Editor’s note – This article originally appeared on AstrosConnection.com.
At 9:10 or so tonight, Roy Oswalt will throw a pitch to Marvin Bernard. At about 9:10 tonight, as an Astros fan, I’ll be able to get back to some normalcy, or as much normalcy as pennant races usually allow. As an American, I don’t know when that process is going to start. I’m hoping, like a lot of people, that the baseball will allow me the release of not thinking about the victims still buried at the World Trade Center or that World War III might be around the corner. I have my doubts that it will, but at this point I’ll take what I can get.
It probably makes me, at best, a pretty shallow person, but I’ve been longing for the Astros to play for a few days now. I want to have horribly trivial conversations about why Jeff Bagwell is the best first baseman of his generation, despite his anemic showings in the playoffs. I want to marvel at Octavio Dotel throwing with precision a ball covered in horsehide at fantastic speeds. I want to think about the “Kids are Alright” rotation of Oswalt, Wade Miller, Tim Redding, Carlos Hernandez and maybe Greg Miller in the not too distant future. I want to worry about losing Moises Alou and Billy Wagner. I want the catharsis that the illusion of standard operating procedure will give me tonight.
I want to cry at a great rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. Or really, any rendition. The song wasn’t well done last night anywhere, from what I could see, but I still had tears welling up watching the attempts from my couch last night. There’s a peculiar mixture of sadness and pride when I hear that song. I was proud when I could see people trying to keep up with the group in Philadelphia last night, and prouder still when they broke into a chant of USA, USA. The sadness is still wrapped up in why people were all of a sudden paying attention to the Anthem last night. I guess it shows where the country is emotionally. They’ve booed bad versions of the National Anthem in Philly before. They’ve even booed Santa Claus.
I totally agree with the decisions that MLB and Bud Selig made to postpone baseball as long as they did. I also applaud the players for making it known they weren’t ready to play Friday night, on what was declared a national day of mourning. But deep inside, I was past ready by Friday to hear “play ball,” to be upset with something Larry Dierker did or didn’t do, to yell at an umpire from the comfort of my living room, and even to get yelled at because I wasn’t listening to my wife, “because there’s a game on.”
So tonight, at about 9:00, I’ll find the game on the satellite, and cry when they play the national anthem. At about 9:05, I’ll let my dogs, Astro and Rocket, into the house so they can crash on the floor in front of the television. At 9:10 or so, I’ll think about the Giants (and Cubs and Cardinals) being the bad guys and not Osama Bin Laden, and for the next 3 hours, with any luck, that’ll be all I’ll think about. I might even sleep well tonight. Strangely enough, it would be the first time in a week.