The 10th World Series championship in St. Louis Cardinals history was for all the Cardinals teams that played special baseball all summer, only to come up short and stagger off into the winter filled with frustration and longing. This was for all of the postseason ghosts and the haunted memories, whether it's Curt Flood's slip in 1968, or Don Denkinger missing a call at first base in 1985, or the hydraulic tarp that tried to swallow Vince Coleman's ankle.

This was for the immortal Cardinals who always come home, like Cardinals returning to a baseball Vatican. Stan Musial, and Lou Brock, and Bob Gibson, and Ozzie Smith, and Red Schoendienst, and Bruce Sutter. They are baseball royalty, their presence a constant reminder to the modern players of what it means to be a Cardinal.

This was for old friends who could not be there, but you just know that spirits of Jack Buck and Darryl Kile were near the Cardinals and their fans, watching over the drama of Game 5.

This was for baseball's best fans, who had waited 23 seasons for a reaffirmation of the a proud franchise's glorious tradition. And it doesn't matter where they gathered. They could have been shivering in the frigid bowl of Busch Stadium, or watching at home, or gathered with friends in a local sports bar, or watching on satellite from a camp in Iraq, or a station in Afghanistan.

Cardinals fans live everywhere, existing as one extended family, and they became one nation under a groove again on Friday night, when the power of this Red October pulled their heartbeats together in one electric moment. At 10:22 on the evening of Oct. 27, rookie Cardinals closer Adam Wainwright struck out the Tigers' Brandon Inge on a heinous breaking ball, sealing the championship with a 4-2 victory in Game 5.

In the madness of the on-field celebration, Cardinals center fielder Jim Edmonds stepped away, spoke to an interviewer from the Fox network, and said it all: "I think we shocked the world."

Well, they certainly shocked St. Louis. Eighty three wins, traded in for a title. Season-long agony, traded in for October ecstasy. All of the adversity, all of the trouble, washed away by champagne bubbles after a magical postseason run.

One man stood in the center of it all, almost incapable of comprehending the scene, or process the initial jolts of joy.

"I'm having a hard time holding it together," manager Tony La Russa said.

This was for so many people, and it was for La Russa, too. When he took the Cardinals job after the 1995 season, he specifically asked for No. 10. It represented an ideal, a goal, more than a number. The Cardinals had won the World Series nine times, and La Russa wanted to bring a 10th to the franchise.

At times that number got awfully heavy, as the intense La Russa worked himself into exhaustion and high stress levels to make the dream cone true, only to be denied so many times. Ten absorbed criticism, and he stirred controversy, and he upset people that he didn't live in St. Louis year round, and he was reminded a million times that his name wasn't Whitey Herzog.

La Russa did it his way, and whether you liked him or not, this is the absolute truth: No one in a Cardinals uniform has ever worked harder or cared more or lost more sleep in pursuit of a world championship for this franchise.

At times his quest seemed cruel, as La Russa would push the boulder up the hill, only to have it come rolling down on him in October. But Friday night, La Russa became a champion again, and he delivered that championship to all of those who love the Cardinals.

And when Wainwright conquered Inge in that galvanizing, snapshot moment, La Russa had every reason to take a bow, but declined to do so. He said he was happy for the players. He said it over and over again. La Russa did, however, get the kiss and the hug of his life from wife Elaine near the Cardinals dugout, seconds after 46,638 hearts skipped at Busch.

La Russa took Cardinals teams to the postseason in 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2004, 2005, and now, 2006. Who would have thought that this 83-win assortment of bruised players, slumping stars, limping veterans, precocious kids, recycled parts, and superstars Albert Pujols and Chris Carpenter would come together to pull off a miracle? Who could have imagined that this bunch would break the spell, and make La Russa only the second manager in the baseball history to win a World Series in both leagues?

Well, these imperfect but intensely resilient Cardinals did it for all of the superior St. Louis teams that never made it. The teams La Russa managed before 2006. The hard-luck Cardinals that Herzog took to the World Series in 1985 and 1987. Somehow, the Cardinals' postseason universe balanced out in this impossible October.

When La Russa saw Gibson after Game 5, the meaning of the championship suddenly rushed through his blood.

"When you're around here," La Russa said, "you can't join the club unless you win the World Series. And now we can say that this group joined the club."

Ten.

In his 1,851st game as the Cardinals manager, regular season and postseason, Tony La Russa got it done. The number on his back is no longer 10 pounds of burdensome weight. It stands for 10 World Series championships.