ST. LOUIS — Before becoming a powerful prospect for the St. Louis Cardinals, Blaze Jordan was just a boy obsessed with basketball, so much so that his family was willing to drive across states to pursue a very childish dream: to see Albert Pujols play in person. Then Game 3 of the 2011 World Series in Texas happened — the night Pujols hit three home runs, turning a battle into legend, and inadvertently shaping Jordan’s future.
Jordan recounts with a proud, running smile: “My favorite player as a child was Albert Pujols. My family went to Texas to watch Game 3 that year. And then… he hit three home runs.” A short statement, but behind it lies a straight line connecting childhood memories and his professional path today.
For Cardinals Nation, 2011 was more than just a season. It was a season of permitted color, of incredible reverse flows, and of Pujols—who put an end to the Cardinals’ professional careers in an unforgettable night. For Blaze Jordan, it was a night where everything “locked” in time: if there was a way to live with basketball, it was to become the first powerful junior member, like a legendary idol.
Born with natural strength and an unusually “heavy” voice from a very young age, Jordan quickly rose to fame on social media thanks to his teenage hurdles. But what caught the Cardinals’ attention wasn’t just his muscles or strength rating—it was the way he spoke about Pujols. No account. No copycat. Just the respect of a child who had proven history and wanted to follow in their footsteps.
Within the Cardinals’ training system, Blaze Jordan was considered the true “St. Louis DNA” of a powerful, disciplined 1B fighter: calm, composed, and unafraid of the big moments. His coach recounted that when discussing pressure, Jordan frequently attended World Series nights in Texas—not for fitness, but to remind himself of what it was like to have witnessed such peak performance.
“I remember every single spin,” Jordan said. “It felt like the whole stadium was breathing. When the ball went up, you knew it wasn’t going to come back.” For one perspective, memory is both a driving force and a defining reminder: to become a Pujols, you have to accept the Pujols standard.
It’s a strange coincidence that the Cardinals, the team of that memory, is now where Jordan took his first professional steps. In a historically significant and symbolic organization, a job that emphasizes Pujols as the reason he loves basketball is no small detail. It struck a chord with fans—those still searching for the next pitch from a hitter who delivered that reassuring, reassuring feeling every time they stepped into the batter’s box.
Of course, no one was giving the Pujols a second chance at Blaze Jordan. The Cardinals had learned more than enough about the job for prospects to develop at their own pace. But what makes this dream story so iconic is its symbolism: a kid watching Pujols hit three home runs in the World Series, then growing up to become a powerful first-choice baseman in the main colors. It’s a scenario that even Hollywood would be wary of for being so “beautiful.”
In the small league locker room, Jordan was portrayed as a man of few words but with finely detailed visuals: the angle of contact, the breathing before the throw, and the way he balanced his swing—things Pujols had done with chilling perfection. “I’m not trying to be Albert,” Jordan emphasized. “But I’m learning how he respected every single hit.”
And then the big question arose, one that didn’t need to be asked aloud: Are the Cardinals proving the beginning of a circular destiny? A boy inspired by the 2011 World Series, now honing his skills day by day so that one day—if he’s lucky, if he’s good enough—he can create the moment when another child decides to love basketball.
Blaze Jordan knew the path ahead and tackled the problem. But unlike many, he saw the destination very early on. In Texas, in 2011. When Albert Pujols hit that home run and turned a stadium into a sanctuary. And from that moment of tackling, a Cardinals dream was born—quiet, enduring, and unending.
