And it only took 88 years. As a baseball fan, I don’t like to see a sweep but as my father’s daughter couldn’t be happier. Even my mother, the born-and-bred Cubs fan — I come from a mixed marriage — is thrilled. Too, too cool.

Strange to walk in from dinner and find out via the ESPN scroll that Brett Hull’s stellar career came to an end tonight in Phoenix; like many other NHLers of a certain age who had more hockey in them following 2003-04, the long lockout layoff was too much for the now 41-year-old Hull.  He knew, as did anyone who has followed his career, it would be his last hurrah when he signed on with best friend Wayne Gretzky’s Phoenix Coyotes in August 2004. But who would have guessed it would come to an end after only five games and one assist, that he would retire wearing the sweater of the team he played with for the fewest games?

This year’s record forms an odd set of bookends with his first year in the NHL back in 1986-87, when he played five games and earned one point (from a goal).  He left for St. Louis during the following season, arriving with 27 goals and 24 assists to his name. Bobby Hull’s son came into his own in St. Louis, developing from a chunky kid with promise and a famous name into a top-flight player, record-breaker and blunt speaker. I  remember sitting a row back from him during a Bruce Springsteen concert at the Arena in his early days here; only a few of us even knew who he was. A year later, the right wing could barely move through the building without causing a ripple of excitement. Eventually, the Arena’s replacement was dubbed the "House That Hull Built." In 1990-91 he scored 86 goals and 45 assists in a mere 78 games. He broke 100 points four years running and with center Adam Oates provided one of the most electric playmaker/goal scorer duos the game has seen. (I’ve often wondered what the records would look like if the tandem hadn’t been cut short by Oates’ career choices.) 

Only Gretzky and the great Gordy Howe scored more goals in the NHL than Brett Hull, who leaves the game with 741 goals, 650 assists, 1,391 points and 458 penalty minutes in 1,269 games. For trivia buffs, father Bobby ended his career with 610 NHL goals. They are the only father-son with 50 goals in a season, 600-plus goals apiece and, as follows, the highest-scoring father-son tandem. Bobby’s number "9" was retired by the Winnipeg Jets. This season, it was unretired by the team now known as the Phoenix Coyotes so it could be worn by his son.

Trying to quote Hullie often meant sorting out the words that could be quoted in a family paper from his typical stream of f* laden consciousness but he almost always could be counted on to say something worth printing. He’d look at you with a "do I have to" stare, raise an eyebrow and go, sometimes interviewing himself.  His sense of humor was, is demonic, his flair on the ice unmistakable. His joy in being a father was as much a gift to watch as his game on the ice.  He went on to win his Stanley Cups in other uniforms but the bulk of his goals and the bulk of his playing years were spent here — and we were the luckier for it. Of course, it would have been even better if he’d managed to lead the Blues to the promised land.

I watched the last two games of the 2004 World Series from the press box at Busch Stadium — actually the auxillary box as an embed with the SI crew, who made room for a Christian Science Monitor credential holder otherwise slated for the way auxiliary outfield seats.  They weren’t pleasant games to watch for Cardinals fans or anyone who loves a good baseball game. You go to the World Series hungry to see the best, not  a team that doesn’t live up to expectations.  I wasn’t there as a fan but the disappointment seeped through the stadium, a miasma that was hard to shake on and off the field — unless you were wearing red because you were part of Red Sox Nation.

Being on assignment for the Boston-based Monitor, I skipped the truly awful trip into the losing clubhouse (been there) for the champagne-soaked chaos of the visiting clubhouse.  I wound up walking through the dugout behind the legendary Johnny Pesky, emerging while he was still being cheered. Red Sox players twirled their small children on the third base line; others took turns with cameras. It was an amazing moment to witness and an odd one. After all, this was the same field I stood on after Mark McGwire broke the home run record and yet for a moment it was Fenway in abstentia.

Today, Red Sox Nation came back to earth. They were in the real Fenway, watching another legendarily hapless team celebrate a sweep over the 2004 World Series champs — and in the first round.  the first playoff series win since 1917 One stunned man sat motionless, with a kerchief over his face; another rubbed the back of a heartbroken boy while the winning team partied obliviously on and off the field.

It’s the White Sox Nation’s turn and the  displaced, lifelong White Sox fan I call Dad  is savoring every minute.  When the White Sox meet the Cardinals in the World Series, I’m rooting for seven games worth remembering.