by Tom Finkel
I don't miss the inane chatter of the Mad Hungarian, but I do miss me some Cardinals baseball. Thankfully, two months after moving to New York and two weeks into the season, I discovered a Cardinals bar, Dewey's Flatiron, located on Fifth Avenue across from Madison Square Park.
Only a half-hour subway ride from my pad in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, Dewey's is perhaps more upscale than my previous Cardinals game haunt, the grease-saturated CWE dive J&A's Bar and Grill. It features good burgers and overpriced drinks. (As is typical in New York, the drinks cost about the same as the burgers.) No one I've asked seems to know how Dewey's became a Cardinals bar. Perhaps the owners saw a niche. (I've also found Brewers and Cubs bars here.)
I chatted with a pair of SLU High grads who were as amazed as I was to find ourselves lusting after Imo's pizza when their ads came on. Cardinals fan Will Leitch of Deadspin was also present. I didn't berate the Illinois native for dragging St. Albert's name through the mud on his Gawker Media-owned blog last year, if only because he was surrounded by a swarm of red-clad screaming girls.
They were yelping largely for Chris Duncan, the hero of the night (inasmuch as there can be a hero in a loss to the Pirates). There was no denying that Dunc's diving catch of Freddy Sanchez's liner to left was a near miracle. Graceful, it was not, however, and even less so was the way he adjusted his chaw for what seemed like the next five minutes, pausing to wipe brown slobber onto his uniform.
I wonder what he'll hump next.