Daniel Descalso
Dear Daniel,
May I call you that? I feel as though we know each other well enough to be on a first name basis. Well, I feel like I know you, anyway.
I must admit, I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time. Last season, when you were finally called up from Memphis, I did the same little dance I do for all the Cardinals draft picks who actually make it to the big club. I was proud of you. You see, I love seeing our guys succeed. It’s a beautiful thing. After nearly four years in the system, it was about time.
Spring training this year was no different. I had high hopes of you making it onto the roster for Opening Day, given just how impressed I’d been by your 2010 performance, and the wait to find out if you had was kind of excruciating. Had to make me wait until the last possible second, huh? That Monday in March, as I was counting down to finally being back in Busch Stadium, well, I might have cheered out loud in my office in reading that you would actually be there. I don’t feel bad for that.
Those first few games were a little rough, seeing the team try to come together after Waino’s injury, but like any hopeful fan at the beginning of a beautiful new season, I was back in the Stadium watching you guys again less than a week later. You may not like to remember this particular game against the Pirates, as your name is unfortunately listed as the very last out, but I saw something far different that day.
While that one little line may not mean much to most, this particular defensive play of yours was to be the spark that ignited my undying devotion to you, and what might very well have been the precursor to your continual entrances into games in a defensive capacity. That line drive looked so much like it was going to get past you as one of those obnoxiously “just fair” balls and yet, in the flashiest of flashes, you sprawled out parallel to the ground and came up with that ball, denying another base runner.
My jaw dropped all the way out in the right field bleachers. I turned to my friend and immediately said, “That does it. Would you like to join the Daniel Descalso fan club? Because I’m starting it right now.” So it was, and so it began.
The season blossomed, as did my joy every time you stepped onto that diamond. No matter what position LaRussa had you slated to play, watching that 33 bobbing out from the dugout put an instant smile on my face.
I definitely did a happy dance when I saw this picture
The thing that I clung to about you that has endeared me to you so has been the effort you bring to the field every single day. You have reminded me on countless occasions of one of my favorite past Cardinals, David Eckstein.
Maybe it was the duplicate numbers you both sport(ed). Perhaps it’s the same grin seen so frequently on your faces, the ones that just exude happiness. There should never be any doubt to the fact that you absolutely love what you get to do every single day.
I think, though, that the quality I found in both of you that has guaranteed a place forever in the “favorite Cardinals” section of my heart was YOUR heart. Every single day, no matter the situation, no matter the circumstance, you gave your all. Every single bit of it. I never once doubted your drive to be on that diamond, doing everything you could to make sure you were out there no matter what.
You may not be the flashiest of offensive players, but you know what? It doesn’t matter to me. You’re consistent, and if it’s not too forward, that OBP of yours is pretty sexy too. Well, and there was this.
Then there’s the defense. Oh my goodness, the defense. There’s the this:
And the that:
And the countless other plays that left me speechless, jaw dropped, so exhilarated at what I had just seen that I could not find the words to describe it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am capable of using a lot of words. Rendering me speechless is quite the feat, yet somehow you’ve been able to do so on a fairly regular basis.
I’ll never forget the day you joined Twitter. The news hit my timeline kind of like a bomb, as no fewer than ten people pointed out your account to me, and then continued to mention it for the next few days. For the rest of the season, I’d get a mention if you’d do something spectacular, as though my fellow Cardinals fans were hell bent on making sure I was watching (I usually was) and adoring you more than before (I did).
I was mostly excited to be able to get a glimpse into your life outside of the field, but then you shocked me even more than before. You mentioned Kid Cudi and The Wire, two of my favorite things ever, within a pretty short time span. If I had admired you before, it was nothing compared to how amazing you were then.
See look, we DO have things in common!
As the postseason hit and you shifted into the role of defensive substitution for one Mr. Freese, I was saddened at how little I was able to watch you play, but so proud of all of you for playing in general. As we watched Freeser step up to accept his MVP awards, there were the little jokes running rampant, wondering if you’d jump in half way through his speech to finish it out.
You see, we as a fan base did not overlook your contributions. You were who Tony trusted. You are who WE trust. If I had my way, I would see you both on that field every single day. Period.
After the most ridiculous run I’ve ever seen in a postseason, you tweeted:
I think here’s where you need to be corrected. You see, it is not you who should be thanking us. We should be pouring out unto you our most heartfelt gratitude.
You and your teammates brought us something that just a couple months prior was nothing more than the hopes of the naively optimistic, the types of dreams you see come to fruition only in Disney movies. Yet somehow, some way, you made it possible. You made this year more than any other year in my entire life the one where I have had the most fun as a Cardinals fan. Truth be told, the 2006 World Series doesn’t hold a candle to this one.
So THANK YOU. Thank you for giving us your all, every time. Thank you for wearing the Birds on the Bat. Thank you for playing whatever your role may be every single day willingly and without complaint. Thank you for the banter between yourself, Jon Jay, and David Freese on Twitter. Thank you for the moments that made me heart stop. Thank you for smiling. Thank you for being part of a team that I will never, ever forget. And thank you for bringing that trophy back to this wonderful city that I love. Thank you for #11in11.
It has been an absolute pleasure cheering for you this year. I cannot wait to see you back in action again in April.
Love,
Ann
Ann is the Senior St Louis Blues reporter at You’re My Boys, Blues. You can follow her on Twitter @annabelle151. She might have lost her voice after Game Six of the World Series, but she definitely cried after Game Seven. She is not ashamed of that fact.
