October 7th, 2019 was the last time the St. Louis Cardinals won a home playoff game. I was in attendance that day, and it’s a game that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
But it’s not for the reason you may think.
The Cardinals hosted the Atlanta Braves in Game 4 of the 2019 National League Division Series that day on the brink of elimination, trailing the series 2-1. I had bought two tickets several weeks prior, and there was only one person I wanted to go with.
My dad.
Bob Sontag was a very quiet person and never a big conversationalist. He told me a story about one time when he was a kid that an adult asked him, “Bobby, why are you so quiet?”
He replied matter-of-factly, “Because I don’t have anything to say.”
A man of few words – that was my dad.
My dad and I didn’t usually have free-wheeling conversations with quick, fun, back-and-forth banter like I have with some of my close friends. But that’s okay. My dad and I were both wired as introverts, so we were always very comfortable in silence or less frequent conversation.
But one topic that would always get us chatty is the Cardinals.
My dad and I have always LOVED baseball. It’s one thing we always bonded over as long as I can remember. After all, I was born in 1982 – a Cardinals World Championship season.
Whether it’s discussing the game we’re watching, talking strategy, debating managerial moves, or me making my dad crack up by reading him Mike Shannon’s famous Shannonisms… there’s always something to talk about when it comes to the Cardinals. And man, have we sure been lucky to have a lot of memorable games to discuss over the years.
As I mentioned earlier, October 7th, 2019 was Game 4 of a playoff series against the Braves. The last time the Cardinals played the Braves in a Game 4 of a playoff series, it was 23 years prior - and I was in attendance with my dad that day as well.
It was Game 4 of the 1996 National League Championship Series, and my dad was taking me downtown to see my first ever playoff game. I was 14 years old, and it was the first time the Cardinals had made the playoffs since I was old enough to enjoy it. Their last playoff appearance had been in 1987 when I was only 5 years old, so the ‘96 season was the most exciting one I had experienced up to that point.
I can remember the details like it was yesterday.
The Cardinals led that best-of-seven series 2-1 against a loaded Braves team, and Game 4 didn’t start out well. The Cardinals trailed 3-0 late in the game, but a clutch triple from Dmitri Young and a tiebreaking home run by Brian Jordan lifted them to a dramatic, come-from-behind victory and put them one win away from the World Series.
Busch Stadium literally shook from the noise when Young hit the triple, and it shook some more when Jordan went deep. I remember never feeling a stadium shake before. I also remember grabbing onto my dad and hugging him at those big moments and sharing in the euphoria with him. It was pure bliss, and I was hooked on playoff baseball.
Sure the Cardinals blew a 3-1 series lead and got destroyed by a combined score of 32-1 over the final three games (hard to believe that actually happened), but I had a memory with my dad to last a lifetime.
From 1996 to 2015, Cardinals fans experienced 13 playoff appearances, four National League pennants, two World Series championships, and countless incredible memories on the field. We were extremely fortunate and spoiled. But the Cardinals missed the playoffs for three straight years from 2016 to 2018.
When they made it back to the playoffs in 2019, I realized not to take their success for granted. You never know how many more times you’ll get to experience playoff baseball. And back in 2019, I didn’t know how many more times I’d get to experience playoff baseball with my dad.
On July 11th, 2019, my previously perfectly healthy dad suffered a seizure completely out of the blue.
The next day, an MRI revealed a brain tumor.
Three days later, he underwent brain surgery to remove the tumor.
The doctors then determined it was a Grade 3 anaplastic astrocytoma.
Brain cancer.
A nine-month process of chemo and radiation was recommended as treatment, and my dad started that process in late August 2019.
As the MLB playoffs approached, I didn’t think I was going to be able to go with my dad to any games. I thought by that point he would be experiencing nausea and exhaustion, but surprisingly to me, those side effects of the treatment hadn’t popped up yet. So I took the day off work for Game 4 and was pleasantly surprised to be able to take my dad to the game that afternoon.
The weather was picture perfect. Sunny and 70 degrees. Literally not a cloud in the sky. A chamber of commerce day. Couldn’t have been better.
I took my dad to his radiation appointment that morning at Siteman Cancer Center in South County. We were already decked out in our Cardinals gear and were going to head straight downtown afterwards. As I sat in the waiting room while my dad was getting his radiation, I thought to myself I hope I’m doing the right thing taking him to the game.
The only time my dad had experienced a side effect from the chemo was the most recent time I was at a Cardinals game with him. Our family went to the game on Labor Day in 2019. It was a day game and very hot that afternoon. My dad had a cup of coffee in his hand, but he dropped it and spilled it all over himself because he started to experience numbness in his hands. One of the things I have learned about brain tumors is that some side effects can come out when the person is over-stimulated. With a playoff game sure to be very crowded, very loud, and very intense, I was hoping I wasn’t making a mistake.
Then on the way down to the game, one of the MoDOT signs in South County said there was an accident at 55 and Potomac that had the three right lanes closed. Typically in a situation like that, I would ask my passenger to get on Google Maps on their phone and tell me the best way to go, but my dad never had a smartphone and never knew how to work one.
My dad had said he doesn’t want a smartphone because he just wants to live a simpler life. I gotta tell ya… I was jealous of him for that. I think that’s the move. I applaud him for thinking that way.
I didn’t want to check my phone myself while driving because it’s unsafe and I know that makes my dad nervous. So I did the old-school thing without using a phone and got off the highway at an earlier exit to get on some side streets and head downtown that way.
I was planning on taking my dad out to lunch at one of the cool restaurants downtown or in Soulard, but my dad had a Panera gift card and said let’s just go there. Fair enough for me. That’s my dad - a simple guy that isn’t flashy and doesn’t need much to be happy.
When we got to the register to place our order, my dad said, “I’ll have a panini.”
The very kind and patient cashier asked him, “Which one?”
My dad replied with the menu right above him, “What kind do you have?”
Without skipping a beat, the very kind and patient cashier started rattling off the details of all the various paninis they carry before my dad finally picked one.
Then when it was my turn to order, I quickly without hesitation told her, “I’ll take a you-pick-two with a frontega chicken sandwich with no tomato and no onion, a cup of broccoli and cheddar soup, chips as the side, and a cup for water.”
I could tell her demeanor changed slightly when she knew she was now talking to someone that she didn’t have to help through the ordering process.
My dad went to swipe his gift card as she was asking me, “Do you have a Rewards card?” She stopped to kindly tell my dad, “Oh sir, not yet.”
I told her that I did and my dad stopped so I could punch in my phone number. Then he again tried to prematurely swipe his card one more time before we got it done on the third time.
I share the details of the ordering food experience and the traffic jam on 55 because it was a reminder to me that in a world that continues to go faster and faster, my dad didn’t know how to go faster. I remember it being a cause for celebration when we finally taught him how to program the VCR back in the day.
For someone like my dad that never had a smartphone and didn’t have the Panera menu memorized, I would imagine it’s uncomfortable many times when the world is moving at a pace that you’re not accustomed to – in particular when you just had your brain operated on less than three months prior. It can be overwhelming.
I always loved that my dad appreciated the simpler things in life, and I got the sense he appreciated them even more after his diagnosis. After Panera, we parked at my office and walked down to 360, which is a rooftop bar at the Hilton at the Ballpark hotel. It provides incredible views of the city, especially on a perfect day like that one.
I’d been to 360 more times than I could count, so it wasn’t a big deal to me. But this was the first time for my dad, and he absolutely loved the view. While I was at the bar ordering a drink, he just walked around the restaurant taking in the different views of the city. My dad would do that a lot when out with other people. He’d just wander off by himself for a few minutes as if to take a break from all the noise and conversation just to enjoy some peace and quiet. I loved seeing him enjoying himself and taking it all in.
We grabbed a couple chairs and sat down. My dad took off his hat, and I don’t know if it was the way the sun was hitting him or what it was, but I was struck by something… all of a sudden my dad looked old to me. I’d never really thought of my dad as old before. But I could see the wrinkles. I could see a look in his eyes that had become familiar to me since he had the seizure.
Everything he had gone through had taken a toll. Cancer is A LOT – physically, mentally, and emotionally. My dad also didn’t have a ton of hair left anyway as a 66-year-old man, but that day was the first time I’d noticed that the chemo and radiation had taken some of what remained.
It sounds weird, but for the few weeks before the game as my dad had been doing well with his treatment and not experiencing nausea and exhaustion, I’d almost tricked my mind into forgetting that he was sick.
But for whatever reason in that moment sitting at 360, it hit me. There was no more forgetting it. This was real, it was happening, and he had the fight of his life on his hands. It was a reminder for me to do what my good friend and Domesticated Gamblers co-host Shawn Surwillo told me when I informed him of my dad’s diagnosis.
“Enjoy every moment.”
Those three words stuck with me. Whatever time I had left with my dad, I was going to enjoy it. And what better place to enjoy it than at Busch Stadium watching the Cardinals in the playoffs.
Call me cheesy and over-dramatic, but looking back at that Game 4 in 2019 against the Braves, I view it as a metaphor for my dad’s life.
The Cardinals jumped out to an early lead with back-to-back homers from Paul Goldschmidt and Marcell Ozuna in the 1st inning. Dakota Hudson was pitching well. Everything looked rosy. It felt like it was going to lead to a comfortable win. Everything was going according to plan.
Then about midway through, the Cardinals got punched in the mouth and knocked on the canvas. A lot of things went wrong all at once in one inning, and a 3-1 lead turned into a 4-3 deficit.
Late in the game, you could feel the tension and the urgency. The Cardinals were still down 4-3 in the 8th inning. We were running out of time – six outs away from the season coming to an end.
My dad, straying away from his quiet and reserved self, started to get more vocal with his cheering. He took the hood of his hooded sweatshirt and put it over his head and dubbed it the “rally hood” as he waved his rally towel above his head. With the heart of the lineup coming up, I felt cautiously optimistic. I honestly remember thinking, “This season can’t die with my dad here.”
Two out in the 8th, Goldy on second, still down one run, and who came up?
Yadier Molina.
The old veteran. The definition of toughness. He pretty much feels like a member of the family because he was on the TV in my house every night for six months for nearly 20 years. Come to think of it, I’ve probably watched Yadi play more baseball games than any other player I’ve ever watched.
Yadi looped a ball towards Freddie Freeman at first base. It was going to be close whether it would be caught. Freeman jumped, but it nicked off his glove and went into right field. Goldy scored. Tie game.
New life.
I felt so relieved just to have another chance to enjoy some more moments. And even when those moments look bleak (like when Carlos Martinez gave up a leadoff double in the 9th), you can still fight, scratch, claw, and move forward.
And not only can you fight the fight, but you can win the fight. And who better to win the fight than Yadi – the heart and soul of the team that drove in the winning run in the 10th inning with an act of selflessness in a sacrifice fly. My dad was always the most selfless person I know, so it was good to see a reminder that day that selflessness can be rewarded.
With cancer, some people are fortunate enough to beat it by overcoming the illness and going on to live a long and healthy life.
But for many people, overcoming the illness just isn’t in the cards. And unfortunately for my dad, that is the category he fell in.
Bob Sontag’s battle with brain cancer came to an end when he passed away on December 26th, 2020.
But I still contend that my dad won his fight.
As the late Stuart Scott once so eloquently said, “When you die, it does not mean that you lose to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.”
My dad was kind, calm, patient, compassionate, and empathetic. As a man who spent his professional life as a social worker, his passion for putting other people first left a lasting legacy. There are many social workers both here in St. Louis and across the country who credit my dad as being a huge influence in both their personal and professional lives.
And of course my dad left an indelible imprint on me. He taught me how to be a man. He showed me how to be a great dad. And he gave me the beautiful experience of a father and son bonding over Cardinals baseball.
I’m sometimes asked by people, “Geezo Eric, why do you love sports so much?”
That incredible day of October 7th, 2019 was a perfect example of why.
Sports in general and Cardinals baseball in particular create amazing opportunities for people to connect. Some of the best memories of my life - and I’m sure some of yours - have taken place inside Busch Stadium.
It’s where an entire community can come together.
It’s where you can run into the person that becomes the love of your life like I was lucky enough to do 13 years ago.
And it’s where a father and son can create another lifelong memory just like they did in the same place 23 years previously.
Immediately after Yadi hit the sacrifice fly to win the game, I started tearing up not because the Cardinals won, but because I got to share the experience with my dad.
As the Cardinals mobbed Yadi on the field, I hugged my dad tightly and told him, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
I meant it in every way possible.
Eric Sontag hosts Domesticated Gamblers every Friday on the STL Sports Central YouTube channel. Follow him on X @GamblingDads, and click here for his daily picks on all of our St. Louis area sports teams. Disclaimer