This week in Astros’ baseball has been so horrific, so remarkably putrid, it’s almost beyond words. I haven’t checked the Chronicle or Astros.com today, but I fully expect to see some perspective pieces soon…the kind that make you realize that baseball is just a game and in the grand scheme of things doesn’t mean all that much.  Like the one about the transgendered left-handed midget albino eskimo kid fighting against the odds to get grass to grow on the Tundra just to honor the memory of his parents who were killed when a truck full of rancid blubber caught fire while they were trying to get him to a try-out for the Mat-Su Miners.  When you read about all of the issues kids like that have, how can you be upset that Wesley Wright grooved a couple of meatballs to the Yankees sunday?  This is what we call a distraction.

For instance, you might not notice that the paragraph you just read doesn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense after seeing this:

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The last time we spoke (I missed you too), the Astros were coming off a week where they has gone 1-5 against the Cardinals and the Brewers.  So in that respect, a 2-4 week is an improvement.  That may be the only way to take anything good out of the recent on field product.  Everything else about the week has been an epic, well, to use the vernacular of the internets…

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The problem with promising something to people is they start noticing when you don’t deliver whatever it was you promised.  I have enough trouble squeezing out more than two of these a year, so jumping to a couple a month was going to be more difficult than watching Top Chef and not hoping that Padma Lakshmi’s clothes are going to fall off during Restaurant Wars.

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I tend to believe in sophomore slumps.  When I was a freshman in high school, thousands of grey hairs ago, I was dating one of the better looking girls in my class…she liked to kiss, and with her, I instinctively knew the buttons to push (Blasphemous Rumours, Dr. Pepper on the rocks, maybe a Monte Cristo) so that on a good night, a little hand under the shirt action would be an option. As these things tend to go, the girl faded away, and I moved on to other things, but expectations were raised.  Sadly for me, even though second base was easy to obtain with my next girlfriend, stretching it out to three was out of the question, not that I stopped trying.  What I thought was aggressive, she began to regard as creepy, which lead to not even being able to double on occasion, and so began the summer of my discontent.

Which brings me to Hunter Pence.

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