It somehow escaped my notice that the 2013 World Series begins tonight.

My life is too busy to watch, but truth be told I’ve lacked interest in baseball since the Brewers were eliminated from contention around April 15. (If you think that’s bad, the Cubs were eliminated from contention during spring training.) I was mildly interested in seeing if the great Vin Scully could get to call a World Series, but his employer, the Dodgers, failed to follow through.

This World Series features Boston and St. Louis, two iconic franchises, who met in the 1946, 1967 and 2004 World Series. Here is a perspective on the Cardinals from, of all places, New York:

The Evil Empire just doesn’t feel so daunting anymore, winning just one title since the last year of the ’90s dynasty. It feels like the mandate has mutated. We aren’t about product as much as profit. And then we lose Mo and Andy, taking with them the remnants of the glory, Torre days.

There’s a crack in Darth Vader’s mask. And the St. Louis Cardinals have slipped through it, blooming like a rose from Middle America.

While the Yankees lick their wounds and grab their wallet, the Cardinals are deep into another fall run toward the Fall Classic. If they can squeeze out four games against the talented but tormented Dodgers, St. Louis will be the hub of America’s pastime yet again.

And they do it with a fraction of our budget and our bombast.

St. Louis loses their two pillars – Tony LaRussa and Albert Pujols – and didn’t drop a rung. They do it the right way, their players are spawned by perhaps the most fertile farm system in baseball. You don’t know who they are until you see them whacking clutch home runs in the playoffs. Then they sprinkle the roster with seasoned, team-first free agents.

The Cardinals, who have their mail forwarded to October, have been to the postseason 25 times. They have 11 rings, including two in six years. The Yanks won their first World Series in 1923; the Cards won their first in 1926, beating the Bronx Bombers. And they beat New York two more times, including the iconic 1964 World Series, essentially ending the Mickey Mantle era.

And they play in St. Louis, appropriately placed in the middle of the map, like the aorta of baseball. Almost every player, foreign or domestic, preaches the Cardinal Gospel. St. Louis is a special place, they say, the real Field of Dreams, a pastoral wonderland where players are beloved no matter their last plate appearance.

They don’t even boo their players. This is the land of Stan Musial, who stayed like a spiritual buoy for over 90 years. The land of Bob Gibson and Ozzie Smith. They can find victory in virtue. …

The Cardinals’ lineup reads like a roll call for Bull Durham. Pete Kozma. Matt Adams. Jon Jay. David Freese. Daniel Descalso. Matt Carpenter. Who? Chris Carpenter was their ace. They lose him, and in slides Adam Wainwright. They lose Pujols, and here comes Carlos Beltran.