Buffa's Buffet: 5 things on my mind

The second COVID-19 booster shot punches like Canelo.

I’m protected yet sore as a 40-year-old weary-minded copy dude, so let’s get to what’s on my mind while the mind sits in one place. Commencing opinion mode now…

The Cardinals shouldn’t trade Lars Nootbaar for any catcher not named Sean Murphy. In a perfect world, St. Louis could flip the ultimate utility outfielder and a couple other players for the two-time Gold Glove-winning Oakland catcher. Sweepstakes are brewing for the doubles machine (37 last season), and he would solve a few offensive issues and handle the pitching staff with golden care.

But if I had to choose between trading Nootbaar and Tyler O’Neill this offseason, I’d vote for the latter. Yes, the team could benefit from 2021 O’Neill. A two-time Gold Glove winner himself, the injury-prone outfielder posted a WAR over 5.0 and carried the team for a huge stretch. They don’t make the playoffs that year without him.

The 2022 squad could have advanced with some of his lumberjack treatment of endangered baseballs. O’Neill was on the Injured List when the Cards were blanked by Philadelphia, the National League World Series representative. Along with a cold Paul Goldschmidt, St. Louis couldn’t score. Nootbaar had more hits than Paul.

In only 58 games, “Noot” produced a 2.2 WAR and 126 OPS+, providing the spark that the team needed. He’s also cost-controlled until 2028, which serves a Cardinals outfield in transition some wiggle room. Alec Burleson will get some exposure next year and an infielder could end up logging some OF innings, but the identity of the unit is to be determined.

Harrison Bader is gone and Dylan Carlson is in his place, but O’Neill’s disappointing 2022 season and the upcoming arrival of Jordan Walker paints a fog over the starting outfield in 2023. If the Cards do big high on Trea Turner and swap extra outfielders for a catcher not named Murphy, getting Nootbaar some innings could serve them well.

But hey, I’m just a sports blogger shouting into the void. Let’s switch gears, and get real here.

Last night, in a desperate attempt to kill two birds with one stone, it was my forehead that caught the stone dead on. After a stressful day at work, I joined my wife to get our shots-also known as COVID-19 boosters and flu injections-at the neighborhood Walgreens. You can’t walk into the Hampton/Chippewa location without being blinded by the interrogation-type light, and encountering an angry older male around the pharmacy pickup.

An insurance claim wasn’t found. Medicine wasn’t provided. Oh shit ensues. Everyone needs a few pieces of chocolate to settle down. All the while, I get my shots and wake up the next day to a whole new kind of soreness. Body aches, forehead “go fuck yourself” compression, and an overall need to delete the day and hide under a blanket. After getting three pandemic-commenced shots with minimal side effects, I caught a brick. It felt like half of Canelo’s left hook.

You’re damn right John Candy should have at the very least received consideration for an Academy Award for his work in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.” And it’s not just for the heartbreaking and ultimately breathtaking hotel scene with Steve Martin--who was the perfect foil for Candy’s tender-hearted tricks. That scene is a gem, but this nomination would be for the entire Del Griffith performance.

The talker who overwhelms Martin’s glib businessman. The grieving widow who doesn’t know how to operate in a world without his wife, so he buries the grief under an exuberance that doesn’t sit right with everybody. If there was one misconception about the late Candy, who died of a heart attack at too young of an age 28 years ago, it was that he could only do comedy.

"Planes” took that idea and smashed it against a wall. Candy’s heart and wit was on full display as Del, the life of the party who overcame a harsh reality with positivity, even in the face of a bully. Raise a damn glass. Fucking heart disease!

I refuse to get into politics even a shade deep (maybe in a future *PAID* only post), but don’t be a bit surprised that Captain Ginger Brown Stain is running again. The world runs on money and making as much of it as humanly fucking possible, so that attribute puts you know in on the ballot right there. We’re one of MANY free countries, but we’re also predictable. We’re halfway to that reality manifesting.

One chug of herbal tea and a big hit of a disposable Mary Jane vape later, let’s talk about food as my stomach starts to stomp. I find myself yearning for Matt Borchadt’s outstanding roast beef sandwich at Edibles and Essentials, but it’s currently not on the menu. (PSS… the French fries and fried ribs are completely worth a trip.)

What would we do without good food and eternal music? I don’t even want to know. No matter how I feel, a good song lifts the day and a good meal picks up a bad week and swings it across the Mississippi River. Be safe and warm, my friends.

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