story.

I watched every year, but the next Series that really grabbed me was actually three World Series in a row, when the Oakland A’s beat the Reds, the Mets, and the Dodgers in 1972, ’73, and ’74. I thought the A’s were cool, with their mustaches and wild uniforms. I never dreamt I’d wear that uniform one day.

Then there was the fall of 1975. We were sophomores in college, living in our SIUE apartment, and Steve Novak, Kent “Cornpone” Wells, Tom Hill and I watched all seven games. It was game six when baseball was handed one of its greatest games of all time. The scoring went back and forth until the 12th inning, and that’s when Carlton Fisk hit the home run that established forever one of the greatest moments in baseball history. We were watching on TV when he did it, and couldn’t believe what we were seeing, when he leaped out of the batter’s box to “wave” the ball fair in Fenway Park.

A lot of people don’t remember that the Reds then bounced back and won game seven the next night. The Fisk home run kind of overshadowed that.

The next number of years were fun to watch, but I didn’t have much of a rooting interest. I think my favorite of that era in the late 70s and early 80s had to be the Pittsburgh Pirates “We Are Family” team in 1979, with their goofy hats and garish uniforms. Willie Stargell, Kent Tekulve, and the rest of that cast of total characters were easy to root for. I was happy they won it.

In 1981, I was living in California working for the Blue Jays when Toronto GM Pat Gillick surprised me by inviting me down to L.A. to watch games three, four, and five with the Dodgers hosting the Yankees. I wrote about that week extensively and in great detail in Bats, Balls, & Burnouts and it’s still fun to remember that World Series. Riding back to the Hyatt with Yogi Berra next to me one night, telling me Del Wilber stories, was only one of many highlights.

Then came 1982. I was still working for the Blue Jays, but by September it was pretty obvious the Cardinals were very good again, and I was living back home in St. Louis by then. The Jays were incredibly gracious enough to provide me 12 tickets for all four home games at Busch Stadium, including two right behind home plate in the box seats. I watched every minute of the games from Milwaukee on television. Ozzie Smith, Willie McGee, Keith Hernandez, George Hendrick, Darrell Porter, Bruce Sutter and all the rest were easy for a St. Louis boy to root for.

As I also detailed in Bats, Balls, & Burnouts there was an upside and downside to the two tickets right behind home. I was surrounded by executives, managers, and scouts for just about every other team in MLB. They were there to see the games but also to represent their clubs, and I was there as an official representative of the Blue Jays. So…  Despite my deeply held rooting interest, I couldn’t cheer. I couldn’t even clap. It was very difficult to restrain myself, but fortunately by the end of game seven, when Bruce Sutter struck out Gorman Thomas and catcher Darrell Porter leaped into Sutter’s arms, all the other baseball men had left to beat the traffic. Oscar and I made up for all the innings of having to be quiet.

In 1985, we had the I-70 Series, as the Cardinals faced the Royals. I had been away from the Blue Jays for a couple of years and was working for Converse Shoes at the time, but GM Pat Gillick in Toronto was once again beyond gracious. He got me two tickets for all the games, in St. Louis and Kansas City. That would make 1985 the only Series I’ve seen in its entirety.

Of course, it was a tough one for any Cardinal fan. The Redbirds won the first two games, in Kansas City, and we thought they were rolling. The Royals came back to win game three at Busch, but when the Cardinals again bounced back to win game four they were up three games to one. We all know what happened, and the missed call that was a central part of the Royals winning the last three.

In game six, neither team scored until the Cardinals got a run across in the top of the eighth. Cardinals closer Todd Worrell was on the mound in the bottom of the ninth. When a ground ball was hit to Jack Clark at first, his toss to Worrell as he covered the base was a little off the mark. Replays showed Worrell did keep his foot on the bag, but umpire Don Denkinger call Jorge Orta safe. There was no replay rule then, so even though all of America saw the mistake, Denkinger would not change his ruling. The Royals scored two to win the game and then blew out the Cards in game seven. I still feel sick about that one.

Two years later, the Cardinals were back in the Series again, but I was living in Reston, Virginia working for my brother Del’s agency, DelWilber+Associates. The Cardinals would take on the Minnesota Twins. I still followed the Twins but I’d never set foot in the Metrodome at that point. What everyone learned that fall was just how loud the Dome could be with all those screaming Twins fans going nuts, waving their Homer Hankies.

So loud that all seven games were won by the home team. What was bad for Cardinal fans was the fact the Twins had four home games and the Cardinals played at Busch for three. My gosh I thought I was going deaf just watching on TV. It was incredible.

I remember being a little detached that year, because I was living in DC and I hadn’t been able to follow the Cardinals that much. Plus, I liked the Twins anyway and had scouted Kent Hrbek when he was dominating Class A minor league ball in the California League. I didn’t really have any reason to root against them, but I think I agreed with many St. Louisans when I thought the home field advantage with all that noise seemed almost unfair.

Of course, once we moved to the Twin Cities I saw it as a perfectly fine thing. We did our share of screaming in the Metrodome and let me tell you, it really was loud. Painfully loud. Easily as loud as being in the front row at a Led Zeppelin concert.

And the Metrodome… Was it a dump? It was, but it was our dump so don’t put it down. And it had the great advantage of providing us a near guarantee that we’d see baseball whenever we went down there. The Vikings didn’t quite get that guarantee the time the roof caved in, but we watched Twins games in thunderstorms and blizzards, dry and warm as could be. Yeah, it stunk when it was 80 and beautiful in July and we had to enter through the airlocks to go inside, but it was still our dump.

Over the intervening years I’ve watched them all. There was 2002 when the Angels won over the Giants and we were at a big dinner in Las Vegas with all the Team CSK guys and a bunch of our sponsors from Checker, Schuck’s, Kragen during game seven. Del Worsham and I got up from our huge table at Smith & Wollensky to watch the ending of that game on TV in the bar. When the Angels won, Del was as giddy as I’d ever seen him for something not drag racing related.

And in 2004 the Cardinals were swept in four games, but it almost didn’t bother me. I hadn’t lived in St. Louis for 10 years by then, and like the rest of the country I was enamored with the Red Sox, when they kept refusing to lose to the Yankees in the ALCS. It was amazing to watch that series, and the World Series seemed pretty much anticlimactic.

There was 2011, when the Cardinals were facing the Rangers and I was at dinner in the Mandalay Bay resort with Tim and Krista Wilkerson. Tim kept going out to the bar to check the score and it was obvious the Rangers were pounding them. And then the Cards mounted a ridiculous and ridiculously tense comeback. David Freese doesn’t play for the Cardinals anymore, but he’ll never be forgotten for that game six when the Cardinals blew my mind by coming back after being behind in both the ninth and the tenth innings. I had time to get back to my room and watch the whole thing unfold, trading texts and emails with my brothers, sisters, nieces, and nephews throughout it. We all still have Cardinal DNA.

I’ll be watching again tomorrow night when the Dodgers try to break through for their first win in this 2018 World Series, against those same pesky Red Sox. And coincidentally, David Freese plays for the Dodgers. Maybe he can be a World Series hero again. I’ll be watching.

Because it’s the World Series. The Fall Classic. It’s in my blood and it’s in my DNA. I can’t help it.

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See you next week!

Bob Wilber, at your service and a World Series guy since I was a kid.