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  • 2013 (Page 6)

DON’T CRUSH THAT DWARF, HAND ME THE PLIERS

Posted on August 23, 2013 by Dark Star in Featured, News, Series Previews

TORONTO Blue Jays (57-71) vs. HOUSTON Astros (41-85)

August 23-25, 2013
Minute Maid Park
Houston, TX

HOUSTON (OWA) – This is a pretty tough time in a pretty tough season, even for the most hopeful and optimistic of Houston Astros fans.

The team is coming off of a lovely series earlier this week with North TexasRead More

Rangers Suck

Posted on August 22, 2013 by Ron Brand in Featured, Game Recaps

Rangers use tremendous sucking power to sweep up the Astros.

WP: Bud Selig
LP: Jim Crane
SV: Nolan Ryan

contributed by Sphinx Drummond

Don’t hate Dallas because of the Rangers. There are plenty of other reasons to hate Dallas. Proximity doesn’t corrupt my hatred of the Rangers. The Rangers hatred is pure and deserves to stand on its own merit.

Hate the Rangers because they represent so much that is wrong with MLB. From being in total cahoots with the Bud Selig conspiracy to allow the Greenberg/Ryan group to purchase the Rangers at a far lower price than Jim Crane’s group was willing to pay, to having the most comprehensive accumulation of steroid cheats of all MLB teams.

Hate the Rangers because when the richer-than-he-is-smart Tom Hicks owned the club he made a bunch of stupid deals, but the worst of all was signing Alex Rodriguez to that ridiculous contract. He would later point to that contract as “one of his biggest regrets.” Ironically, after Hicks sold the Rangers, Alex Rodriguez was the largest unsecured creditor, owed nearly $25 million in deferred payments despite being traded six years earlier.

Hate the Rangers because emails presented in court show that after Hicks agreed to an exclusive negotiation period with Greenberg/Ryan, attorneys for HSG were still in discussion with another bidder, Jim Crane, about a sale price for the team. Hicks emailed the creditors on December 31, 2009 saying “Basically, the response from the MLB was to prohibit us from negotiating with anyone other than Greenberg. Their intent seems to be to lock us into Greenberg even though Crane now has a clearly superior economic deal — and may always have had based on Greenberg’s current position. We need help here. Unless the lenders weigh in, we are going to be stuck negotiating a deal that is clearly worse than Crane’s.”

There you have it. Jim Crane should be the rightful owner of the T Rangers. But he’s not, because Bud Selig didn’t want him. Bud didn’t want Crane to buy the Astros either but didn’t have the bankruptcy leverage or another viable buyer available.

What does this all add up to? Rangers win. Astros lose. But unlike Wednesday’s game, it wasn’t fair and square. Check out the game zone for real-time commentary on Wednesday’s game.

Thursday the Astros have an off day, I mean, a day off. Friday they play host to the Bluejays from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Jordan Lyles takes the mound against Todd Redmond in a 7:10 CST start time.

Time: 3:22
Attendance: 38,699.
Weather: 92 degrees, Partly Cloudy.
Wind: 8 mph, In From Center.

Too Much, and Not Enough

Posted on August 21, 2013 by Ron Brand in Featured, Game Recaps

Dallas 4, Houston 2

W: Cotts (5-2)
L: Cosart (1-1)

Contributed by Reuben

Facing their old ‘mate, Travis Blackley just a week or so after cutting him loose, the Astros got to him…a little bit…with a 2-run dinger by Matt Dominguez, his 17th of the year, in the 2nd inning. But it sure didn’t seem like enough against Blackley, who, frankly, sucked as a reliever for the Astros this year. Well, he sucked against batters who hit from the right side. The Astros had 8 such batters in their starting lineup Tuesday night but still managed only 3 hits and a walk off of Blackley in his 4 innings of work.

Jarred Cosart was good but not quite good enough, surrendering the first homer of his MLB career in the 6th inning, a 2-run shot to Adrian Beltre. The opposite-field shot flipped the game from a 2-1 Astro lead to a 3-2 Astro deficit and they did little to threaten that lead, managing only 3 singles off of 4 Ranger relievers spanning the final 5 innings while striking out 8 times.

“But, Recap Writer, How Did Your Day Go?”

My softball team played a double-header last night, beginning a best-of-three playoff series. We lost the first game in demoralizing fashion, 10-3. The second game, we were down 5-0 early, scored 4, went down 7-4, got a 3-run homer to tie it (homers are fairly rare in this league as its wooden bat, and high-arc-pitch), and then were down again 9-7 going into the 7th and final inning. Facing elimination, we reeled off a 7-run rally, begun with a clutch pop-fly double by your faithful recap writer. Final score 14-10, and we play the rubber match Wednesday night.

I also collided with a fellow outfielder while chasing a deep drive to center, so between that and all of the running I am rather sore today.

The doubleheader meant I missed the first half of the Astros game. Frankly I’m not sorry I missed seeing Blackley’s 4 innings of work, because he is quite possibly the slowest worker in the history of organized baseball. I do regret missing Dominguez’s bomb off him though. All in all though, I am sick of the goddam Rangers. Too much Rangers. Schedule-makers, please take note. Also, Neal Cotts. Where does this guy get the nerve to hang around baseball this long, still being a good reliever? I saw enough of this asshole in the ’05 World Series. Then he was with the goddam Cubs for a few years, wasn’t he? Go away, Cotts.

From God’s Lips to Elmore’s Ear

Posted on August 20, 2013 by BudGirl in Game Recaps, News

Rangers 16, Astros 5
W:Garza (9-2)L:Harrell (6-14)

recap

I could have sworn there were more than two errors in this game. I just seem to remember a lot of plays not being made, especially in the third inning. An interesting to note about the pitching in the game only 10 of the 16 runs scored by that team North of Houston were earned. The Astros still would have lost, but what a difference some better defense would have made. How often can we say that about this team? Daily?

The Hero of the game and the reason I’m glad I suffered through it was Mr. Jake Elmore. He came in and caught 4 innings then pitched a SCORELESS 8th inning. Maybe they found someone for the bullpen? Doubtful, but still a funny thought. Elmore was the only pitcher for the Astros that did not give up a run.

The Rangers have been beating up on the Astros for quite a few years already. Last night there was a stat shared that the Rangers have won 31 of the last 38 games. Ugh. It’s hard to be an Astros fan in Texas right now. And I have to say that some of my family members aren’t getting Christmas gifts from me. Ranger fans are as bad as Cubs fans. And I hate Cubs fans.

Happy Thoughts

I noticed on the boards talk of meeting up to watch the Express take on the JetHawks. I thought about joining the group but nothing seems to be set so I’m just going to take my Thursday and Friday off and enjoy doing as little as possible in the Houston area.

This makes me smile every time I see it.

Astros @ Rangers Series Preview

Posted on August 19, 2013 by Ebby Calvin in Featured, Series Previews

Seven idiots piled into three canoes and a kayak.  Three days lay before them, unmapped by design, planned specifically to be unplanned.  They brought three coolers of beer, two bottles of Jack Daniels and one flashlight.

They were drunk already, having driven all night from Austin to Arkansas, but they were determined to press on and ignore the call of sleep.  So when the final beer of the night was drained at 7am, the first beer of the next day cracked open at 7:10am.  It was a sprint, not a marathon.  And it wasn’t much of a sprint.

***

The outfitter gave them a two-sided laminated sheet of paper that was generously labeled “Map.”  It had some of the markings of a map – land was beautifully decorated by a generic flat green and water was, predictably, blue – but that’s where the information portion of the “map” ceased.  The Buffalo River elegantly weaved its way from the bottom left corner to the top right, and if you flipped it over and rotated it 90 degrees, the River continued in the same direction.  There was no legend, no North bearing and no other markings but for two small circles on the back page.  The first, he told them, was the town of Gilbert.  If they busted ass that first day they’d be there by nightfall.  But if they wanted to take it easy, as he expected, he would happily pick them up there on the third day.  The second spot was a simple Access Point, where they’d parked their cars an hour before they left.  The Access Point was where most river-goers made their final land-fall, and where these seven idiots set their sights.

After a chugging contest in which the loser took the helm of the kayak, they were off.  The map found its way into a dry bag and Mr. Daniels came out, ready to party.

***

Astros @ Rangers

Monday, 8/19/13 7:05pm

Harrell (6-13) vs Garza (8-2)

Tuesday, 8/20/13 7:05pm

Cosart (1-0) vs TBD

Wednesday, 8/21/13 7:05pm

Bedard (3-9) vs Holland (9-6)

***

I woke to gurgling and thrashing as my unmanned canoe drifted gently atop the kayak, its captain now swearing loudly and clawing at the water.  My shipmate hadn’t stirred in the commotion, but he woke up in the water a moment later after the second canoe t-boned us.

We oared over to a tiny island, poured a swig of Jack on its surface and declared it – and every island thereafter – as Shot Island.  We passed the bottle in a circle and jumped back in the boats.

And then everything was named.  Shot Islands.  Smoke Caves.  Shotgun Shores.  And dreams of reaching Gilbert by dark vanished.

***

Injuries

Rangers

Berkman – Twinkie poisoning

Feliz – sprouted another toe

Harrison – inverted penis

Kirkman – bad hair day

Lewis – cavities

Ogando – prison

Tepesch – bukkake appointment

Astros

Gonzalez – right shoulder

Martinez – left wrist

Villar – left thumb (day-to-day)

White – blah

***

Nightfall approached, so six of my closest idiots and I began searching for a place to camp.  One spot was too rocky, one spot was too close to the water, one spot was too muddy.  Some of these idiots were from Dallas, for God’s sake, and they wouldn’t camp just anywhere.

At the back-end of a hairpin turn we found The Spot.  There was just enough beach to lodge the rafts on shore, and a wooden trail off to the right led up to a grassy meadow straight out of Tolkein’s writings.  Acres of lush green spread in all directions, and as the sun set below a thick overhang of clouds we stood and watched, mouths agape at the vast expanse of Arkansas and the beauty of it all.

In the distance we saw lights of a small town and we decided we hadn’t done so bad after all, as Gilbert was but a stone’s throw away.

We broke camp in the eaves of a nearby forest and left the coolers and bottles sealed.  A fire cackled to life as the canoes were unburdened of their treasures.  We sat around it, gazing at the cloudbank overhead.  Nobody said a word.  The greys of the clouds and smoke desaturated the greens of the grass and forest, and soon it was misting.  Seven idiots sat in utter greyness looking upward.

The fire grew taller and fought away the mist.  Translucent ash spread outward as smokes of various potencies and qualities melded to create a purple plume that stretched to the heavens, threatening the clouds in an act of earthly dominance.  Rain followed, but the fire grew stronger, burning hotter, raging louder.

And then it died.  The rain stopped.  The sky divided.  Greys receded to blacks and light came down from above, as millions of stars looked down upon us.

***

Promotions

Tuesday – First 30,000 Smile Generation Texas Camo Cap, so all those people who pretend to be Rangers fans can simultaneously pretend to be hunters

Wednesday –Nolan’s Beef Sausage will only cost $1, so Bud need only bring a fiver.

***

I awoke in the same spot, one of seven idiots sitting in a circle.  The clouds were back, but the meadow was gone, the forest was gone.  There was no trace of a fire.  Just a rocky beach at the back-end of a hairpin turn.  We stared at each other aghast until somebody realized it – we’d been there two nights.

We quickly loaded up the boats and oared as fast as we could to the town we once saw in the distance.  We could make it to Gilbert, get in the cars and figure the rest out later.  But as we rowed we saw nothing.  No town, no distinguishable marks on the map.  I fished my cell phone out of my dry bag and called the outfitter.  I didn’t know where we were, but we needed help.  Two hours later he came upon us in a canoe with an outboard motor and towed us back to shore.

We’d gone 200 yards.

 

Diazepam

Posted on August 17, 2013 by Ron Brand in Featured, Game Recaps

Diazepam

Astrolina 8
Angel 2

contributed by NeilT

I was leaving to surf the big waves at Trestles when my assistant, Ms. Leslie, called. I was going to ignore her, but I thought it might be a client. Rent was due, and money was tight. She was calling on her own phone because Ma Bell had cut of the office phone. I was lucky I didn’t pay Leslie.

“Yeah?”

“Brad,” man her voice was sexy, “you’ve got someone here in the office. It’s a guy named Luhnow. He says he wants to talk to you about Astrolina.”

I had heard of Luhnow, but hadn’t met him. Of course back in my day Biggio and Pam Gardner ran the team, now it’s this guy Luhnow. I knew exactly what he’d look like. All these young general managers look the same: hair combed, tie tight, pants creased, earnest. They all carry slide rules and IPads, and when I got to my office on the wrong side of Petco he didn’t disappoint. Me? I had put on a shirt, for once.

“Mr. Ausmus,” his handshake felt just the right degree of strong, like he practiced, “I know your history with Astrolina, and I . . . I mean the Organization . . . we need your help.” He paused, as if he were searching for the right words. “Mr. Ausmus . . . Brad, do you mind if I call you Brad?” Suddenly I did mind, but what the hell. I wanted to get this over and go surfing. “Astrolina is missing.”

It didn’t surprise me. Last time I’d seen Astrolina was June, when Angel brought muscle to town and left me and her cut up and bleeding down on the banks of the bayou. She lost and blamed me. I said to hell with it and came home to San Diego. It was summer, and there were waves.

But I had kept up with Astrolina. It had been a rough couple of months, with a lot more losses than wins. Let me say that again, a lot more losses. Starting pitching had been pretty good, there had been some hits, but the bullpen sucked and defense had been spotty. Those months were worse than rough, the worst I’d ever seen.

Now the Stros were going back to Anaheim, that damned Disney town, and they needed Astrolina. Luhnow told me that the ‘Stros had traded WW for cash considerations, just so he could afford my fee. I was going to be able to pay the rent.

I knew where to start, and I called Boss Rat, but Rat said he hadn’t seen Astrolina since that time in Houston. He said that Angel got paid the wins Astrolina owed her, and that as far as he was concerned, they were even. There was only one other place to look: the House Next to Limey’s.

It’s the place where you go when bottom has been hit and you’re still going, still spiraling down. It was a foul place with trash and weeds in the yard and where the paint has already peeled and now the Hardy Plank is rotting. The screen door was hanging on one hinge and the windows were broken by rocks. The door was ajar—who’d bother locking the House Next to Limey’s?—so I walked right in. The outside was bad, and the inside was worse. There was no electric and I pulled out a flashlight and my .45.

I found her in a back room on a rust-stained cotton-ticking mattress. There were no sheets on the bed, and it looked like a dust mite Sandals. Astrolina was always a beautiful woman, but I had never seen her look so bad. At first I thought she was dead, but she was just out, out as far as she could go and still be breathing. There were bottles on the floor, Gatorade, Vitamin Water, Excel, all the hard stuff, even coconut water. And there were bottles of pills. I picked up a pill bottle. Diazepam. She was overdosed on anti-depressants.

A slapped her a bit to get her talking and then I made her walk, back and forth, back and forth, in that foul wreck of a tract house. She kept mumbling that I should leave her alone, that she only wanted to go back to sleep, that she wouldn’t go to Anaheim, but I finally got her to the nearest Starbucks for a triple espresso and then got her on a plane at Hobby. I called Luhnow and he said he’d be there to meet the plane at Ontario.

***
It turned out all right, the third win in a week, which hadn’t happened since mid-June. It was the fifth straight Astros win in Anaheim, but of course there had been that June sweep by Angel back home in Houston. Peacock pitched into the seventh, giving up an unearned run in the 5th after an Altuve throwing error, and another in the 7th after a Villar fielding error and some weird stuff with Dominguez that I can’t figure out. Zeid replaced Peacock in the 7th and faced one batter for a Dominguez-Altuve-Wallace double play.

Chapman came in for one out in the 8th, and Lo shut it down in the 9th. The bullpen held.

There was some ugly offense, but what do you expect? In the 3rd, Villar walked and reached third on a throwing error. Then Grossman struck out. Then Wallace struck out. Then Altuve grounded out. A runner at 3rd with no outs, and no runs score. You could probably feel the despair in the Game Zone.

But with 8 runs, there was also some good stuff. Hoes led off the 5th with a double, then moved to 3rd on a Villar single, and scored on a Grossman single. Wallace grounded out, but moved Grossman to 2nd, and the bases loaded when Altuve walked. Castro walked scoring Villar, and Grossman scored on a Carter sac fly after Angels starting pitcher, Jerome Williams, was run.

Carter had a great night. He scored Wallace in the 7th on a single. And in the 9th hit a 3-run homer, that’s number 23, to score Altuve and Castro. That’s how it’s supposed to work in the American League, right? Dominguez followed back-to-back with his 15th homer.

This could have been a Wednesday. Shoot, this could have been Christmas.

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