Labor Day Special

Posted on September 3, 2013 by BudGirl in Game Recaps, News

Twins 10, Astros 6
W:Roenicke (3-1) L:Lo (0-3)
recap

Well, some of us had the day off of work to celebrate Labor Day. I literally took the day off from the Astros. It did not dawn on me until Tuesday morning that I should have watched the game since I am scheduled to recap them. Well, it is pretty much the same as it has been of late.

Here’s the pitching lines from yesterday.
Player IP H R ER BB SO HR ERA
Clemens 3.2 7 4 3 3 0 2 5.91
Harrell 1.1 3 1 1 1 1 1 5.81
Fields(H, 6) 2.0 0 1 1 2 2 0 6.07
Chapman, K(BS, 2) 1.0 1 0 0 1 2 0 0.00
Lo(L, 0-3) 1.0 2 4 4 2 2 1 5.25
Totals 9.0 13 10 9 9 7 4 4.85

Lo giving up the grand slam is pretty much the way the season has gone.

Hope you all had a great labor day.

Twins @ Astros Series Preview

Posted on September 2, 2013 by Ebby Calvin in Featured, Series Previews

Oh Henry, have you got something to tell me?

‘Cause everybody’s been sayin’

You been runnin’ around

Oh Henry, I know you wouldn’t hurt me

Don’t you know that we don’t need

One more grave in this town

***

The Pine Tree Market sits in the middle of town along Chilnualna Road, four aisles of groceries hidden beneath a canopy of pine needles. It is quite literally the only place in town, so you’re stuck with whatever lines its shelves. The essentials are stocked daily – milk, beer and two racks of candy – but if you have a specific recipe in mind you might end up plating a chicken caesar salad on a full bed of parsley. It’s a tiny shop with random groceries at the end of a long distribution line, but it’s been there forever and the locals love it.

The tradition in my family is that the first person who wakes up walks down to grab a Fresno Bee or USA Today (the national equivalent of the Bee). It’s a great tradition when you’re a teenager who sleeps until 11am, but you end up making a lot of early morning walks when you have a 2-year-old who’s adjusted to a different time zone.

Tuesday marked my third morning in a row, and Gene met me at the front door of the market with a cup of coffee and a Twizzler for my daughter. We talked a bit about water levels and the Rim Fire, and he made fun of my Astros hat yet again. Just another early morning in the trees.

I heard a clack-CLACK on the wooden railing outside, followed with a sharp aahk-aahk-aahk. I caught Eleanor as she darted to the front of the store, just in time to see a slender silhouette pop up and down in the window shade.

“Ah, that must be Henry,” Gene said as he checked his watch. He grabbed a pair of tall-boy Keystone Lights on his way to the door and flung it open to greet an old friend.

Henry, while not human, weighed every bit as much as my daughter and seemed to talk more. He hopped on the railing and tossed a pair of pull-tabs in a recycle bin nearby. Gene made some chirping sounds and stood the beers on either side of the beast before turning back in to grab a ringing phone.

At the time, it was the closest I’d ever been to a living raven. I clutched Eleanor out of instinct but stood frozen in place. Henry was huge – nearly twice the size of a chicken – and as beautiful as he was frightening. The damn bird seemed to look me right in the eyes, as if gauging my character in a primal way. Then he hopped up, carefully clutched the beers and took off.

***

Monday, Labor Day, 1pm MMPUS

(Andrew) Albers vs (Paul) Clemens

Tuesday, 7pm MMPUS

TBD vs Cosart

Wednesday, 1pm MMPUS

Hendriks vs Lyles

***

Twizzlers from a package just aren’t the same as the licorice you find in the big glass jars. I never really enjoyed the candy all that much, maybe because the ones from the tub seem stale yet somehow better, but I gripped several of them in my right hand as I rode my father’s shoulders, straight from the Pine Tree Market. We walked a short distance along the highway towards a group of Park Rangers, several of them puffing at cigarettes. They casually hung around a gigantic white septic tank and seemed to be congratulating each other as they awaited further instructions.

As we drew closer, the giant tank shook violently on its trailer and bellowed out in anger. Everybody ducked in fear, including my dad and me atop his frame, and time stood still. The roar trailed off to a whimper, and only the four-year-old in the group had the balls to call back gleefully, “BEAR!!!”

So, not a septic tank: a cage. A big fucking cage with wheels and a single grated air-hole on each side. A Sharpie above the window on the port side named its occupant “Snaggletooth,” and ol’ Snaggle seemed to be pissed right the fuck off.

We smiled at the Rangers as they clumsily flicked their lighters. My father and I share a brain, so he talked his way to the side of the cage and hoisted me up to peek in the window – he knew I wouldn’t leave without a look inside.

Snaggletooth shook as he stood, his thick brown coat moving independently from the massive body that twitched underneath. If I hadn’t known better, I would have guessed Woolly Mammoth. He wrestled with his restraints and bit at his paws. Then the four-year-old caught his attention.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” I cooed as I made the Universal Tickle Hand Signal.

He snorted and looked up. Bloodshot eyes caught mine and he bore his teeth in recognition. He was every bit the bear I knew from my picture books, but like nothing I’ve seen since. The entire left side of his face drooped dramatically as dozens of shotgun slugs weighed it down. His fur was caked red and pocked with a pale pink that was either skin or flesh. Snaggletooth sneered and rushed the window.

My father pulled me back as he charged but the beast came up short of the window and didn’t roar. I lurched forward and quickly stuffed three licorice sticks in the air-hole. Snaggletooth sniffed the air, inspected the sugary snacks, looked back at me and swallowed them in one bite.

I mashed my face against the grate and called out again. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

Snaggletooth looked back, his enormous head hovering six inches from mine, and sneezed, covering my face with blood, fur and snot.

The Park Rangers chortled in relief. “He’s saying thank you.”

***

Injuries

Twins

Oswaldo Arcia – heads

Samuel Deduno – shoulders

Joe Mauer – knees

Wilkin Ramirez – toes

Astros

Corporan – concussion

Gonzalez – right shoulder

JD Martinez – left wrist

Stassi – concussion

White – blah

***

The beer wasn’t for Henry, obviously.

Henry was a servant, sort of. Like a carrier pigeon, but, you know, not at all. The story goes that Henry’s owner was originally given Parakeets for companionship – an idiotic idea in a place like Yosemite – and that Henry dutifully killed off three of them before Operation Parakeet Happiness was fully dismantled. But Henry hung around (possibly hoping for more parakeets) and developed a relationship with the old man.

The old man, The Hermit Templeton, never set foot outside his house and never allowed visitors. Nobody knew all that much about him, which, in a small community, meant that everybody knew something about him. Henry became Mr. Templeton’s lone connection to the outside world and after five years the locals quit bothering and accepted the arrangement. That was ten years ago.

I grabbed a tall-boy of Keystone Light as I left the market and walked back to my cabin.

***

Promotions

Mon thru Weds – Jack Shit Sponsored by CraneCo.

***

Naptime is a wondrous thing, especially when on vacation, so I took advantage of my two free hours and walked down Chilnualna Road. I was told to look for the most impeccably manicured cabin on the road – first one on the right after the Billy Goat Bridge. I found it after 20 minutes and slowed my steps, Keystone Light stretched out in front of me in plain view. The constant hum of heavy machinery drowned out the gurgle of the Merced River as a deep, regular wheezing came to the forefront.

Aahk, aahk, aahk called from above.

“Um, hi, Henry, I brought some beer?” I asked stupidly as I looked up to the front porch eave.

“And what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?” an old man’s voice shot from behind the house.

“Mr. Templeton?” I shouted back.

“Why are you here? What the fuck do you want?”

“Well sir, I met Henry this morning at the market and was quite impressed with him. I thought maybe he’d grab three beers if he could carry them, and, well, here I am. I have the third beer.” I’d rehearsed that.

“My worthless asshole of a nephew left an hour ago for Oakhurst. You brought me a beer I can’t open or drink.”

A long pause, then

“Fuck it, come around back,” he called. “I think I see a straw.”

Henry dropped to my level and led me around the right side of the house. A brown wooden deck wrapped from front to back, well-swept and newly-stained. No furniture littered the planks; a patio with no seats and no discernible appeal other than its view, as the massive pines thinned out near the bank of the Merced.

My gaze followed the railing to the back door and fell upon Mr. Templeton, propped upright, encased in a gigantic steel tube. The contraption stood five feet tall and gleamed in the sunlight. Thick, clear plastic holes dotted each side with latches that surely allowed access to the body inside. Dials whirred and knobs turned haphazardly as it wheezed its occupant alive. Emerson Iron Lung read the brand-plate.

Heavy rubber wheels had been crudely welded to the backside near the bottom and two handles protruded the top. A seventy-year-old head poked out the top, greasy white hair tucked behind the ears, long whiskers concealing most of the face. It turned toward me.

“There’s a straw on the deck next to this fucking coffin. Henry will help you. Then get the fuck out.”

I inched toward Mr. Templeton, beer held high.

Henry snatched a green bendy straw from an empty beer can and flew towards me. Then in one swift motion he pecked a hole in the top of the can and landed on my arm. I inserted the straw, placed the fresh beer on the top ledge of the iron lung and looked Old Man Templeton in the eyes.

Then I got the fuck out.

Aahk, aahk, aahk followed me.

“He’s saying thank you,” Mr. Templeton yelled.

***

Finally

This is my last scheduled Series Preview for the year, and I’d like to say thanks to those of you who read and enjoyed them. I’d like to say that, if invited back next year, I’ll write more about actual baseball. But I won’t.

Welcome, Void.

Why Can’t They Do This All The Time?

Posted on September 2, 2013 by Ron Brand in Featured, Game Recaps

Astros 2, Mariners 0

W: Oberholtzer (4-1)
L: Furbush (2-5)

In an unexpected turn of events Sunday at MMPUS, Warren Spahn was resurrected and snuck onto the mound to stymie the befuddled Mariners. Wearing Brett Oberholtzer’s uni, the Hall of Famer attacked the strike zone early and displayed great command, especially for a pitcher ten years in the grave.

“I’ll never forgive them for WWII,” Spahn said of Hisashi Iwakuma, who held the Astros scoreless through seven. “I’d have beaned the little bastard, but they don’t let the pitchers hit in this sissy league.”

Warren Spahn commented after the game

Furbush came in to the deadlocked tilt and quickly surrendered back-to-back doubles to Altuve and Castro, all the runs Houston would need to secure the win. Barnes followed with the rare double squeeze play, fouling off the first attempt and succeeding on the second to drive in Castro.

“Their guy was really good today,” Seattle manager Eric Wedge said. “He looked really old and frail, not much more than bones and a uniform but he was a strike thrower, he had good stuff, used all of his pitches. I felt like he could throw anything at any time. I was impressed.”

“With his fastball at 90 mph, it’s not the typical 90,” said Mariners second baseman Nick Franklin. “It’s a little sneaky, with all that boney clacking going on to distract you.”

Clemens will be suiting up for today’s holiday opener against the Twinkies. Not yet dead, the Rajah should provide a good test for the fellow cellar-dwellers. Follow along in the Game Zone.

Yet Another Loss…44-91

Posted on September 1, 2013 by Ron Brand in Featured, Game Recaps

Seafarers 3 Astros 1

contributed by Mr. Happy

I have to admit that I didn’t watch this whole game, but I did hang in there long enough to see all four runs score before switching over to ESPN for the LSU-TCU game. Keuchel was victimized in the first frame by a very tight strike zone, three seeing-eye singles and an atrocious throw by Marwin Gonzalez on a ball that should have been an inning ending twin killing. Unbelievably, that throw was not called an error, as the official scorer obviously was watching something else at the time. All three of the Mariners’ runs scored in that frame.

The Astros had lots of traffic off of classic soft-tossing Joe Saunders but were zippo-for-eight with RISP. The Home Nine plated their only run in the fourth inning, ironically on an errant catch of an attempted caught stealing that scored Brandon Barnes from 3B. Keuchel shut the hated fucking Mariners down on one hit over his final six frames, but our bats were moribund after the fourth inning.

The Mariners’ bully shut the Astros down on two hits in its 3.2 innings of work. Since the ball game was not on the line, Erik Bedard tossed two scoreless innings in relief of Keuchel.

College football started in earnest this weekend, and I have to admit that I wasn’t ready for it. LSU overcame some errors to dominate a scrappy and opportunistic TCU Hornfrogs ball club. Most teams had a traditional hope opening spanking of a patsy in town for a big payday, but not my Tigers, who travelled to Jerry World to play its opener.

We had our SNS fantasy football draft this week too, and I caught shit for drafting Colin Kapernick with my first pick. I also got Drew Brees in the second round just in case Kapernick was just a flash in the pan. However, if I am right about him, he’ll big a big double scoring threat and could be a real sleeper. We could only find eight guys to play this season; I guess that everyone else has busy lives this year.

It was really gratifying to read OSF’s personal account of his struggles with depression and to see that others here on SnS were helpful to him as he got back on his feet. He seems to be doing great, and I’m really glad about that. It takes a brave soul to step up and expose a part of himself like he did. However, what I know and what he probably knows too is that we are not alone and that there are others here who may be suffering too.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder back in 2005, which probably explains a lifetime of erratic behavior and drug use, as bipolar patients are far more likely to try to self-medicate. Heavily medicated for your protection as I am wont to say, I am one of the lucky ones whose medicines work and keep me feeling “normal,” or how I perceive normal to be since I’m not really sure about what feeling normal actually is, since I’ve never been normal.

When I would go into a depression, it was like I was walking in quicksand; everything, and I mean everything, was a struggle. Little things would go undone as I simply lacked the will or ability to do them. For a while, the big things still got done, but in the end, those things got put off too by the darkness, and that’s when the Louisiana Supreme Court saw fit to suspend me from the bar, which actually saved my life.

Depression sucks. However, I don’t know what’s worse: depression or a manic episode, of which I had plenty. That explained my racing thoughts, uncontrolled chasing after highs, fits of rage and acting out on the road, at work and in ball parks and gymnasiums. I used to explain it by saying that I was “high strung.” Yeah, right. It also explained my penchant for spending money that I didn’t have at the time—have credit card-will travel. In a manic phase, I remember feeling a burning sensation in my chest as the anger roared to the surface and simply seemed to just took over. Finally, once properly medicated and coming to the realization that anger, like every other emotion, is a choice, my anger problems disappeared overnight and haven’t returned.

My tether to a normal existence is fragile and tenuous and depends upon my medications, so I take them religiously. Many bipolar patients stop taking them when they start feeling normal, but this is a huge mistake. When I volunteer with fellow bipolar patients who aren’t as fortunate as I’ve been to get my meds right, I always tell them that they’re feeling good because of the medications. Sometimes they believe me; sometimes they don’t.

Rhymes with Nantucket

Posted on August 31, 2013 by Ron Brand in Featured, Game Recaps

Astros 1
Our Natural Rivals 7

contributed by NeilT

As Bench has pointed out, this is the series of the season, the series when Our Natural Rivals, the hated Mariners, are on home-ground for four games. There are so many names on the Mariners that I loathe: Miller, Franklin, Seager, Ibanez, Smoak . . . Smoak!!! I hate fucking Smoak!!!

Meanwhile, I am in Nantucket. You may not know Nantucket, but it is full of rich people, all of whom got rich in the limerick trade. It’s actually the limerick harvest season here, and as you drive around the island, you constantly see roadside stalls where limerick fishers are selling limericks fresh from the sea. I couldn’t afford any of the expensive limericks from the downtown shops, but in honor of the Mariners’ series, I stopped at a roadside stall and bought a half-dozen cheap limericks about the Astros. I was surprised they had any at all, but they were actually pretty well stocked. There was one about the ‘Stros general condition:

There once was a fan in Nantucket,
Whose team kept its wins in a bucket,
A girl name of Nan
Said just use a small pan
And as for the bucket, Nantucket.

There was one about current events:

The Astros are richer than Croesus,
Says Forbes, and now no one believes us,
When we say they are poor
Perched on poverty’s door
‘Cause they spent all their money to please us.

Like I said, they weren’t the highest quality limericks. I did get this one about the Mariners, and I thought it was pretty good:

When the ‘Stros play Our Natural Rivals,
My gorge burns with vomity bile.
There’s nothing I hate
More than scurvy fishbait
And the gobs who define all that’s vile.

Unfortunately, it was not a good night for the ‘Stros.

There once was a pitcher named Brad,
Whose night was incredibly bad,
He gave up five runs
By the fifth he was done
For the Swabs he was there to be had.

But not every problem was starting pitching, there were problems hitting too. The Mariners pitched Taijuan Walker, who made his major league debut, and next year will be inducted into the Hall of Fame. Walker allowed two hits and one unearned run in five innings.

There once was an offense from Houston
Who would swing with the greatest of gusto.
With one walk and four clouts
The rest were all outs
When asked to sit down they would do so.

If there was a bright spot last night, it was the bullpen. Humber came in for the last out of the fifth, and pitched three more innings of two-hit, one-earned run innings. Zeid pitched the ninth, giving up one more earned run.

There once was a bullpen from Houston
From which Porter was pickin’ and choosin’.
Regardless of names
The relievers lost games
They were less good at winnin’ than losin’.

So I guess the good news was that they didn’t blow the save, but I liked that Humber went long innings.

The guy at the limerick stand was really nice. “Call me Ishmael,” he said. He felt pretty bad for me after last night’s game, and as I was leaving he threw one more limerick into the bag. “I know how it feels to float around in a coffin. And don’t worry,” he said, “this limerick isn’t finished.”

There once was a fan in Nantucket
Whose team’s win-loss record sure sucked it.
He longed for a win
But they lost once again
And the fan was left crying “well. . .”

Sorry. Like I said, these were cheap limericks, and this one wasn’t finished. I couldn’t come up with an end rhyme. I thought of a bunch: Muck it, truck it, duck it, luck it . . . None of them seemed to be quite the thing. If you’ve read this far, you probably know how to end it anyway.

Better Late Than Never? You Decide…

Posted on August 30, 2013 by OregonStrosFan in Featured, Series Previews

Houston Astros (44-89) vs. Seattle Mariners (60-73)

Minute Maid Park, August 29 – September 1, 2013

Prologue: Yes, I’m running a tad behind (or in this case substantially behind)…. As usual… I wish I could say this is simply an OWA-related issue… But… It isn’t… In fact as writing goes, its par for the course… And to be perfectly honest with you, it drives me bat-shit crazy! [Note: not in the ‘bat-shit crazy’ vein that some have may have accused me of being/known me to be in the past, rather more in the ‘annoys the heck out of me’ bat-shit crazy vein…]. Nevertheless, here I am, and here we are, so let’s make the best of this, shall we?!? [Or at a minimum, at least please accept my apology for being any unreliable piece of crap when it comes to the timely posting of OWA Series Previews…].

Anyway… here goes it… your (1+ day late) Astros vs. Mariners Series Preview.

I’m a Texan, born and bred. Grew up a Texan. Will die a Texan. And though my heart is and will always be that of a Texan, I live in the Pacific Northwest – been here since ’94 and will likely be here until the day I die (an event which I am somewhat certain will be related to a person snapping and killing me because of yet another last-second writing project completion…). And for the most part, at least as far as (non-bandwagoneering) baseball fan affiliations go, the Northwest is Mariners country. And over the years, to the extent that I ‘had’ to choose a favorite American League team, I guess the Mariners were it. That changed this year of course, but I’ve no desire to re-visit that ‘issue’ other than to say FYB!!!

Though the change to the AL has been nothing less than a monumentally sucktacular happening from my vantage as an NL Astros fan, I’ve nevertheless sucked it up, put on my ‘happy face’, and continued to follow the team. I tried not to, believe me I tried, but at the end of the day I just can’t quit [them]. One of the reasons seems to stem from my status as a ‘displaced Texan’ (and Houstonian). Even though I’m 2,000+ miles away from (what I will always consider to be) home, something about watching and rooting for the Astros gives me a sense of connection with the place my heart will always call home. Additionally, through my association with The Bus Ride, I’ve been watching many of these kids (the Future Astros) for so long, it proved impossible for me simply to ‘turn my back on them.’ Further, and though it may seem a tad trite, I simply didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. After all, my Astros ‘fandom’ is commonly known amongst not only my friends, but also most everybody that I practice against. And now that the Astros are an AL West team, my buddies (opposing counsel, general acquaintances, etc.) feel the need to talk shit about the Astros to someone, that someone is me. And it was going to be me whether I remained an Astros fan, or had renounced my fandom thereof, so I might as well stay the course. That said… as much as they’d looked forward to talking shit about the Astros to me is as disappointed as they’ve been now that they’ve had the opportunity… As a general matter, I’ve got a high-tolerance for listening to trash-talk as it is. And as far as the Astros go after two (going on three) 100+ loss seasons almost completely immune to Astros-suck related ramblings.

“I know everything he’s got to say against me,
I am white,
I am a fuckin bum,
I do live in a trailer with my mom,
My boy Future is an Uncle Tom.
I do got a dumb friend named Cheddar Bomb who shoots himself in his leg with his own gun,
I did get jumped by all 6 of you chumps ***
I’m still standin here screamin “FUCK THE FREE WORLD!”
-Eminem, 8 Mile (his words, not mine)

Call it “The Eminem Theorum of Shut the Heck Up” I guess… but… acknowledgement of the issues (mainly, yes, the Astros: are about to finish their third straight season as shittiest team in all of Major League Baseball; they strike out more at the plate than I do at last call; their current payroll is less than my monthly Kodiac and Diet Coke budget; etc., etc., etc.) has pretty much left them in stunned silence, unable to come up with anything of substance in retort. Moreover, I am able to (honestly) say with a straight face that while it is true that the Astros have sucked mightily for a while now, this soon shall pass… And try as they might to defeat my claims of the ‘Transient Nature of the Suckitude of Astros Baseball’, they’ve been unable to as I’ve got a shit-load* [*legal term of art] of evidence (albeit circumstantial) that I am right (as is usually the case when dealing with opposing counsel – or at least the way I choose to remember it), and they are wrong (which is also usually the case when dealing with opposing counsel – or at least the way I choose to remember it). But we’ll get to that evidence in a bit…

**********

Tonight marks the second game of a 7-game home stand (4 vs. SEA) for the Astros. Over their previous two series the Astros have gone 2-1 (series win vs. Toronto) and 1-2 (series loss vs. ChiSox) making them a .500 team over the past week or so (or in other words, a hell of a lot better than they have for most of the season). Things have not been so ‘rosy’ for the Mariners, however, as they came into town riding a 7-game losing streak (broken last night). My Mariners buddies remain unfazed, however, as they’ve already penned the next 4 games as wins for SEA, and have not yet given up hopes of finishing near the top of the AL West by seasons end. [Note: Dumbasses, each and every one of them].

Probable Match-ups:

8/29 (Game 1 of 4): RHP Jordan Lyles (6-6, 5.17) vs. RHP Erasmo Ramirez (4-1, 5.44)
Giveaways: Evidently, a win…

Per brief perusal of Ramirez career stats, it doesn’t appear that he’d faced any of the current Astros in MLB play prior to last night’s game. Nevertheless, it is probably safe to presume that he will set (or tie) his career single-game strikeout record.

As for Lyles, the current Mariners were 12-39 off of him prior to the game, with 1 HR and 4 BBs. Ackley (2-2), Franklin (3-6), and Morales (2-3) had hit Lyles well in limited plate appearances, but Ibanez (1-6), Chavez (1-6), Ryan (0-3), and Morse (2-7) had not faired as well.

Game 1 Postscript: HOU lost, 3-2. I was otherwise occupied last night (Hillsboro Hops 2nd to last game of their inaugural season, among other things…) so I didn’t see the game. Per my understanding around the office this morning, however, SEA loves Hoes. And Franklin and Guitierrez love hitting off Lyles… As for Ramirez, it appears I was wrong on my strikeout record prediction…he only tied his second-best single game strikeout performance.

8/30 (Game 2 of 4): RHP Brad Peacock (3-4. 5.67 ERA) vs. RHP Taijuan Walker (NR)
Promotions and Giveaways: Friday Night Fireworks; $1 Dog Night; American League Baseball (first 10,000 fans get a permanent reminder that W. Huber Selig is a waste of oxygen…); Cat Osterman Appreciation Night (seriously, what’s not to appreciate about Cat Osterman )

Friday night is slated to be Taijuan Walker’s Major League Debut. For those of you that aren’t familiar with him, Taijuan is “the shit”… Don’t know exactly how the rook will ultimately do in his MLB debut… but… I can absolutely guarantee that he will set and break his personal single game strikeout record when he faces the Astros.

As for Peacock, the kid throws a knuckle-curve so you gotta like that… Otherwise… The current Mariners are 11-37 off of him, with 4 of those 11 hits being home runs and 3 of the remaining 7 hits being doubles. Mariners have struck out three times against Peacock, and have walked twice. Only Brendan Ryan and Michael Morse have had their butts handed to them by Peacock.

8/31 (Game 3 of 4): LHP Dallas Keuchel (5-7, 4.82) vs. LHP Joel Saunders (10-13, 5.09)
Giveaways: Batting Practice Replica Jersey (Via Houston Methodist to the first 10,000 fans. This I wouldn’t actually mind having…)

Keuchel has faced the Mariners twice in his career, and is 0-1 with a hold. Keuchel’s loss against the Mariners came in a start in which he allowed 1 earned run (2 runs total) over 6.0 innings. Overall, the Mariners have hit .250 against Keuchel (7-28), with a home run and a walk to 7 strikeouts. Endy Chavez and Micheal Morse have had multiple hits (2 each) off Keuchel, and Michael Morse and Bredan Ryan both sport 0-fers (0-4) against him.

Saunders is 2-1 against the Astros this season, though they have hit him well (line: 5.94 ERA, 16.2 IP, 26 H, 11 R, 11 ER, 3 HR, 6 BB, 13 SO, .371 AVG). Among Astros knocking the tar off Saunders’ balls are Altuve (4-12, BB, SO), Barnes (4-6, 3B, HR, BB, SO), Jason Castro (3-6, 2B, 2 SO), and Matt Dominguez (3-8, BB, SO). For the love of all that is holy, let’s hope that Saunders does not set a career high single game strikeout record against the Astros. Dude sucks… that’d be annoying…

9/1 (Game 4 of 4): LHP Brett Oberholtzer (3-1, 2.91) vs. RHP Hisashi Iwakuma (12-6, 3.03)
Giveaways: You’ll get nothing and like it.

Oberholtzer has never faced the Mariners. Iwakuma is 2-1 against the Astros over 3 starts (line: 1.89 ERA, 19.0 IP, 17 H, 6 R, 4 ER, 1 HR, 6 BB, 26 SO, .239). Here is how the current Astros have faired against Iwakuma. Iwakuma set his single-game career-high strikeout mark against the Astros in April (11), so let’s hope he doesn’t do so again…

**********

Anyway… back to “this too shall pass”…

Now everybody from the [713]
Put your mutha[friggin’] hands up and follow me

[Note: To clarify, nope, I am not an Eminem fan (or for that matter a Rap fan). Just trying to follow the OWA Series Preview Playbook here (mention some music that the masses may recognize in some form or fashion)… Or just finishing a thought… Either way, need you to bear with me just a little bit longer…]

Don’t fret, help is on the way!!! [Astros Affiliates (by the numbers, or however else I feel like asserting it at that particular moment)].

Astros MiLB Organizational Stats (via MLBFarm)
Win Percentage: 57.07% (second only to the Giants who are at 57.1%)
Wins: 464 (second only to the Mets who have 466 overall wins)
Home Runs: 595 (second only to the Mariners who have 604)

Astros MiLB Affiliates Standings:
Oklahoma City RedHawks (Triple-A): 80-60, clinched playoff berth (tied with Las Vegas 51s for best record in the 16-team Pacific Coast League)
Corpus Christi Hooks: 81-55, clinched playoff berth (best record in the 8-team Texas League).
Lancaster JetHawks: 80-56, clinched playoff berth (tied with San Jose Giants for best record in the 10-team California League)
Quad Cities River Bandits: 78-56, clinched playoff berth (third best record in the 16-team Midwest League)
Tri-City ValleyCats: 41-29, 1.5 games ahead of Lowell in the hunt for a playoff berth (best record in NYPL Stedler Division, third best record overall in the New York-Penn League)
Greeneville Astros: 38-29, clinched playoff berth (fourth best record in the 10-team Appalachian League)
Gulf Coast League Astros: 27-33, eliminated from playoff berth contention (tied for eleventh in 16-team Gulf Coast League, only Astros affiliate with a sub .500 record)
Dominican Summer League: 39-31, eliminated from playoff berth contention (third overall in 8-team DSL Bocha Chica Northwest division, twelfth overall in the 38-team Dominican Summer League)

Astros Prospects (including some second half promotions to HOU):

Astros are the top team in terms of “Prospect Points” of all MLB teams per MLB’s Mayo.

George Springer: 37/43, ‘nough said* (though if you want more, how about ‘6-tool’ player. [* actually, I’m not sure that that is ‘nough said… In the history of MLB and MiLB, there have only been 8 verified 40/40 seasons. Ever. And George Springer has 3 more games to have the ninth. And ‘oh by the way’… the 37 home runs to date DO NOT INCLUDE the two home runs he hit in the Texas League All Star Game).
Carlos Correa: Stud.
Jonathan Singleton: true, he ain’t smokin’ ‘em like we might have expected him to do… but… he’ll get there)
DeLino DeShields, Jr.
Rio Ruiz
Domingo Santana
Nolan Fontana
Preston Tucker
Mike Foltynewicz: 103 MPH
Lance McCullers: 100 MPH pre-draft
Mark Appel: (legitimate) 1.1
Kyle Smith: 9.0 IP, 2 H, 0 R/ER, 0 BB, 9 SO
Luis Cruz: 9.0 IP, 2 H, 0 ER/R, BB, 14 SO
Asher Wojciechowski
Vincent Velasquez
Josh Hader
Nick Tropeano
And lest we forget second half MLB call-ups (among others): Jarred Cosart, Max Stassi, Jonathan Villar, etc., etc., etc.

In any event, I think you get the picture I’m trying to paint here… Sure, the 2013 Astros suck (as did the 2012 Astros and the 2011 Astros), but that won’t be the case too much longer… The Astros will be good (very good in fact) in the not-so-distant future, and it will be a beautiful thing to behold.
**********

Postscript: For what it’s worth, though this is ultimately the Series Preview that I posted, it is in no way, shape, or form the Series Preview that I intended to write. Believe it or not, I’ve spent a shit-load* [* reminder: legal term of art] of time writing, and re-writing, and re-writing an Astros vs. Mariners OWA Series Preview. Unfortunately, the preview posted is not remotely related to those that I’ve put forth legitimate effort on… (Not that I didn’t put forth ‘some’ effort on this, proofreading and editing notwithstanding (which I’ll get around to tomorrow), but still…).

I’ve been promising for a long time now that I’d write on ‘The Fall, and Subsequent Rise, of OSF’ (i.e. my personal battles with depression, and the war ultimately won (as long as I remain diligent that is, which I am)). And I tried, but (for the moment) was unsuccessful (not for any reason other than there is simply a lot that I wanted (and tried to) write on the subject, but could never really put words together enough to want to hit ‘post’ on). That post is probably better left to a ‘From Left Field’ submission in any event… And yes, I will eventually get around to submitting one on the subject… But until then, it’s been almost three years now that I feel like (and have had) my feet firmly planted beneath me. But this was far from my reality in January through June of 2009, which was the time that I *officially* met many of you.

To say that I was ‘beyond broken’ in February/March 2009 is a monumental understatement. Honestly, at that time, I was all but certain that “all the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.” Ultimately I would be proven wrong, but at the time I had no clue that it even “could be” possible to put together the broken pieces – much less that it “would be” that I would ultimately prove able to do so (and make the whole stronger to boot). And it is for that “would be” that I wanted to take an opportunity to say thanks to some of you who for what you meant to my life, and recovery, at the time. While some of you were privy to what was going on in my life at the time, most of you were not. Yet knowingly or not, you provided support to me at a time when I needed it so very much. So with that, let me simply say thank you Chuck, Budgirl, Mr. Happy, Jane Doe, Coach, Gleech, Homer, Bench, Limey, and so many others of you. Know it or not, you provided me with a ‘hand up’ when I needed it so very desperately.

And a note to those of you who may currently be fighting (and by your estimation losing) a battle with depression, please know that the war is not lost and in fact can be won. I’m living proof.

“The fog has finally cleared to see,
The beautiful life You’ve given me.
***
Every next step is an extraordinary scene
I know that I’ve been given more than beyond measure
I come alive when I see beyond my fears
I know that I’ve been given more than earthly treasures
I come alive when I’ve broken down and given You control.”
-Jeremy Camp, Beyond Measure

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