Sorry, Elvis: Nothing Left the Building This Night

“I’m gonna catch me some history.”

Glenn Whittle is a tattooed air-conditioning man and Elvis impersonator from a small town in central Missouri.

The other day, in a backyard, his buddy’s dog dug up a small black baseball glove.

His buddy told Elvis it was an omen.

His buddy told him to take the glove two hours east to St. Louis and see Mark McGwire.

So there Elvis sat, in the Busch Stadium left-field seats, wearing long black jeans and a long-sleeve shirt in 90-degree syrup, putting a glove that didn’t fit on a hand that hasn’t caught a baseball in years.

“I’m gonna catch me some history.”

McGwire came to home plate four times Friday against the Cincinnati Reds.

Four times, a 49,625-seat building became a still life.

The concession stands went vacant. Bathrooms emptied. Fans stood in their seats, stood in the aisles, took so many pictures the subsequent popping of flashbulbs made it look like McGwire’s bat was conducting lightning.

Everyone going to catch them some history.

That feels like the point here, one day into the final stretch of the most-scrutinized record pursuit in sports history.

McGwire’s chase toward Roger Maris’ single-season record of 61--he has 59 with 22 games left--is not about about home runs and power, but something far more rare in sports.

It’s about inclusion. It’s about those blue suede shoes in the left-field seats, the millions watching at home on television, the folks you heard discussing it today at the grocery store.

This is no longer about only McGwire doing it, it’s about us doing it, living vicariously through his achievement under pressure we cannot even imagine.

On Friday here, they were not only his at-bats, they were an entire city’s at-bats, maybe an entire nation’s at-bats.

When he flied out in the first inning against Pete Harnisch, the groan could be heard halfway to Chicago.

In the third inning, there were boos at the one ball, gasps at the three strikes.

In the fifth inning, the full-count high fastball by Harnisch that walked McGwire appeared tantamount to an obscene gesture, such were the jeers.

In the seventh inning, with three consecutive strikes against side-arming Scott Sullivan, the place seemed to sink in one large sigh.

“A very distracting game to pitch,” Harnisch said. “They cheer like crazy when he’s on deck, they cheer even louder when he bats, there’s five billion flashbulbs . . . “

And they all brought their gloves.

There was Carla Sitzes, who buses tables at a local restaurant and showed up in the left-field seats with a shiny black model.

“Bought it last night, 20 bucks,” she said. “Can’t catch a ball without a glove.”

There was Craig Siebert, a St. Louis salesman who spent the afternoon in a panic. For 30 minutes before leaving the house, he looked for a glove he had not used in 20 years.

“The garage, the basement, the attic, everywhere,” he said.

His wife finally rescued him by pulling out her old glove, which he toted along like a gem.

“I’m going to catch it, then give it to him just long enough for him to sign it for me,” Siebert said, chuckling. “Then I’m taking it back.”

Everyone going to catch them some history. During Cardinal batting practice, fans stormed through the lower-level seats to line up six deep by the railing along the left-field line.

Considering it is impossible for McGwire to hit a homer there, many wondered if the fans knew something nobody else knew.

Well, they did.

Just before batting practice, McGwire ran to the edge of the field to sign their autographs.

He carried his own pen, and he didn’t just sign nice white balls. He signed old programs, wrinkled posters, and one child’s school notebook. For 15 minutes he signed, then ran to the batting cage for a standing ovation.

Once there, with each of McGwire’s batting practice swings, the entire Red team stopped warming up and watched.

Everyone going to catch them some history.

Which makes you wonder.

How does one man do it? How does one man accomplish arguably the hardest single act in sports --a home run--with the nation holding its breath on every twitch?

Granted, his shoulders are huge, but how has one man been able to carry the hopes of an entire sports world for so long?

“There is a word for what I think about this, but I don’t know what it is,” Cardinal Manager Tony La Russa said. “It goes way beyond amazed. I mean, this has been going on every day since spring training.”

It is easier for Sammy Sosa. He is not supposed to be here. His focus can be on making the playoffs, home runs can just happen. He happily acts as if there is no pressure because, well, there is none.

Not here. Friday’s game featured two teams with no playoff hopes who were a combined 15 games under .500. McGwire’s ability to hit a homer is the only story here. For 15 of the final 22 games, it will be the only story.

Only their encounters with the Cubs and Houston Astros will mean anything else to anyone else.

How does one man do it? And even needing only three homers in probably around 80 at-bats, can one man keep doing it?

Before the game, covered by more than 600 media members, McGwire stood them all up. He refused to show up for a planned interview session for one of the first times this year.

Some were quick to say he is finally buckling under the pressure. Considering he still signed the autographs, still tossed balls in the stands after each inning in the field, still chatted with opposing players at first base, this observation seems premature.

But this unique relationship still bears watching.

Everyone going to catch them some history.

Mark McGwire feeling like the only man who can give it to them.