Is it the Curse of the Organ?

Unless the Saint Louis Cardinals can pull off the same feat the Boston Red Sox pulled in the recent American League Championship Series, the Curse of the Bambino is about to expire under baseball's statute of limitations. Down three games to none in the World Series, it appears that the Cardinals, the team with the best regular season record in the majors this year, are about to lose to the Sox.

If they do, it may be explained by the Curse of the Organ. Before the opening of last night's game, fans at the stadium and watching on TV were subjected to an interminable set of introductions. The team physical therapist was even introduced. But what made the ordeal all the more insufferable was the organ music that accompanied it. It was so excruciating that my wife begged me to mute the sound on our TV until the game began. I gladly complied.

How is it that the powers-that-be of a sport in desperate need of attracting young people allowed a Wurlitzer to play such a prominent role in the opening of pivotal Game 3 of the World Series?

Baseball wasn't the only victim though. Saint Louis was given a black eye by the performance as well. After the long organ recital on national TV, it's doubtful that the city has gained a reputation as a hip or compelling tourist destination. After enduring last night's introductions, few husbands likely turned to their wives and said, "Hey, honey, that looks like a fun place. Let's go on Travelocity and book a trip to Saint Louis!"

I've long felt that organs should only be heard in two venues: skating rinks and funeral homes. And I'd rather not hear them there either.

Organs do have their place. The slick Hammond accompaniments on 96 Tears, Whiter Shade of Pale, the Beatles' I'm Looking Through You and I'm Down, or anything by Booker T & the MGs (to date myself) is fine. But Handel and Beethoven put me to sleep and anything else played on an organ sounds to me like Tie a Yellow Ribbon or Rock of Ages. I think frankly, that most people agree.

Nostalgia is sometimes seen as a feature of the new-wave baseball parks in the major leagues and organs would seem to fit that motif. But honestly, I think that it's dangerous to confuse history for nostalgia. People do like to sense that their franchise or that the World Series are parts of a venerable history. It gives them a sense of being involved in something bigger than themselves, that they're members of a special tribe. But organ music is an unwanted vestige of the past, kind of like an infected appendix. Like that useless organ, the best thing to do is to cut organs out of baseball stadia.

Do the unbearable tones of an organ emanating from a ballpark make it impossible for the Cards to win the World Series? Is there really a Curse of the Organ? Only the next eighty-six years will show us.

I'm only half-kidding in all of this and as is true of the 42-foot Jesus I wrote about last week, I'm sure that there are some people for whom the organ--at a ballpark, funeral home, skating rink, or worship service--is just the thing. My sentiments could be way off-key.

But to tell you the truth, while I'm rooting for the Cardinals, if the franchise loses this World Series, the first pink slips should go to the organ and the organist.