After a lamentable start to 2011, we’re headed back to Minute Maid with a win tucked in our belts, something that the retahhhds in Bahhhstahn can’t claim at this point. As is our tradition, the SnS crowd will convene first at Spanish Flowers and then at MMPUS for this opening series at home; local authorities report that both Limey and HudsonHawk have been on a three day bender in preparation, and are expected to arrive at Alice’s Tall Texan in a 1958 Cadillac convertible towing a bbq trailer and piled high with lotion and empty Shiner bottles.
Keep steppin'
We take solace in these traditions, because uncertainty will hit us like a blast of a/c in August as soon as we arrive inside the stadium. Defensively, these Astros are ugly. Like, Lemmy ugly but without the rocking and alcohol. Like “that one girl on Facebook who only shows her left eye in her profile pic” ugly. I never thought I’d see the day when I awaited the healthy return of Jeff Keppinger for the sake of his defense, but here we are.
I’d join the chorus of haters, naysayers, professional pessimists and Debbie Downers at this point if it weren’t for one damned thing: baseball is back. I found myself at a junior high-level baseball game earlier this week, in defiance of that court order, and it was just so damn comforting. The stretch. The pitch. The fielders crouched at the ready. The sound of bat hitting ball. The dash around the bases. The third base coach frantically waving the runner home. The blood gushing from the umpire’s nose. (Oh yeah: sixth graders are about as good at finding the cut-off man as our Face of the Franchise, so there is bound to be collateral damage.) Again, it was familiar.
It’s going to be a tough season to be an Astros fan. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s often pointed out at this juncture that the word “fan” is derived from “fanatic”, but in reality there’s nothing fanatical about being a fan in times like these. It’s more familial than fanatical. You stick with family, even when they screw up for the hundredth time, because they’re family. We’ve chosen to be Astros fans, or we had it chosen for us by family or geography, but we’re family regardless. So let the haters hate. Let talk radio and Pinwheel stew and strive for pageviews. Let the national pundits forget that we exist until the trade deadline; I’m looking forward to ringing in the new season with my family. Even the weird ones.
Friday, April 8th, 2011
6:05 CST, MMPUS
Ricky Nolasco (0-0, 2.57) v. Wandy Rodriguez (0-1, 15.75)
Nolasco is looking for his first decision after a strong opening outing against the Bravos. He’s got a strong record (3-1) lifetime against the Blood and Mud, but Bourn, Pence, Hall and of course Inglett have all hit him well. Pence has three homers off this bastard.
Wandy. Oh Wandy. I could just copy and paste what’s been written a thousand times about him before. You either get Good Wandy, with the curveball that falls like Britney Spears at an awards show, or you get Bad Wandy, who hangs pitches all day until Mills brings the hook. Last week in Philly we got Bad Wandy. The good news is that we still have a 50-50 chance of getting Good Wandy tonight. Hanley Ramirez has him pretty well figured out to the tune of a 1.319 OPS; the team as a whole hits .289 off him.
Saturday, April 9th, 2011
6:05 CST, MMPUS
Javier Vazquez (0-1, 15.43) v. Bud Norris (0-1, 11.25)
LHP. 12-15. 4.65 ERA.
Vazquez is just 33. I find this strange, because I’m pretty convinced he’s been in the league ever since he dropped in on these shores with Vasco De Gama. I swear to crap he pitched for the Boston Braves. Anyway, Hall and Pence are the only hitters above .300 against him, and Gunther has a dinger. Carlos has hit 3 homers off of him, too, but also has 3 K’s to match.
Budly is in an odd spot in his career. I’m with Mr. Happy or whoever it was who suggested that he be made a closer so that he doesn’t have to worry about seeing hitters twice and all that shit. But for now he’s a starter, and the closest thing to a #3 guy that we have until Lyles is deemed ready for promotion. Hanley is hitting .444 against him, as is Omar The Infant(e).
Sunday, April 10th 2011
1:05 CST, MMPUS
Anibal Sanchez (0-0, 3.18) v. J.A. Happ (0-1, 15.75)
One of these years, pointing out that Anibal is a girl’s name will cease to be funny to me. This is not that year. Little Dolphin Ani gets hit pretty hard by the Big Johnson, and by the Mighty Matt Downs. Everyone else combines for .152 against him. The Babdists who wander over to Minute Maid after church might wish they’d gone to Luby’s instead.
As a former NL East-er, Happ has seen a lot of Fish in his day. And they hit .167 against him. So that’s a good sign. The bad news is Happ looked rough last outing, and you have to wonder if the strain that almost kept him from missing his first start is affecting him. Kudos to the kid for pitching through pain, though.
Injuries (FOR YOUR FANTASY TEAM!)
Astros:
Alberto Arias – (15 day DL) tendinits, throwing off the mound. Is it beyond statute of limitations for blaming Cooper for wearing him out?
Clint Barmes – (15 day DL) broken bone in left hand. Could be back sooner than expected, which would be great. Even with a bum hand, he’ll be a defensive upgrade. Hell, tie a cinder block to his hand and he might still be an upgrade.
It's the Citizen Kane of "Zooey Tied Up" movies.
Michael Bourn – (day-to-day) The Real FOTF has tightness in the groin. Look, buddy, we’re all excited about Natalie Portman and Zooey Deschanel in the same movie, but there’s no need to go overboard.
Jason Castro – (15 day DL) I almost didn’t believe this. 15 day DL? Is there some chance that he’s Wolverine and is going to heal suddenly and be catching again before the All-Star break?
Jeff Keppinger – (15 day DL) We can rebuild him. Better. Stronger. Faster.
Delicious Sushi:
John Baker – (60 day DL) The MLB description says that he’s “not ready to catch in Majors”. You and me both, Baker.
Michael Stanton – (day-to-day) Tightness in right leg from where Jeff Loria took his pound of flesh.
The only odd thing about these Opening Day shindigs is the introductions. Everyone else in my life knows my name is Rob. But I’m going to explain about 20 times tonight that I’m two people: Rob and GBB. Some of y’all won’t ever really meet Rob, but you might know GBB. It’s an odd quirk of internet life: the moment you open your mouth and tell someone what your name is, except you don’t say your real name. You throw out a handle. It feels weird in your mouth. You offer your real name almost as an apology, that I’m not really like this. I’m not obsessed with Jeff’s facial hair. GBB tastes weird to me.
And that, of course, is what she said. Can’t wait to see you nincompoops again.
What To Watch For:
– Fuck all this. It’s baseball. Just watch it. Enjoy the sights, the smells, the sounds. It’s spring and it’s new and it’s right. Even when we lose. Especially when we lose.