The Cardinals' season may be over, but that doesn't mean the work of the Cardinal organisation is done. No, there's still work to be done; free agents to be resigned, arbitration offers to be formulated, fitness programs devised and enforced.
Well, I've decided to do my part to help out the Cardinals a little bit. I'm going to help out the advertising department with their next round of "Play Like a Cardinal" ads. Being a high-powered ad executive myself (note: not a real ad exec), I have brilliant ideas for commercials all the time. I'm not even going to charge for them! All I ask of the numerous Cardinal executives who read this blog every single day is I get credit for my ideas. I may not be able to write a rap about the number six, but I guarantee if you take my ideas to heart, no one will ever forget the results.
We open with a shot of a man's hands. He's stitching something white, though at first we can't tell what it is. The camera begins to slowly pull out and we can see he's sewing a large red number five onto a white jersey.
The camera cuts to a shot of someone who we can see only from the back. He appears to be clawing at a wall in front of him. Across his back is the name Lidge and the number 54. He turns toward the camera and we see it's a young man, dressed in what looks like a crudely sewn, handmade Houston Astros home jersey.
Cut back to a shot of the first man, again a closeup of his hands. He's buttoning up the jersey he just made while swaying back and forth to music playing in the background. We slowly drift up to his face to reveal a neatly trimmed goatee and shaved head.
Cut to the second man, turning around and looking at the walls of some sort of pit he's being kept in. Suddenly, he calls out, "Mister? Please, mister, you've got to let me go. I don't know how to throw a slider, I swear! I don't really even like baseball that much. Please, mister, my family has season tickets, they'll make sure you're taken care of! Mister?" Rising panic is evident on his face, and the camera cuts to the floor of the pit. Several baseballs are scattered around on the floor; all of them appear to have been drawn on with a magic marker, with drawings indicating where to place the fingers to throw a slider.
I'm also thinking of an ad in which Dave Duncan, pictured here, is asked to help a young FBI agent come up with a plan to induce more grounders.
Cut back to the first man, his face this time. We can still hear the man in the pit calling out, becoming more desperate all the time, but the first man is oblivious to the sound. He is now shown from the waist up, dressed in a full Cardinal uniform he has obviously sewn himself. He dances while staring at himself in a mirror, brushing his goatee, and reaches over to the table next to him and picks up a gold necklace. He puts it on, then reaches back over and picks up a tin of shoe polish. He slowly places a bit on his finger, then draws a line beneath each eye, leaning in close to examine his handiwork. Pleased, he sets the polish down, then executes a quick imitation of a baseball swing. Moving back to the mirror, he leans in close and speaks to his reflection. His voice is deep, with a faux Latin accent.
"Would you walk me, mang? I would walk me. I would walk me sooo hard."
Cut back to the man in the pit. He's becoming more agitated now, turning wildly around and looking for some method of escape. He picks up a ball, stares at the finger markings, and begins crying.
Cut to the first man, who is now holding a baseball bat. He spits out a piece of gum and swings at it, then steps toward a plate he's drawn on the floor. The camera pulls back as he sinks into a crouch, widening his feet. The screams of the man in the pit come through as he pleads for someone else to hang a breaking ball. The first man raises the bat above his shoulder and pumps it once, twice, three times and stares toward the camera. As the man in the pit's screams become nothing but unintelligible wailing and sobbing, the tagline, Play Like a Cardinal, comes up on the screen.
Like I said, I won't even demand any monetary compensation for my brilliant ideas. Just a credit, maybe some tickets. I'm a reasonable man.