My last LT was written in the state of euphoria that followed the home-sweep of the 3rds by an on-fire Astros team. That was three months ago. Since then, every day has seen a sliver of that euphoria shaved off by paper, until all that remains is bare, exposed, cut-ridden flesh. That, plus the halitosis and indigestion resulting from the massive shit sandwich served up by Messrs Beltran and Boras, has made it a very crappy to start the New Year for Astrodom.
The Astros, on a triumphant march back to St. Louis, stumbled, righted themselves and then had a kneecap smashed in by Edmonds. Game #6 is where the NLCS was lost, seemingly no sooner than it had been won in Houston. The controversial decision to start Munro was negated when the Astros rallied to tie the game in the 9th. The 3rds were shell-shocked and they must’ve been having visions of themselves having visions of deja vu …all over again… as the Astros put the go ahead runner in scoring position. A base hit…a ground-ball…a ground-ball with eyes… But it was not to be. The Astros fail to deliver the killer blow and the game rolled on for a few more innings until fate and a depleted pen conspired to set up the horrendous mismatch of a now very fallible Miceli vs. a dyed-in-the-wool Astro-Killah in Edmonds. Paybacks are hell, and the fuck-you-back walk-off homer was as hurtful as it was inevitable.
Game #7 put the ball in the Rocket’s HoF hands, but I truly believe the 3rds were resurrected by Edmonds blast. They’d left Houston beaten, crushed, mashed, shredded and humiliated. They stirred against Munro in Game #6, but really should have demolished him. They left the door open for an Astro revival, and when it occurred, they were dead. The Astros just had to call it, but an ill-timed strikeout let them off the hook and they never looked back. Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. Game #7 started brightly, but ended up a water torture as the Astros slowly sank below the waves.
But if anyone needs any proof as to the damage inflicted on the Tank Commanders minions, look no further than the anti-climactic World Series. The Sox committed 8 errors in the first two games, and won both. If the 3rds weren’t going to show up, at least they could’ve sent the Astros in their place!
Of course, had the Astros pushed Bagwell (IIRC) home in the 9th inning of Game #6, the Astros would’ve taken the ticket to the Series instead of waited to be given it. I truly believe this. I also believe that Fox would’ve shat themselves over the Game #1 match-up that took Bagwell back to his roots and, more famously, put Clemens back on the very mound where he’d built his reputation. With the Yanks gone, I believe an Astros-Red Sox was the better tie for the neutral and casual fan, which means it was the better tie for Fox. I also believe that the Astros would jumped on the addled New English and made much more of a Series of it. They certainly couldn’t have done worse.
Once the NLCS ended, plus the five minutes it took the Sox to sweep the 3rds in the Series, all eyes turned to Beltran. His torrid run through the playoffs is stuff of legend. A legend that will forever be erased in the minds of Astros’ fans everywhere but the cuntish buttfucking he gave us all. And just in case there was any shred of doubt left that this twat is just a money-grubbing, self-absorbed whore, take a look at the following list of add-ons to his $119mm contract with the Mets (may they rot in hell together):
- A bonus for making the All-Star Team (because otherwise why bother trying?);
- A bonus for being the leading All-Star vote-getter;
- Bonuses for finishing the season atop any number of statistical categories;
- An escalating scale of cash for being MVP;
- A suite on the road (because who wants to sleep in the same room as your hooker?);
- A 15-seater luxury box at Shea for every home game (what an amazing smell you’ve discovered); and
- Use of a private jet to fly family and friends from PR to NY for home games.
It strikes me that anyone making $17mm a year should be motivated enough to try his best, and so would not need these (relatively) paltry cash awards for doing what he’s supposed to do. Make the All-Star Team? He’s one in the top ten money earners in this sport and perhaps a few others – he better be on the fucking All-Star team! Also, he can afford to buy seats and airline tickets for whoever he wants to bring along to see him play. As for the private suite on the road? That’s a big “Fuck You!” to his teammates…except maybe Piazza. Beltran has shown his true colours this off-season, and they are various shades of green.
We should’ve all seen it coming – his choice of Boras as agent foreshadowed everything that came to pass. He flung himself naked and moist at the Yankees, but they weren’t interested enough to get a stiffy let alone pop a Viagra. He played the Astros and ultimately settled for his third choice team, who play on a dung heap by an airport in a police no-go zone. He’s been twittering like a little girl with N’Synch tickets ever since, and has been making as much sense about the process of negotiation as he was truthful before during and after. Lying piece of shit. I hope you and your team stink for the next seven years at least.
While all this was going on, Jeff Kent and Wade Miller drifted off to alternative destinations. Kent was too rich for the Astros and Miller was too risky. On both counts I think that the Astros did the right thing. I would love to have had Kent back, but his demands would’ve strapped the Astros to sign Beltran (ha!) and were just too high anyway. They stumbled on the guarantee of a second year instead of the conditional one offered by the Astros; a no trade clause and plain old money. He returned to his home State of SoCal, and will hate hitting in that giant ballpark. Meanwhile, if the Dodgers think they can play him at 3rd, they better work on the pitcher cutting the throw to 1st in Spring Training, because I trust Bagwell to make a better throw across the diamond than Ol’ Bluebonnet.
Miller was about money and health too. He just has less of either than Kent. The current CBA hamstrung the Astros so that they either had to overpay and hope to get at least some way through the season before Wade hit the DL, or cut him loose and try to get him back as a free agent. As it turns out, Miller couldn’t wait to run for the hills, being snapped up by the Red Sox the minute he was available. I suspect that, having lost Pedro to the Mets earlier in the off-season, they had a gaping hole on their DL for a starting pitcher. Wade will replace Pedro on Boston’s treatment table for far less money than the Mets are paying Pedro to occupy their treatment table, so that’s nice for them.
Finally, returning to the World Series for a moment, I am glad that the Sox won. They reversed the curse, or whatever colourful phrase you prefer to use to describe the fact that they finally managed to stop tripping over their dicks and win something. Do you want to know what’s special about the Sox now? Nothing. They aren’t the Yanks whipping boys. They aren’t cursed. They are just another baseball team. Like Baltimore, or Seattle or Oakland or Houston. One who will rise up out of the mire every once in a while but otherwise drift along in the algae with the rest of us. They are no of no special interest whatsoever. Thank you, Boston. And goodbye.