As the Cardinals search for premium pitching, I miss a true ace

Insert this guy into the situation, and the fog would clear up.

Chris Carpenter pitched like he was mad at the world, and I mean everybody. The person who didn’t get out of his way driving to the ballpark, the eggs that didn’t cook right, and the last team that felt the need to score runs on him. Every time he was heading to the ballpark to pitch, it was the end of Independence Day in his head: Explosions, a stupid thing called a strike zone, one liners, and more explosions.

Carpenter was an explosive pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals, someone you could count on every fifth day to pitch well or at least raise some hell. He graduated from the Bob Gibson pitching school, where intimidation was as strong as an out pitch. The hitter would be terrified before he ever got to the plate, and it didn’t get any better from there. Strike out, and sit down please. Got a hit somehow? Don’t make eye contact and please run into an out at second base in order to avoid the Carp death stare.

Hanley Ramirez once drew a walk off Carpenter, and had the audacity to take his time going to first. It was like j-walking in front of Wyatt Earp with a pistol still strapped to your waist. Carpenter proceeded to bark something at Ramirez, a group of words no one could decipher cleanly but settled out into something like, “hurry up, please!” Carpenter gets mad, and there’s no going back.

He was tough. The man would make a start on short rest, even if it was a World Series game. He threw what he wanted, stared at Tony La Russa often like he had two different colored eyes, and didn’t pity a fool. There was a dependence and reliability in his arm that made a start less of a wish and prayer routine.

He wasn’t just mad. He was mad dog mean. But he backed it all up with performance, innings, and rings. You don’t graduate from the Gibby Academy without being able to get big outs. Carpenter got them every year he was healthy.

The Cardinals don’t have a shot without his wildly stellar September in 2011. For a few weeks, he just got tired of giving up runs and hits, dominating divisional opponents and pretty much anyone who stood in the Cardinals’ path to World Series title #11. They needed his unstoppable presence in 2006 when they pulled off that wildcard-infused heist for #10. We have all played the “what if Carpenter was healthy in 2004” game, as well as the “what if they had him 2013” scenario. It’s painful.

The only thing that could stop Carpenter was himself, or his own body in other words. If he hadn’t suffered nerve damage in his right arm, stubborn enough to make lifting his kids difficult, he would have been out there in 2012-13, and maybe beyond. The thing that plagued the beginning of his career in Toronto came back to haunt his end. It’s been 11 years since he last threw a pitch, retiring at the age of 37 with plenty of willpower left in his heart and mind.

The 2024 Cardinals desperately need a guy like Carp. It’s almost severe enough to ask Tom Cruise to help. They need a couple Carpenters to step up against the Phillies, Braves, and Dodgers of the world-but another individual Carpenter gets them breathing easier again. A guy who gets roughed up, and we call that a rarity. That’s what they need.

Since Carpenter is 48 and very retired, he can’t save the team. If cloning was a thing and had been perfected, ordering up a couple Carps would be wise. His grit, talent, and overall resistance to failure was tenaciously rare. Losing was a toxin to this guy.

I miss that, and hope the Cardinals can find something like Chris Carpenter out there.