30 YEARS AFTER THE MIRACLE SEASON

This year, though it lies shrouded in the mists of memory, an unforgettably thrilling boyhood experience beckons. That memory is, as Gen. Douglas MacArthur said of a different one, "watered by tears, coaxed and caressed by the smiles of yesterday." It's 1994, and 30 years have passed since 1964's miracle season.

Barney Schultz is 68 years old. Lou Brock is 55, a Hall of Famer and a successful businessman. Ken Boyer, '64's MVP at third base, succumbed to cancer years ago. Bill White, always cool and classy at first base, became the cool and classy voice of the Yankees before ascending to the presidency of the National League. Dal Maxvill, '64's light-hitting reserve but brilliant defensive rookie shortstop, is today's Cardinal GM.

The incomparable Harry Caray, gone from St. Louis since '69, was long since embraced by Chicago fans, where, in his 51st year in broadcasting, he holds forth at Wrigley Field, baseball's venerable North Side shrine. And a whole generation of American youngsters has grown up, knowing Bob Uecker only from some amusing beer commercials, and from whatever his dumb TV program was.

For my generation of St. Louis Cardinal fans, though, nothing will ever quite compare with the championship season of 1964, when an underestimated group of Redbirds fought their way to the flag.

In those days, a mere handful of games were televised, which meant we were dependent, night after night, on the voluble Caray and his droll sidekick Jack Buck, to make the action come alive. As someone has said, thanks to those two, on radio, "the pictures were better."

A team that had just missed out on a pennant in '63 sputtered and faltered through much of the following year. At the midpoint in '64, the Redbirds were 40-41 and seemingly headed nowhere.

On June 15, though, GM Bing Devine secured Manager Johnny Keane's approval to trade pitcher Ernie Broglio to the Cubs for a promising but as-yet unproven outfielder named Lou Brock. The trade was cheered in Chicago -- Broglio had won 18 in '63 -- and booed in St. Louis. Before long, though, as Caray put it, "the Cardinals were making an amazing drive."

Sparked by the speedy Brock, who hit .348 after arriving at Grand and Dodier, the Cardinals went 53-28 in the second half. 1964 ranks among baseball's most incredible comebacks: A team that as late as August was mired in fifth place, trailing by 13 games, clinched the National League pennant on the last day of the season. Gene Mauch's Phillies, league leaders so much of the year, simply collapsed, losing 10 straight in September (including five to the Birds). Cincinnati was in the thick of it, too; as the season's final regular day began, the Reds and Cardinals were tied for first, with Philadelphia only one game back. A very real possibility loomed of a three-way tie and resulting playoff for the flag.

That Sunday afternoon, the Phillies polished off Cincinnati, 10-0, and the Redbirds bounced back to beat the Mets 11-5, sending a packed Sportsman's Park and all St. Louis into its most delirious frenzy since the end of World War II. For this wide-eyed fifth grader, who had seen his first professional game just two years earlier, this piece of good fortune was magic, pure magic.

The World Series would add still more pleasure, as the underdog Redbirds took seven games to whip a New York team ringing down the curtain on 40 years of Yankee dominance. There was the All-Star infield, including Dick Groat and Julian Javier; Ray Washburn and Mike Cuellar and the incomparable Bob Gibson; Curt Flood and Carl Warwick and a rookie named Mike Shannon. Curt Simmons went 18-9, his career high; Ray Sadecki won 20 for the only time in his career. Those Cardinals faced the Yankees of Tom Tresh and Mel Stottelmyre; Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris; Joe Pepitone and Whitey Ford.

The Series memories are vivid: Shannon's homering off the eagle, in left field, to win Game One; Boyer's Grand Slam in Game Four; Tim McCarver's homer in the 10th inning, to win Game Five; Gibson's pitching again, after 48 hours, to make the difference in Game Seven.

As great as the Series was -- make no mistake, it was larger than life to all of us back then -- my fondest memory is of that early October Sunday afternoon, the pennant clincher. Harry Caray's broadcasting the last three innings from Mr. Busch's field box. Barney Schultz's relieving a tired Gibson. McCarver's catching Ed Kranepool's pop foul for the third out in the ninth. Harry Caray, his throat catching, choked with emotion, screaming,

The Cardinals win the pennant!

The Cardinals win the pennant!

The Cardinals win the pennant!