Submitted by chuck.
July 9 – 10, 2013
Houston Astros (32-57) at St Louis Cardinals (53-34)
Busch Stadium
700 Clark Street
St Louis, MO 63102
314-345-9600
Tuesday, July 9, Busch Stadium, 7:15, CDT
Bud Norris, 6-7, 3.22 vs Shelby Miller, 9-6, 2.80
Promotion: Free win
Wednesday, July 10, Busch Stadium, 7:15, CDT
Jordan Lyles, 4-3, 3.87 vs Adam Wainwright, 11-5, 2.36
Promotion: Ice Mountain Autograph Night – Fans ages 20 and under can get current player autographs before the game from 6 to 6:30. Then from 6:30 to 7:15 all fans can get autographs from former players. Presented by Ice Mountain.
Note: apparently Ice Mountain is a brand of water which, in bottled form, probably comes in handy at Busch Stadium during the later innings.
Injuries
Astros:
Trevor Crowe, OF
15-day DL (07/03)
Right shoulder sprain
Edgar Gonzalez, P
15-day DL (06/18)
Right shoulder sprain
Justin Maxwell, OF
7-day DL (06/30)
Concussion
Alex White, P
Out for Season
I have no idea who this is
Jakes:
Chris Carpenter, P
60-day DL (07/05)
Thoracic outlet syndrome, scheduled to pitch simulated game July 10
Rafael Furcal, SS
Out for Season, Tommy John surgery
Jaime Garcia, P
Out for Season
Underwent debridement of left shoulder labrum, rotator cuff May 24.
John Gast, P
15-day DL (06/19)
Left lat strain
Jason Motte, P
Out for Season
Ungrounded outlet syndrome, shocking loss
Que yo tengo de todo, no me falta na’
Tengo la noche que me sirve de sábana
And So
Four lousy games. That’s all the Astros and the Cardinals warrant of a season anymore. I guess it shouldn’t matter since apparently the two teams were never rivals despite their 280 contests over the course of the Astros’ 19-year involvement in the NL Central. Their head to head record over that period was 133-147, advantage to the Jakes. Some of you lightsaber types will take solace in the fact that the historical pythagorean is not that bad: 1268 runs scored,1279 against. That predicts a more appealing 139-141 record. Of course predictions are one thing, results are another. Ask anybody other than Nate Silver.
But before anyone realized that we needed to establish a legacy things were generally moving along quite nicely. The Astros are -14 all time against the Jakes as opponents in the Central and 12 of those losses come from the final two years: 4-11 in 2012 and 5-10 in 2011. (All-time the Thirds’ edge is 375-327. Given the corrected scheduling it will take the Astros more than a decade of series sweeps to claw their way back to even.)
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If it’s a bit strange for fans to treat a mid-season tryst with the Thirds as an interleague nuisance then to me it’s certainly very disconcerting to treat this entire season with such studied ambivalence. When I spouted off about my disinclination to remain a fan due to the ass reaming the team took I realized at the time that I might eventually end up issuing an embarrassing retraction. I wondered if my 40-plus years of Astros fandom could in fact be discarded. We’ve all seen where the amassed gravity of fucked up customs, beliefs and traditions pulls in even the most distant of orbits. Mercury orbits like mine certainly should not drift.
Yet it has. I watch the team, sure, sometimes. I watch a lot of baseball and sometimes I watch the Astros. Where I used to watch every single game I now watch when I have nothing better to do. I guess it speaks to the amount of excitement in my life that there have been thirty or so occasions this season when I have had literally nothing better to do than watch a team that lets Chris Carter put on a glove and take the field. Fuck me, I even went to a game a time or two. Unsurprisingly in one of those Chris Carter made an horrific error that cost the Astros the contest.
In resigning from Astros fandom I wondered how I might begin to address their absence in my life. Those of you with families and friends and so on might consider this an odd issue to contemplate but for me the Astros represented a great deal of securely dedicated free time that I would need to fill somehow. Fortunately two things have happened to occupy my sporting life. One is that the Panamanian national team has made it to the World Cup qualifying round. (Have I mentioned this?) The top three of the six nations competing in the regional finals will go to Brazil. Sadly it appears that playing like shit and getting your ass kicked up and down the hemisphere do not readily result in a top-three finish.
The fourth place team plays a November home and away qualification series with New Zealand. Barring a miracle Panama is now playing for fourth place. I’ve really been hoping to avoid a fourth place finish because a) I want my guys to qualify now and b) I am clearly stupid enough to travel to Auckland or wherever the Kiwis play these games to see my team get abused by a bunch of Maori psychopaths. Like most other teams I have followed passionately through my life the national side appears to be just good enough to break my heart.
But I said two things. The second involves a local, semi-professional soccer team in which I was asked to participate. I was invited into the ownership of this new soccer club designed to play in local and regional tournaments. It was explained to me that the goal of the club is to use soccer as a way to award scholarships to deserving students, provide job training to those in need, run sports clinics in disadvantaged neighborhoods and so on. It was also suggested that one might benefit from getting to know the other associates of the club socially.
After the initial invitation I went to see the team play on a ratty field quite close to my apartment in the city. Far too early on a Sunday morning I saw a rag-tag team of guys playing on a surface that no American high school team would use. I sat in a concrete stadium that reminded me of a post-apocalypse Bayland Park. I got sunburned like a redneck on Labor Day. The team won. I love education; I love sports; I was in.
And then something odd happened. The team got good. The coach found some new players to compliment the core guys, and apparently the team took his instruction to heart because I saw them make incredible strides as a team in a very short period of time. The next thing I know we, Club Deportivo Centenario, looked every bit like a real team. And the results confirmed appearances. We began traveling up and down the isthmus beating the dogshit out of everybody. We’d win one tournament, enter another and win that one. We eventually qualified for the Copa Rommel which is an annual, nationwide tournament of the best club level teams.
It turns out that the Copa Rommel is a pretty big deal. It’s a tournament that is highly anticipated by many teams with long and storied histories. Families and friends of the teams involved actually travel the country to watch the games. And, most importantly, the tournament winner gets elevated to the second division of the Panamanian professional league.
Think of it. You’re eighteen, twenty, playing on a summer baseball team for the hell of it. You play in a tournament and win. Play in a couple more, win them, too. Suddenly you’re in a tournament whose winner is guaranteed a place in AAA. That is exactly the situation we found ourselves in.
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Four or five years ago I was reading an interview with Carlos Lee in a local magazine. What do you miss most about Panama when you’re away? they asked. His answer was immediate and succinct. The food, he said.
I was astonished because among the many things Panama has to recommend it the food would not linger about the top of any reasonable list. There are excellent restaurants in the city and a number scattered here and there in the interior, sure. And I’m as happy as I can be with a plate of pollo guisado with lentils and rice and a simple salad at any roadside fonda. That sort of food is good, simple, filling, sanitary and cheap. You’d have to ask for additional pieces of chicken to edge the bill over three dollars. But Panama does not have anything approaching an elevated culinary tradition.
Take ceviche, for example. Panamanian ceviche is a frightful mess of tiny bits of fish and an equal or greater amount of cubed onions swimming aimlessly in a foul, vinegary liquid. It is nothing like the delicate magic produced by a good Peruvian kitchen.
Over time and through extensive experimentation I have managed to hit upon a method of preparing ceviche that, for me, produces acceptable results. One thing Panama does have in abundance is fish. I like a normal Red Snapper for ceviche although you can use most anything that’s fresh. I’ll occasionally use Yellowtail, Pompano, and, when I can find it, Parrotfish. Oily fish like Blue Runners or other Jacks are surprisingly good, too.
But the key is the broth. Sure, you cut strips out of the filets and bathe them in citrus. But I find that mixing the citrus with a good stock prior to serving results in a far superior flavor. I like Red Snapper best mainly because it produces a reliable broth.
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We won our division, a division that encompasses Panama City and Colon, the two areas by far most densely populated with soccer talent. The winners of other two divisions, one from the central portion of the country and the other from the western third, played a single game to determine who would challenge Centenario for the title. For some reason the other divisions were a couple of weeks behind us. I went to their semi-final game to scout the opposition.
I took my girlfriend who is a keen if inexperienced sports fan. We enter the stadium and I pop out of the tunnel and scan the crowd for someone, anyone in a Centenario shirt. Before I see a familiar face our head coach, Jose, spots me. CHUCK! he shouts, leaping up and waiving me over. It was great to watch the game with Jose. He is a most excellent dude and an irrepressible and irreplaceable member of the organization.
Afterwards my girl expressed some confusion as to why we went. She thought we’d be watching Centenario. Why, I have no idea because I told her who was playing and what we were doing. We’re scouting the opposition, I explain. Oh, she says, considering this. So why was that other guy there? she asks. The other guy?! You mean the fucking coach? Why do you think, woman?! No idea. SCOUTING THE OPPOSITION. Oh… If he’s the coach then why doesn’t he ever come to any of our games?
At this point I’m dumbfounded, literally speechless. Is this all a brilliant wind-up? Come to OUR games? I venture meekly. Yes, she says, I’ve never seen him at any of our games. What, do you think he’s going to be sitting in the stands with us sipping a fucking orange soda?
This is life at casa chuck.
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Simmer the head and spine of the fish with a quartered yellow onion, a halved shallot if you have one, a couple of cloves of crushed garlic, a bit of celery, four or five black peppercorns and a bay leaf. In other words, make a broth. I would err on the side of less aromatics rather than more because I want the broth to taste more like fish than vegetable. You will be tempted to add a second bay leaf. I say don’t, for the above reason.
As for the citrus, I like to use a mix. Key limes are the main component, certainly. I’ll use 60-70% key lime juice. In Panama I can find an orangey lime (annoyingly also called limón) that has an ugly green rind and an ugly orange fruit. The juice though is pretty and plentiful and a perfect compliment to the key limes. I’ve never seen this fruit in the States so as a substitute I’d use a lemon or two and the bitterest orange I could find.
Add a large clove of garlic and a small thumb of ginger to the citrus, dicing them as finely as possible. Or grate them if you must. Once you’ve added the fish to the citrus, garlic and ginger add a generous amount of salt. Finally, I really like to add a small spoonful of coriander powder. I find that the coriander powder accents the citrus nicely and adds a welcome depth of flavor, a sort of citrusy bass note to balance all the high mids.
Bathe the fish in the citrus until the fish turns from translucent to white.
Once the fish is white and the broth is cool I would drain about half of the citrus and add an amount of strained broth equal to the remaining citrus. Add a healthy amount of thinly sliced red onion and chopped cilantro. I invariably include finely chopped habanero chiles. This time of year I highly recommend corn on the cob as an accompaniment.
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The team from Santiago beat the team from Chiriquí. In turn, of course, Centenario beat the team from Santiago. It was a closer game than I would have liked but our guys got it done. I now find myself a part owner of a professional team in a FIFA-recognized league. This is an incredible development in part because going into it I never so much as daydreamed about this outcome. In fact, I had no idea it was even possible. What I thought might be a five to ten year timeframe to develop the team to the point where we had enough leverage to do some good things for people who need them has taken only one year. The national futbol association invited us to move the team to the interior, to Penonomé, largely because there is an unused stadium and lots of people with nothing else to do in terms of sports. We now have a place to practice, a place to play, a radio affiliate and a sponsorship deal with Mitre. We even have land adjacent to the stadium where we’re going to build a clubhouse with a pool and a gym and whatever else we’ll need for the clinics we’re going to run for the children in the area.
We start competing in the Liga Nacional de Ascenso in August. We’re all excited, of course, but I know I’m equally excited to begin interacting with the community, awarding our first scholarships, running our first clinics. We’re going to do a lot of good things and I feel very, very privileged to have been invited to participate.
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I wonder what the Cardinals fans think about all this, this forced relocation of our baseball team. I know that some of you used to frequent Cardinals boards back when you too cared about the Astros; maybe you’ll have a sense. But from what I know of the best fans in baseball I doubt they’ve much noticed.