Monday, September 26th, 2011

Turds 4
Astros 5

W: New Dad! | L: Don’t ask Dotel

It’s come down to this. A season as awful as many of us have ever witnessed comes to a close with a chance to fuck up the shit of a hated rival. As much as I would love to see this happen, I got one-hundred-and-four reasons to be skeptical. I guess my piss-poor attitude hasn’t had any effect on the team, at least for game 1 of this 3-game closer.

There is no match for the level of hate I have for the Cardinals. The fact that Berkman landed there has soiled his already dingy rep with me, so much so that he rides high on the shitheap, sitting bitch between Pooholes and LaGenius. Watching them crumble like day-old coffeecake has been one of the elusive pleasures this dark, dark season has given me. They are like one, big smirk and I’d like nothing more than to have our little team that couldn’t wipe that fucking thing off the face of the Gateway to the West.

Wandy looked wobbly as usual but when all was said and done, he got it done. As usual. He gave up the first Turd run in the 3rd after Freese singled then the mighty cocksucker doubled, moving Freese to 3rd. Holliday then laced a sharp single to left, scoring Freese but giving JD plenty of time to gun down Pooholes, who inexplicably headed home. Tough guy couldn’t even be bothered to try and score.

The boys took the lead pretty quickly in the bottom of the 3rd. Two straight singles, a beautiful sac bunt by Wandy and some heads-up baserunning by Barmes tied it up. Then a sweet double to left by Booj scored Towles to put the Astros ahead.

One inning later, a walk to Lee and a bomb by your right fielder, Matt Downs had the Astros up 4-1, but the Turds got one back in the top of the 5th. Wandy got hisself into quite the jam, giving up a double, walk and a single to load ’em with no out. But just as quick as he got into it, he got out of it yielding just 1 run on a Freese DP and a cocksucker K.

Major meltdown in the 8th, F-Rod starts the fun by giving up a Pooholes single and a walk to Holliday. Millsie calls on WW – sans the Dixie Dance Kings – to turn El Vendo to his weakish side. Of course, the shithead bangs a shot off the wall in left that caroms away from Booj and back towards the infield. Both turds on base scored to tie the thing up and it was looking dire for the task at hand. This all coming just as word of the Braves failings against the Phillies.

The score remained tied into the 10th as new dad Mark Melancon handled the Turds shakily but effectively. Dotel sat the Astros down 1-2-3 in the 9th and came on again in the 10th. First batter Bogie sliced a flare into left that rolled to the wall and landed him at 2nd base. A sac bunt by Booj was booted by Dotel and it’s now 1st and 3rd, no out.

The Man that is Angel Sanchez watches. He listens. He feels the situation. He knows that Dotel fucked up once, and he will again. Actually, it was just a textbook squeeze play executed to perfection. Sanchez laid it softly down the 1st base line and by the time Dotel reached the ball and attempted a scoop toss, Bogie was sliding across the plate.

So instead of the Turds dancing around like a bunch of Kansas City faggots on the turf of Minute Maid Park, the Astros celebrated in similar fashion, one of those satisfying though all-but insignificant victories that this season-from-hell hands them. But for me, this Astros fan, it’s far from insignificant. Watching the Turds eat a shit sandwich in such a crucial situation is manna for me. It keeps me alive and fuels the hunger I will feel for the season to come around again, with all the promises that a clean slate brings. I will once again have the hope and anticipation for what lies ahead for this young team and I will be there when it all begins again.

Unless the move to the fucking AL.

Personal note:

Just like the Astros, this hasn’t exactly been one of my better seasons. Mailing it in a few times and missing a few starts due to a strained work ethic. But I still enjoy writing these recaps, like pitcher likes to take the hill with it all on the line. I hope they brought you a smile once in a while. They do for me, every time.

Thanks as always to the admins, BudGirl and to all of you freaks who read this trash. Onward through the void!

Rockies 19, Astros 3

W: Millwood (4-3)
L: Harrell (0-2)

As Norm MacDonald used to say, “It’s the anal rape.” Deliverance was visited on the Astros in their last Sunday game of the season, ironically falling on Fan Appreciation Day. They trotted out all their finery to excite the crowd, and it was ripped to shreds of mud and blood by the hungry jackals from Colorado.

Squeal. Squeeeeeeeeeeal!

A franchise-record 25 hits for Colorado, just one less than the Astro record for hits allowed. A tie for its largest margin of defeat. Not quite a scorched-earth embarrassment; the tiny flower sprouting among the ash is that the team did come up with three runs on seven hits, though all were singles.

Nope, this one is all on the pitchers. Starting with Harrell, who had to be too fine and ended up losing command all the way through the next three pitchers, until Abreu worked a scoreless ninth, this was a sideshow right out of Grand Guignol and no blood could be saved or spared. Harrell opened his veins for three earned and five overall; AnRod retched up four, Pendleton was hatcheted for five, Cedeno disembowelled for five as well.

Is it getting better, or do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you, now you got someone to blame?
You say one love, one life, when it’s one need in the night.
One love, we get to share it
Leaves you baby if you don’t care for it.

This is my last recap of the season. Thank you so much to those involved for floating my name, approving me, putting up with my missteps and letting me ease back into writing while knocking off years of rust. Special thanks to everyone who read these, and those who found something within to comment on or relate to. They’ve been fun to put together and a weird chronicle of a piece of this season for me. I know that I come up short to the task, but I’ve tried to write up to the level of everyone on the site. I promise to do better next time.

My kitty says hi. She says thank you with her eyes.

Did I ask too much, more than a lot
You gave me nothing, now it’s all I got.
We’re one, but we’re not the same.
Well, we hurt each other, then we do it again.

You say love is a temple, love a higher law
Love is a temple, love the higher law.
You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl
And I can’t be holding on to what you got, when all you got is hurt.

This has been such a difficult season. We’ve seen hope die far sooner than it should have, and then subjected to its carcass being dragged through the streets for months. The brief glints of hope throughout have then been snatched away and tormented in front of us – new owner not approved, ex-players seeming happier in new places with playoff teams. The new kids brought in provided light in the pit, two months of a new kind of hope even as the vulture known as the American League perches nearby and waits for its opportunity to come.

One love, one blood, one life, you got to do what you should.
One life with each other: sisters, brothers.
One life, but we’re not the same.
We get to carry each other, carry each other.
One, one.

In the off-season, think back to this journey we’ve all taken from the light, through the darkness, and hopefully back into the light. Know that we all experience it in different ways and yet the same; we’re all joined in our stake in this community. Not just as Astro fans, or baseball fans, but in a larger scope of people with different backgrounds and beliefs and yet we pull together with common elements to build and nurture something. Our campfire of humanity, that we all warm our hands over in our own ways. If you see someone in need of even a simple word of kindness, do what you can to help. Be that light of grace to lighten someone else’s burden if you can. You can make an important difference in someone else’s life just by caring.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t know
Sometimes I feel like checking out.
I wanna get it wrong
Can’t always be strong
And love, it won’t be long.

Baby, baby, baby, light my way.
Oh, come on, baby, baby, baby, light my way.

Unless, of course, it’s DoRay.

After the game, they let the kids run the bases. Hundreds of pixies piled out of the stands and lined up orderly for that burst that makes childhood seem so pure and beautiful to the adults. Toddlers and preteens alike, all sharing in the joy of circling the bases, all with their individual motivations, secret loves and excitements.

If they let them run another thirty minutes, they might score as many times as the Rockies did.