The Adam Wainwright Songbook
Coming to terms with the end of Uncle Charlie's career through his new music
I’m not big on music.
Just saying that sentence probably ostracizes me from a good part of society. I have no problem with music, I have songs I like, all that, but it’s never been some integral part of my life. My friend Alex Crisafulli goes to see Pavement and I wonder why he’s listening to his driveway. The cult that hangs on every word Taylor Swift sings is baffling to me. I have music on my phone but 95% of the time I’m listening to podcasts, trying to see what the smart people are saying about the team so I copy them. Music just isn’t a big deal to me.
If music’s not high on my list, country music ranks even lower, though perhaps not as low as it used to and it’s higher than some other forms. There’s no doubt that it can be catchy and I don’t begrudge people that like it, but it’s never been quite my cup of tea. (Also I’m not a tea drinker but only one disqualifying condition at a time, please.)
It speaks to my Cardinal fandom, then, that I spent $3 on iTunes this weekend to grab Adam Wainwright’s limited advance release of his album. The three songs were ear worms but they also are a way to look at the man, the legend, that is Uncle Charlie.
Hey, y’all
How’ve ya been?
How’s your daddy and your momma and them?
Wainwright’s first song, “Hey Y’all”, speaks to his larger-than-life personality. Anybody that plays for the team for 18 seasons is going to have a connection to the fan base but Wainwright’s ingratiating charm made sure that Sunday’s ceremony meant to much to so many.
How many times have we seen Waino give a look, toss off a quip, or just bring out that laugh in the middle of an interview? He was never at a loss for words until this season, when some of his starts were so rough that the light was dimmed. Never extinguished, though. Even in the darkest times, he remained optimistic and hopeful.
I truly think that, if I ever sat down to chat with Adam Wainwright, it would not be long before he asked about my “daddy and momma and them”. Even though he’s never met them (obviously), he has that desire to connect with people. That desire has led to some remarkable things.
Watching the ceremony on Sunday, there wasn’t a lot of talk from the speakers about his on-the-field accomplishments. They were mentioned, of course, and celebrated, but that’s not what people like Chris Carpenter and Albert Pujols and Yadier Molina wanted to talk about. They wanted to talk about Adam Wainwright the person, the person that was always (as the phrase goes) pouring into other people, like he did with Willson Contreras earlier this season.
As a Christian, watching people that claim Christianity on the grand stage is so often disappointing. While we are all sinners and none of us are perfect, those that claim leadership (or have leadership thrust upon them) are held to a higher standard and so often, it falls flat. The concerns of the world, the concerns of the group, outweigh their convictions and the expression of their faith.
Obviously Wainwright is not a perfect person, but he’s one of the best examples of how you are supposed to do Christianity out there. Whether it is using his platform, his time, and his resources to improve life both here in the United States and around the world or mentoring and discipling others in the faith, reaching out to those that need to hear the Word. Carpenter, Skip Schumaker, and Jaime Garcia are just some of the players that have credited their faith journey to the seeds that Waino planted and watered.
“Hey Y’all” is a celebration of that personality as well as that faith. Plus he gets to use “y’all” and “all y’all”, which to this Southerner (who doesn’t have the drawl that Waino has, unfortunately), is much appreciated.
Dixieland Delight, The Thunder Rolls
Neon Moon, Check Yes or No
Straight pouring out of our radio
You think the past is gone but just like that
A song will bring you back
There’s no doubt that music has that flashback quality to it, especially to the songs of our youth. My 30th high school reunion is in a week or so and when the music gets going, playing all the hits of the ‘80s and early ‘90s, the memories will start flowing as well.
It’s not just songs, though. Sometimes music is played with other instruments. In Wainwright’s case, it was a baseball that went from 12 to 6.
That curveball always had the flashback quality to most likely THE moment of his career. Whenever a batter would freeze in the box after another excellent Uncle Charlie, a little tickle would happen in the back of the mind of Cardinals fans.
How crazy is it that a man plays 18 years and probably the first thing 95% of baseball fans think of happened in his second season? The biggest stage, the brightest lights, and then that curveball happened. Wainwright’s indelible image came before he made one major league start.
It’s not like it was all downhill from there, of course. Two hundred wins were still to come. More Cy Young shares than anyone else who never got the hardware. Two 20 wins seasons, two that fell one win short. 2,130 more regular season Ks. Yet even his strikeout of Brandon Inge to lock down the Cardinals’ 10th World Series can’t stand up to that one curveball.
In the future, Tekoah Roby or Tanner Jacobson or Max Rajcic or Tink Hence or Sem Robberse or Inohan Paniagua (this is what happens when you ask Kyle Reis about curveballs in the organization) will be standing on the Busch Stadium mound in the home whites. They’ll take the sign from the catcher and drop in a beautiful curveball that freezes the batter to end the inning.
And the song will bring us back.
It’s time to fly
It’s time to head back home
I might have to go
But I will never been gone
I did what I came here to do
And I love being here with you
But I know in my heart that it’s time
Time to fly
Adam Wainwright was the dad. The old guy that told the jokes, that got a little gray, that held the institutional memory. The guy that was almost double the age of some of his teammates by the end of everything. Dads are great. People love them. Waino is six years younger than me, for goodness sake, and I think of him as a dad.
Dads also are ones that have to know when the serious talk is needed. The one that has to explain why things can’t be the way that they always have been. When someone is sick or the money isn’t there for a trip or a job change is imminent, part of a dad’s job (most of the time) is to be the bearer of bad news.
It’s somewhat cathartic to hear this song from Wainwright. This is the most direct, most personal song of the three (and the one that probably has the least mass appeal—can’t see Cub fans singing along to this, especially at the end) and it’s his way of saying, “It’s time. I’m fine with this. I went out on my own terms.”
There’s at least a few folks that said the Cardinals made a mistake by bringing back Wainwright for one more season. It’s true, they didn’t have to. It’s true, signing a 41-year-old pitcher to a contract is risky and probably not the savviest baseball move. If you are trying to maximize your team, you probably don’t bring him back. You hope he’s ready to go but, if he’s not, you let him walk away and play for the Braves or something like that. That’s the unsentimental, analytical, business move.
Somewhere along the way, though, we’ve gotten to the point where the end is everything. If a group of obnoxious, unlikeable, mean-spirited players can get you to hoist the Commissioner’s Trophy at the end of the season, that’s the way you should go. It’s all about winning, it’s all about the edge, it’s all about doing everything you can to get that one more win.
For me, baseball is entertainment. It’s a story that you hope has a great ending but even if it doesn’t, the characters along the way mean something. Bringing back team legends—true legends, not just long-term Cardinals—like Molina or Pujols or Wainwright brings something besides what they provide on the field. They honor the past, they connect us to the story. While I understand why others would disagree, give me a season like this to honor Wainwright rather than a sterile playoff team. Legacy should be celebrated. As Cardinals fans, we have had so many of these players—if you are old enough, there was Lou Brock and Bob Gibson, for my generation you had Ozzie Smith, and now the Hallowed Three—that we sometimes take for granted what they mean and how really rare they are.
Somehow Adam Wainwright what took what was an iffy marketing slogan from 2019 and turned it into a heartfelt nod to the fans. He’ll be all right. He paraphrased a great Jedi Master who said no one’s ever really gone and there’s no doubt we’ll see him often on our TVs. We’ll be all right. We have the current stars and the next generation and hopefully one of them will continue the legend legacy.
It’s time to fly. But thank you, Adam Wainwright, for making St. Louis your nest for so long.
Well said!