Well, it’s come to this: two teams playing out the string, still enmeshed in less than stellar seasons, trotting out before sparse and lethargic spatterings of fans, still packing and unpacking for trips to Nowhere, or in this case, The Big Nowhere in Ohio, and wondering how in the world it all went to hell this bad.  And, ladies and gentlemen, one of these teams is your 2009 Houston Astros.  The eternal optimism of spring has given way to the warm bucket of shit of late summer–speaking of which, does anyone else think that the logo on the Wyoming Cowboys helmets looks like someone wiped their ass on it prior to kickoff?  No? I guess that’s just me.  Anyway, you know the score by now: an erratic pitching staff, sputtering offense (note the correct spelling, Limey) and so-so defense has our team sitting here at 70-73 on September 14th.  “90 wins,” Cooper?  No, but they’d probably be ten wins better without you along.  While to some extent interesting, it’s been mostly sad and exasperating to watch a career baseball man do and say things that just aren’t said and done at this level–at least not in the light of day.  Had McLane canned him during the season, he’d be finished in baseball after a season full of snafus.  At least now, he’ll get to do the Art Howe gig for the Brewers FSN affiliate next year.  Good luck, Cecil and you’ll be pleased to know they have Costcos in Milwaukee.

Astrosmanager, Cecil Cooper with general manger, Ed Wade in background

Monday, 6:10pm

Wandy Rodriguez, (13-9, 2.76) v. Bronson Arroyo, RHP (12-12, 4.17)

Helluva a year for Wandy–he finally broke out and he did it in a big way.  Not a bad record and that 2.76 ERA says a lot.  He’s been dominant against the Reds this season (0.50 ERA) and he’s coming off a seven inning three hit performance against the Braves.  He has clearly established himself as a solid #2 in any team’s starting rotation.  Too bad the guys on both sides of him didn’t hold up their end of the deal.  Arroyo has eaten innings like it is going out of style and is on dope.  Just ask him.  He essentially told the world (and Bud Selig) “Yeah, I like to take a lot of shit and it makes me play better.  What the fuck are you going to do about it?”  Bud got flushed and fanned himself and called for a UN resolution condemning good dope but that’s about it.  So, you should see Wandy and Bronson for a good portion of the game and at least one of them will hitting the HGH pipe between innings.

Tuesday, 6:10pm

Roy Oswalt, (9-6, 4.03) v. Kip Wells, RHP (1-4, 5.21)

Oswalt is pining for Jake and yearns to be on the ranch “hunting” with his best bud.  There’s really no other reason to explain the highly mediocre year that Roy has turned in.  He’s had his usual share of nicks and gimps but it’s still a head scratcher trying to figure out why the same guy who can go out and dominate one night, can five nights later look highly unbalanced.  I guess the cap on Roy’s season is that he has no decisions against the Reds this year, a team he has owned like no pitcher has ever owned a club.  Time to break one off, Roy.  You know, for old time’s sake.  He’s going against Kip Wells, a Baylor type who probably sits around all day flipping channels between Robert Tilton and tranny porn.  Roy, if you can’t beat this guy, go ahead and head for the ranch–Jake’s got the tent warm.

Veteran pitchers, Roy Oswalt and Jake Peavy proclaim "no quit" in either.

Wednesday, 6:10pm

Bud Norris, (5-3, 5.44) v. Justin Lehr, RHP (4-2, 4.93

Norris is having a typical rookie campaign–some good games, some dumb luck games, some games getting his ass handed to him.  What’s his upside?  Don’t know–haven’t heard anyone call him Drysdale but he’s probably going to be part of your 2010 rotation based on what the club has and what they can get over the winter.  Not having to listen to Cooper will do doubt help him but probably doesn’t make him a 20 game winner.  Lehr is right handed, pitches for the Reds, and likes screwing goats, humming “The Internationale” during the Star Spangled Banner, and enjoys kicking old people in the groin.    If Norris can’t get up for this game, then he’s a goddamn pansy.

Injury Report

Arias: strained right hamstring.  Learning the harpsichord.

Blum: bruised shin and tired of all this shit.  Fondling plane tickets to Hawaii every hour on the hour.

Astros infielder, Geoff Blum declares, "Aw, fuck this shit!"

Hampton: fucked up beyond hope.  Currently on the live dissection table at the UT Medical Center in Galveston.

Oswalt: lower back tightness.  Yeah, you get that from hours and hours spent working on your website, Mr. 44.  Now, go throw the goddamn ball.

REDS:

Thirteen (13) guys on the DL including Taveras, Harang, Volquez, and Nix.  Did the team bus hit a fucking IED in Pittsburgh?

Reds team bus after IED explosion in Pittsburgh

Promotions

Tuesday: “Bark in the Park” night.  This means you get to bring your goddamn yappy-assed dog to the game.  Frankly, it’s probably a good idea all the way around: the dogs won’t know they’re watching two shitty teams and will get the opportunity to take a dump in one of the ugliest parks in America.  The fans will have the privilege of watching some hapless clod slip on a fresh pile, while wearing a Joe Morgan throwback.  What could be better?  Pete Rose would be laughing his ass off before hurriedly getting back to marking off his prop bets.

Wednesday: “Senior Citizens Specials.”  In the middle of the fifth, two lucky old people will get to do the old put the head on the bat and spin around before running to first base.  Both will probably die.  A living winner will get year’s supply of liver from the local Armour plant.  Otherwise, if you’re sixty or above, you get a firm handshake and a half off coupon at SAS.   Nothing looks snappier in Cincy than some of those taupe colored velcro strapped loafers.  Ask JimR.

Final Thoughts

My last preview of the year (all have come at EXACTLY the same time as a work or family issue was developing).  I’m sure you’ll thank me for their relative brevity, lack of father/son baseball as a metaphor for life melodramatic bullshit, and the fact that I have managed to keep you somewhat abreast of the minimal facts of the series at hand and the goings on with team president, Pam Gardner.  Just trying to be of help.

Astros team president, Pam Gardner (source: 2009 Astros Press Guide)

Though our team isn’t going to be in the post season where we want them (you may need to get used to that for a while), this is nevertheless a fantastic time of year–football is back, Texas is beginning to cool to somewhere under 100 degrees, you can shoot harmless migratory birds with glee and wild abandon and eat them, the bratty assed kids are back in school allowing you to sneak home for a nooner with your significant other or others, and you can soon look up into that brilliant harvest (we called it Comanche) moon while you’re taking a leak through the hedges into your neighbor’s back yard.

I played golf with Lurch and austro the other day, and afterwards we had lunch and played cards.  Lurch cheats at Texas Hold ’em and bangs cocktail waitresses two at a time.  austro is a goddamn Rice grad and was formerly a carney.  What the fuck are the odds on shit like that?  There should be a fucking hall or at least a goddamn monument at fucking Rice dedicated to Rice carneys.  He can break down a carney tent, fuck people over in that fucking milk bottle game, and then go do fucking trigonometry.  He’s a pretty good putter, too.  Fucker.

Goodbye 2009 season, goodbye Cecil, goodbye lots of old guys, and goodbye listening to J.D. and Brownie until we meet again.  Sometimes, it’s not all fun, but looking at this site now and then seldom gets old.  I think I speak for a lot of us when I give a big “Gracias” and a hearty whatever to the men and women who make this site what it is. 

Adios, amigos.  Pound that Budweiser.

Astrosteam president, Pam Garner with unidentified team official during "official dress uniform day" at team headquarters.

The hot, dry summer of 2009 is on its way out and a rainy (woohoo–no complaints here!) September brings the last series against the Buccos for the 2009 season.  It comes a little early in the month to have the usual Aaaaarrrrgghh!! reference,  so rather than ignore the significance of the day, I will give you a little insight as to what September 11th means to me. 

Friday, September 11, 7:05 p.m.

Charlie Morton, RHP (3-7, 5.43) vs Bud Norris, RHP (4-3, 6.05)

Morton has been shelved a few extra days to give his groin time to rest.  That’s what those late night rum parties with the wenches can do to you.  Norris began his major league career with a Bang! Bang! Bang! 3 win start then went Dud! Dud! Dud! before his last start Sunday against the Phillies.

Saturday, September 12, 6:05 p.m.

Ross Ohlendorf, RHP (11-9, 3.97) vs Brian Moehler, RHP (8-10, 5.10)

Ohlendork has had a measurable turnaround since the All Star Break this year– 7 an 7 with a 4.64 ERA  before to 4 and 2 with a 2.70 ERA after.  Unfortunately in his last start, despite pitching 8 innings without giving up an earned run, he did not earn a win (wonderful Pirate run support shoots another pitcher in the foot groin).  Moehler is 1-1 with a 3.57 ERA in his last four starts, but the Bucs have been his nemesis this year, presenting him with a Jolly Roger in 2 of his three starts against them.

Sunday, September 13, 1:05 p.m.

Paul Maholm, LHP (7-8, 4.72) vs.  Felipe Paulino, RHP (2-8, 6.34)

Maholm hopes to become the third Pirate pitcher to reach 10 wins this year, but would have to pretty much win all of his last starts to get there.  If history repeats itself, he may have a good start because he is 7-4 with a 4.44 ERA in 12 career starts against the Good Guys.  Paulino risks becoming Chris Holt: his last two games were quality starts where he earned loses because the Astros didn’t score a dadgum run while he was in the game.

FRIDAY–Price Matters Days $10 gets you a ticket, hot dog and soda! Coke Value Night! Friday Night Fireworks !  9/11HeroesNight!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             and if that isn’t enough—–this Fabulous Patriotic Cap!

Valverde Bobblehead

SUNDAY–Price Matters Days! Scout Parade 2! $1 Drumsticks!  and……..

a Replica Minute Maid Park! 

What September 11 means to me…..

Well, I was home to see the attacks on the World Trade Center on that day.  A day I should have been at work. Teaching chemistry. But I wasn’t .  I was home.  In bed.  I got a call and turned on the TV.  It is a little fuzzy, but I remember. 

What I don’t remember alot of is August 31, 2001.  The day I had a stroke. 

At the ripe old age of 33.  Yep 33. 

I remember fixing breakfast for my son.  Oatmeal.  I remember slurring my words.  Then my right foot slipping out of my slipper and my back slowly sliding down the doors of my double oven and ending up on the floor.  I kept trying to get up, but felt more like a roach wagging its feet in the air.  My son went and tried to wake up his dad saying, “Mom fell and she can’t get up.”  He just rolled over and snored.  A few minutes later my son ran back in the bedroom and yelled at him “She STILL CAN’T GET UP!!”  My husband groggily came into the kitchen and said, “Gimme your hand”, to which I responded, “I did”.  This alarmed him, because my left arm did not move. He then said, “Smile.”  Then, “Oh my God!” and he immediately called 911.

By the time the ambulance got there, I had completely gained control of my left side again, but they strapped me down and took me to the hospital anyway.  (I did NOT want to go, of course) The initial CAT scan showed no bleed, but since it was Labor Day weekend and no one works on that entire weekend in a hospital, they kept me there until Tuesday before doing an MRI.  Which showed a bleed.  A small one, but a bleed.  Then they decided I needed every test in the book to see why an otherwise healthy 33 year old with no family history of stroke had indeed, had one.  Ever had dye pumped in every artery in your brain?  I have.  It ain’t no fun.  (ok, we are gonna run this tube from your groin to your shoulder, then we are gonna pump this warm liquid into your brain and it is gonna hurt, but you CANNOT, you CANNOT blink, breathe, or move even the slightest because you could DIE. Ok, RELAX. Here we go!)

After millions of tests costing trillions of dollars. the  medical gurus decided I was special. SPECIAL.  That one in three million.  Yeah, if you read that insert that comes with the birth control pills, it tells you that one in 3 million or so could have a stroke, with no other apparent cause. No more BCP for me!

So, because I was so special, I was able to sit and watch the horrors that unfolded on my television screen, that September 11th morning, and be thankful that I was just alive……….. to see them.