October, 1990. I was 14 years old and hardly an itch in my daddy's crotch. I remember the times. They was tough.
I had just started high school. Hadn't had an alcoholic beverage yet. Hadn't had sex (with a partner) yet. Couldn't drive. Couldn't buy a lottery ticket; mostly because there wasn't one yet in Texas (right?). The Astros were properly in the NL West and the St Louis Cardinals were some team we played a few times a year, but no one really cared much. I hated the Mets as much as any team who ever existed and the Braves were the perennial doormat of the NL. Bad uniforms, bad pitching, terrible records.
Little did we know.
So, raise your glass and have a hearty fuck you Ted Turner! As much as my father grew up hating the Yankees for boring him to tears every postseason, I hate you for ruining my teens and 20s with the Braves.
The Astros may not be playing for anything this October, but at least you won't be either.
So I go back to an old familiar friend, after 16 years. "GOD, I hate the FUCKING METS."