Cardinals Become a Running Joke

It’s a hidden hex, so obscure it has never been uttered until now, so secret that, well, OK, I just made it up.

But what has happened in the World Series on Tuesday night turned baseball voodoo on its shrunken bobblehead, and there’s only one way to explain it.

The Curse of the Bambino met the Curse of the Oquendo.

As in, Jose Oquendo, the St. Louis Cardinal third base coach, at whose feet occurred as much carnage in five minutes as Red Sox fans have endured for 86 years.

While Boston’s legendary pain could end as soon as today, the Cardinal sins are far from repented after a three-run loss in which they committed three runs worth of baserunning blunders around third base.

Jeff Suppan froze. Albert Pujols wandered. Larry Walker gambled. Dust flew, tags thwacked, rallies were mugged, scoreboards were stuck and, for the first time anybody can remember, Cardinal fans actually booed.

“Yeah,” said Oquendo, staring into space. “What we did out there on the bases pretty much changed everything.”

Changed the face of the series after the Red Sox won, 4-1, to take a 3-0 series lead.

Changed, potentially, the athletic landscape as the Red Sox are but nine innings from ending one of sports’ most enduring horror shows.

Changed the perception of the Cardinals from smart guys to bird brains.

“To play well for so long in the season, then to have something happen like that?” Oquendo said. “Man, it hurts.”

Flash back to the bottom of the first inning, the Red Sox leading by a run, one out, Pedro Martinez in trouble after loading the bases with two walks sandwiched around an infield single.

Jim Edmonds hit a fly ball to shallow left field that Manny Ramirez caught for the second out.

But wait ...

There’s Pujols, idly strolling between second and third base.

There’s Walker, standing on third base, realizing Pujols would be thrown out on a simple throw to the cutoff man.

There’s Walker shaking his head, shrugging, running home ... and being thrown out by one of the most erratic defensive players to ever step on a World Series field.

End of inning, Martinez so relieved he actually pats Walker on the back as he runs from the field.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Walker said. “Albert was hanging out there, he was a sure out, I figured I’d take a chance and try to steal a run. There was no way I was going otherwise.”

Ramirez catches that ball while wearing a Red Sox uniform any time during the previous 85 years, he probably throws it into the Mississippi River.

Anybody want to argue now that this year is different?

The point was driven home -- actually, about 89 feet short of home -- two innings later.

The score was still 1-0, Martinez was still scuffling, Suppan had just beaten out a soggy grounder, Trot Nixon just splashed on to his rear end in right field, the Cardinals had runners on second and third with none out.

Conceding the tying run, the Red Sox played the infield back.

Knowing they were doing this, Oquendo whispered to Suppan at third base that he would be scoring on a ground ball.

Not being a regular baserunner, and it being his first World Series, Suppan heard only this: Blah, blah, blah.

So when Walker hit the grounder to second baseman Mark Bellhorn, Suppan took several steps down the baseline and froze.

“At that point, I started yelling at him, ‘Go! Go! Go!’ ” Oquendo said.

What Suppan heard now was: No! No! No!

So he remained frozen until he saw that Bellhorn casually threw to first baseman David Ortiz for one out, then saw that a stunned Ortiz was going to throw to third base for a double play.

Then, he dived back.

And, of course, was tagged out.

Not only did he cost them his run, he probably cost them a second run because if he had scored, Edgar Renteria would have advanced to third base, where he was sprinting before realizing Suppan wasn’t going anywhere.

Where was Suppan going, anyway?

“I just screwed up the play, period,” he said afterward, gamely facing question after question.

But what ... ?

“I don’t know how to describe it or explain other than, I screwed it up,” he said, repeating that phrase five times in a two-minute period.

Martinez, however, had a way to describe it.

A jolt of oxygen. A second chance.

“It was a break, and we took advantage of it,” he said. “Once they didn’t score in that inning, I said, ‘It’s up to me now.’ ”

Sure enough, after Suppan’s mistake, Martinez retired his final 13 batters, with only one of them even hitting the ball out of the infield.

“I’m sure it pumped Pedro up,” Walker said.

While deflating the Cardinals, who, while apparently taking nothing else from the Red Sox this series, can at least now claim ownership to the Boston clubhouse nickname.

You know. “The Idiots.”

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.