Grandma to Tony La Russa: 'Shape Up or Ship Out'

Still drunk and stinking even more so after a 3-mile jog to retrieve my car from the evil clutches of a colleague's-birthday-party parking spot – thanks for the ride this morning, whoever you are – I called up my grandmother in St. Louis.

After the requisite small talk – my cousin will not, in fact, be making it to my brother's wedding; in other news, I'm growing up too fast – we settled into the real reason for our own little Sunday Conversation.

I'm no Margaret Cho or every single other stand-up comedian walking the face of the Earth – not trying to do the funny-family thing here – but what follows is real, people, albeit slightly parsed.

Grandma: ... and they have the game tonight, right?
Me: Yeah, they do.
Grandma: Yesterday was not so entertaining.
Me: No, it wasn't.
Grandma: What happens if they lose?
Me: The Padres would tie up the series and send it back to San Diego for a deciding game 5.
Grandma: Ohhh, Shawn.
Me: I know! It would be best for them to wrap it up tonight and move on.
Grandma: I think it's time for a new coach.
Me: Yeah?
Grandma: How long has he been there?
Me: Ten years.
Grandma: Ten years?!
Me: Yeah. Can you believe it?
Grandma: They're taking things for granted over there. They're doing the best they can, but come on. They need a fresh start.
Me: Maybe so. They should let him resign, though. He doesn't deserve to be fired. But he might want to think about stepping aside at some point soon.
Grandma: And find something new to do.
Me: And find something new to do.
Grandma: Looks like old what's his name is on the way out for the Yankees. The guy who used to play for us.
Me: Joe Torre.
Grandma: That poor man. That owner is so bad.
Me: Yeah.
Grandma: Don't even get me started on our owners.
Me: Something's not right over there, huh?
Grandma: Exactly! Exactly. And I don't feel so good about tonight. Although I shouldn't say that! To tell you the truth, Shawn, I'm not so much a big fan of watching the ballgame. Never have been.
Me: What? Grandpa was, though.
Grandma: Yes, he was. But I always liked the soccer, the volleyball [Chronicle people: I shit you not on either count]. The kids. The football. I do like the football. The Rams. And they play today.
Me: Against the Green Bay Packers?
Grandma: Yes! I enjoy watching them. And I know a few of them now. I'm always better off when I know a few of them.
Me: Let's hope the Cards and the Rams win.

*

Actually, I don't care about the Rams, grandma. But if the Cardinals don't want me to cry and gnash my teeth, they should go ahead and win as soon as possible. Survive and advance, etc. Which reminds me: I cannot wait for college basketball to start.

Elsewhere, the great Jim Leyland and his Detroit Tigers earned their stripes and in the process will keep me happy, when it really comes down to it, in the case of the Cardinals choking (that rings a bell); I really thought the L.A. Dodgers would extend things – some A-hole pond scum Met fan from New Jersey who knew I was rooting for them last night taunted me with false information that they had ... while we're on the subject, who does that?; and the Oakland A's made the grade.

If the Cards follow suit, I'll be four-for-four in my after-two-games-in-each-series predictions, kind of.

Let's all keep up the good work. The last two teams competing in the division series – and, somehow not coincidentally, the two crappiest – send Chris Carpenter and Woody Williams against each other. Both are warriors, but Bruce Bochy must be wondering why he's not playing his ace while La Genius does just that. That's how much the latter has owned him.

But, hey, Bochy finally broke through yesterday, beating Lucky La Ru in the postseason for the first time in nine tries. Niiiiiiiiine tries. In so doing, perhaps he has reasserted himself. Should the Padres come back and shock the Redbirds, grandma will certainly appreciate the irony of Bochy avoiding otherwise certain termination as La Russa's airtight job security is shaken to – as he is fond of describing players like the clearly hurting Scott Rolen – the core.