After making harder work of the Hated ATL than they should have been, the Astros and (most of) their fans were just happy to be here. The NLCS. In some ways, it’s a marvelous achievement, but considering the hype and expectations swirling around this team in March, this was considered the bare minimum before the wheels fell off in the middle of Summer. Now, some people like to do the bare minimum, and that’s ok. Others like to do more, and we encourage that.
Hunsicker has said repeatedly that there was never any question of breaking up this team in July and August. Baseball is a game of failure, and yet the dick-tripping going on in May, June, July and early August had large sections of Astro-fandom and the media abandoning ship. Yours truly most definitely included. Of course, when fans agree with mediots (coming to Fox this Fall), it could not be clearer that we were all completely wrong. The highest kudos to Astros management, without whom I may be able to speak today.
I’m sure all of you reading this upon its posting will know what’s going on right now. However, for the record, and for those who may read this in the future wondering (a) who gave this tool the bandwidth for this drivel? and (b) WTF is he talking about? I will say this:
(a) Hudson, Noe, Arky, Andy, and Waldo; and
(b) The improbable yet almost expected sweep of the mighty 3rds in Houston this week.
The 105-game winning rock just got hit by a wave of orange whoopass. And the rock moved.
Two Days at Fort Minute Maid
Game #4: Section 107, Row 31, Seat 12.
The towels, the noise, the excitement, the anticipation, the three runs dropped on Oswalt in the top of the 1st. Huh? This isn’t the script! Apparently, Roy didn’t get his copy, and he scuffled through 6 innings eventually yielding 5 runs. Pooholes doing the damage with a walk, single and homer against the Astros ace, accumulating three runs scored and three RBI.
Of course, Beltran tore up his copy of the script, the same way that he has torn up every inch of every ballpark he’s played in during this amazing run. But before we get there, a tip o’ the cap to Dan Wheeler. Did he ever imagine that he would be mowing down baseball’s best line-up with 43,000 fans screaming his name? If that happened to me, I think I’d soil the front and back of my shorts simultaneously.
Then Beltran did his thing. A shoe-top pitch dispatched into the Astros pen. So unfeasible was this shot that victimized pitcher Tavarez suffered an immediate and complete collapse of brain function, and turned into Kevin Brown. The comeback was complete, now all that remained was to see it home.
Lidge put the lights out for the last two innings, repeating his feat of the day before, and the roof was torn off the building. The noise was outrageous. I could not speak afterwards, but that was fine because I could not hear anything anyway. This was the most incredible sporting event I’d ever attended. Probably the most incredible event I’d ever attended full stop!
Being excluded from the World Series lottery, I expected never to see anything like this again.
The Shot Still Ringing in My Ears
Game #5: Section 208, Row 10, Seat 18
Ahhhh, the sanctity, calm and short lines of the Club Level. Yahoosawhatnow? Where’d all these people come from? Yep, even the Corporate Lackeys are on the bandwagon. The place is full to the gunwales with Astro-garb bedecked maniacs. Shame today’s game won’t be as good as yesterday (for the record, I was expecting this to be the Astros’ turn to go nutso with the bats).
Riiiiiiight.
Backe was a sight to behold (that don’t make me gay, right?). Pooholes, who came into Fort Minute Maid like a lion, went out like a lamb. A couple of weak grounders, a weak pop up and a hilarious at-bat in the 9th when Lidge made him look like a Little Leaguer facing Danny Alamonte. What Lidge did in these three games is beyond words.
This was a total team effort, though, and it is nigh-on impossible to identify all of the fantastic contributions from the entire roster. But here’s just a few: Ensberg’s snag of Sanders’ shot down the line in the 3rd; Beltran’s ITPHR-saving layout catch of a Renteria liner to end the 6th, the most unbelievable play you’ll ever see – until the next inning when he ran backwards up Tal’s Hill to rob Sanders again; Backe’s 8 near-perfect, shut-out innings; Lidge’s 9th; and, of course, Jeff Kent’s rocket shot off Isringhausen.
Drayton: “What have you done to be a champion today, Jeff?”
Kent: “Dropped a mutherfuckin’ soupbone on Izzy!”
Drayton: “Good for you! Got any of those left?”
Kent: “Fuckin’ A!”
Watching Kent step into the batter’s box, with two on in front of him and a couple of days of meekness behind him, I swear I saw him cock his bat like his cartoon caricature. The one mistake that teams keep making with the Astros is pissing ’em off. Intentionally walking someone with a two-strike count in front of Kent is not a good idea. First pitch…BLAMMO!
Incredibly, the ear-splitting noise that was caused by everyone screaming as loudly as they possibly could, instantly doubled in volume. Right off the bat, and I mean the very moment Jeff made contact, the whole place knew it was gone. It took maybe a second for the ball to travel from bat to limestone wall, but the ride seemed like an eternity. It was just an explosion of unbridled joy and utter disbelief.
Road Kill
St. Louise can take some solace in the fact that they are returning home. But they’re returning home emotionally and physically scarred from their visit to Houston. I hope they have enough Neosporin to treat all the grazes on those dragging arses.
Like, I dare say, all of you, I am ecstatic with what this team has achieved this year. But that doesn’t mean that I’d be satisfied with a seven-game loss in this series. I’m over the whole disbelief thing. It’s time to end it.
Right fucking now!