Tommorrow I won't be such a poor sport.

Tommorrow, I wont want the beautiful city of St. Louis to be reduced to a heap of radioactive waste including that stupid unfinished McDonalds sign.

Tommorrow I won't question Albert Pujols'es sexual preference.

Tommorrow I won't want the next announcer to talk about the wonderful fans of St. Louis and Boston to pull a Mama Cass on some St Louis BBQ or Boston Baked beans.

Tommorrow I won't wish any ill will on everyone ever associated even fleetingly with St. Louis, including my favorite ex girlfriend, Marshall Faulk, Ozzie Smith and Ted Simmons.

Tommorrow I won't question the paternity of Scott Rolens unborn child.


Tommorrow I will remember Womack and Tavarez playing with pain and Edmonds miracle catch and the Astros valliant effort....

But for tonight I am the sorest of sore losers.