St. Louis Sports Blog

My mother's favorite baseball player of all time is Bruce Sutter. I'm too young to really remember, but apparently she had quite a thing for the man with the best beard in the biz back in the early 80s. 

I usually reserve the Card of the Week for some ballplayer who has just done something extraordinary. This week, though, I thought we might do something just a little bit different. 

Thirty-five years ago, on June 12, 1970, Pittsburgh Pirate and future Texas Rangers pitcher Dock Ellis found himself in the Los Angeles home of a childhood friend named Al Rambo. Two days earlier, he'd flown with the Pirates to San Diego for a four-game series with the Padres. He immediately rented a car and drove to L.A. to see Rambo and his girlfriend Mitzi. The next 12 hours were a fog of conversation, screwdrivers, marijuana and, for Ellis, amphetamines. He went to sleep in the early morning, woke up sometime after noon and immediately took a dose of Purple Haze acid. Ellis would frequently drop acid on off days and weekends; he had a room in his basement christened "The Dungeon," in which he'd lock himself and listen to Jimi Hendrix or Iron Butterfly "for days."

"Dock," she said. "You're supposed to pitch today."

Ellis focused his mind. No. Friday. He wasn't pitching until Friday. He was sure.

"Baby," she replied. "It is Friday. You slept through Thursday."

Ellis remained calm. The game would start late. Ample time for the acid to wear off. Then it struck him: doubleheader. The Pirates had a doubleheader. And he was pitching the first game. He had four hours to get to San Diego, warm up and pitch. If something didn't happen in the interim, Dock Philip Ellis, age 25, was about to enter a 50,000-seat stadium and throw a very small ball, very hard, for a very long time, without the benefit of being able to, you know, feel the thing.

McAlester profiles Ellis via that performance against the San Diego Padres, ending with the retired pitcher in the here-and-now -- well, given that it was three years ago, the here-and-then -- telling how Ellis continued to use drugs until shortly after the birth of his son in the late 1970s, and had gone on to work as a prison drug counselor.

Today, we finish up our cardboard tour of the 2008 Award Winners with the American League Most Valuable Player. We had a Pujols card a while back, so rather than duplicate Albert, I thought we'd go with the mouse that roars, Dustin Pedroia.

'Tis the season of awards, the season when, each year, the magical faeries at the Baseball Writers Association of America vote on the various awards given out to players throughout the land. (Well, technically, the magical faeries that actually play and manage the games vote on some of them, and the somewhat less magical faeries who make up the Internet voting public vote on still others.)

The time of year when, each and every time, some Cardinal player is shafted. This year it was Albert and the Gold Gloves already. Of course, there's still time for Albert to receive an even more insulting slight; the MVP's are still on the way.

Cliff Lee

And so, Cliff Lee, you titan of the mound, you are our featured player today on the Card of the Week. Congratulations. You have done what few other men have done. You have garnered the attention of an internet hack who writes a sports column for a regional alternative journal. You, sir, are truly the man.