Detroit 9, Houston 0

W: Verlander (4-2)
L: Humber (0-7)

When I was 11 or 12 I somehow ended up playing on a church league basketball team. I have no idea how this happened – I didn’t go to church, and although I was big for my age and athletic, I really wasn’t much of a basketball player at all. I couldn’t dribble, couldn’t shoot, and I guess I could sorta rebound if the ball came to me because I was a little taller than most other kids, but that was all I brought to the court.

We were told that there were two teams and two levels in this league, A and B. B was for the younger kids, and A was for the high school guys. We found out the truth at our first game, when it was revealed that the B team was just the other high school guys who weren’t on the A team for some unknown reason. I think our season was eight games, and I remember getting beat regularly by scores like 110-4, 108-6, that sort of thing. We did get ten points once, but I don’t think any team scored less than a hundred on us.

My frustration was extreme, and being the preteen smartass I was, I ended up taking it out physically on other players. I’d foul the hell out of them, go up for rebounds with the only purpose to rake an elbow across someone’s face or drag a knee into their groin. It was very difficult for me to deal with, and I was a real piece of shit kid, so coupling those things made those games slightly more adventurous than they would’ve been otherwise.

I loved to fight though. Nothing made me smile more than when some guy decided he wanted to throw down with me. Looking back on things, and my outlook on life until I was, shit – lots older – I don’t know how I’m still alive and without a police record.

I’ve seen at least my share of death, disease, pain and horror. I’ve dodged life-threatening circumstances too many times to count, and not all of them came to me because of my big mouth and tendency to explode first and pick up pieces later. Time and the miracles of modern medicine have helped me to dial this back to the levels that everyone else probably operates under, but sometimes I miss barely holding back that bright edge. Sometimes I miss scaring the living shit out of people.

Which brings us to our little four-game set with the big, bad, scary Tigers. Did we expect to win one of these? I doubt it. Did we expect to at least make them competitve? Ennh. Maybe one of them, but surprisingly the first two were tight contests. The last two though, against Scherzer and Verlander – those were going to be fuckstompings of the First Order and sadly, the ones we will remember the most.

Detroit didn’t need Verlander for this one, and Houston probably would’ve rolled over if Mrs. Verlander had been pitching, but she wasn’t and this one was nothing but ugly from the beginning. A quick two-run shibby by Prince Fielder in the first was the first punch in the face, the one that got your attention. After that the Tigers batted around in the second and added five more. An hour in and two innings done, but so were the Astros on this bright spring day.

Verlander gave up a couple of walks and another runner reached on an error by Fielder by the seventh. Thus far it seemed likely that the Astros would be no-hit, if for no other reason than the amazing play made by Cabrera in the fifth.

It was beginning to look like Leyland would have a tough call to make in the ninth because his pitch count was going to be high when Pena finally broke up the no-hitter. After that the visitors banked the plane in and landed the four-game sweep.

When you reduce it to its elemental level, baseball is about hope. Right now, frustration is settling everywhere like a thick mist of dust. Houston has lost ten of eleven, four straight, and 18 of its last 22. The so-called pitching staff is being reworked to try to shake some of that cloud away, but it’s not going to disappear soon. We’re at the point we knew would come, where some of the early experiments failed, but we didn’t expect that point to come just yet. It’s here though, and it’s time for us to stand in there and take our beating while we try to keep that flicker of hope sheltered from the assault. While this numbing pain is being inflicted, it sure would make it easier to get some kind of reassurance that there is a plan, and that there are signs of promise instead of an endless future of these teams going all Mr. Blonde on us.

Too bad, suckers. It’s never, ever going to be easy. Pain and fear are the other side of the coin, and you’re either in it until it flips or too weak for the task. Buy the ticket, take the ride.

Detroit 17, Houston 2

contributed by Mr. Happy

This loss is on me. I started Harrell on my fantasy league team tonight, lured in by his 3-0 and sub-2.00 ERA in his last four starts, but tonight was not his night. Harrell had no command of anything tonight, and he walked four and allowed ten knocks in his 4.1 frames, giving up eight earnies to swell his ERA from 3.60 to 5.03. Of course, our less than stellar long relief staff did nothing to distinguish itself tonight, surrendering 11 hits and nine runs (eight earned) in 4.2 innings.

Carlos Corporan, who’s had a nice stretch at the plate recently, hit a home run in the seventh inning to spoil Scherzer’s shutout. The Astros tacked on another meaningless run in the bottom of the ninth, but it was purely academic and to fuck me again because Al Alburquerque also is on my fantasy league team. The Tiger whom I didn’t start was Jhonny Peralta, who was 2-6 with two RBI’s. FML.

This was an all-around mailed in effort, a total ass kicking. The Tigers go for the road broom tomorrow, sending Justin Verlander to the bump against Philip Humber. I like their chances.

Tigers 4
Astros 3

contributed by NeilT

The NRA was in Houston today, along with a Rockets playoff game, and the Detroit Tigers. Like most Fridays I had a burger for lunch at the Boat House at Discovery Green. It was more crowded than usual, with the kind of peculiar crowd one would expect at an NRA convention. Glad to have their money.

Our table was next to a group of exhibitors in matching shirts with nametags that said “Loon Lube”, which reminded me of an oddly disconcerting walk I once had down the personal lubricant aisle at the Montrose Walgreen’s. It’s also the deodorant aisle, and the shaving aisle, and I’m saying right now, loud and clear, I wasn’t there for the personal lubricants. It was startling though, and I revisited the Montrose Walgreen’s on the way home, just to refresh my memory. After all, Fister was pitching.

Swiss Navy. Gun Grease. Boy Butter. It’s not stuff they sell at the Rice Village Walgreen’s. I checked. Gun Grease, that’s pretty funny; so is Boy Butter. At the Montrose Walgreen’s you can buy this stuff in industrial sizes, and in camo.

Astroglide.

Now you know how Fister loads up the ball. Now you know how it feels to get fisted, NTTAWWT.

It was not a bad game, all in all. It’s the first game I recall this season that the Astros came from behind to take the lead. The Tigers went up with one run in the second, and picked up a second run in the 4th on a Cabrera home run.

The Astros big inning was in the 7th, off Fister, who got KY’d with a Dominguez double, then an Ankiel scoring error. Dominguez scored when Gonzalez reached on an Infante fielding error. Ankiel scored on a Grossman single. Altuve, who had 3 hits for the evening and who had warmed the Tigers’ announcers’ hearts, drove in Gonzalez with the strangest hit ever. Astroglide.

Which brings me back to Loon Lube. Do you think it’s only used among loons? Birds, or the human kind?

Veras at the top of the 9th gave up a two run homer to Alex Avila. Use more Boy Butter, please.

Disclaimer: Loon Lube makes a lot of good flyfishing stuff, the best of which makes flies float. I’ve also used their putty strike indicators and their putty weights for sinking flies. If I were Mr. Happy, I would never leave Missoula.

Detroit 7, Houston 3 (14 innings)

contributed by Mr. Happy

We should have won tonight’s game. Porter did a great job pulling all of the levers and trying to win in regulation, Castro and Pena supplied the runs courtesy of two shots into the Crawford Boxes and, for the most part, the pitching was solid. In particular, Blackley, Veras and Clemens were electric good. Lyles made some mistakes over the plate but displayed some big swing-and-miss action in notching six strikeouts and pitched well enough for five innings to deserve a win.

The problem was execution by two players: Wright and Ankiel. For starters, Wright’s plunking of the hitter that he was sent in to get, Fielder, really was inexcusable. For crying out loud, don’t put the tying run on that way; make the damn guy deserve to be on base. And then Ankiel, who had entered the game as a pinch hitter and who actually got a hit that wasn’t a home run or a double, bobbled a ball that allowed Fielder to score all the way from 1B on the double cost us the ball game because it was over once the Tigers tied the score.

It was just a matter of when and how the Astros would lose, as Chuck pointed out. However, I have to hand it to the Astros as they fought hard and extended the game to 14 frames. Keuchel couldn’t get through the Tigers’ order a second time, but there really was no one else down there to use in a tie game since Porter had to save his other long reliever, Cisnero, for another game or for later in that game. However, since Keuchel ran out of gas in the 14th, having thrown 78 pitches in 4.1 innings, Cisnero had to come in to get the final two outs, tossing 10 pitches and surrendering the two run two bagger by Tuiasosopo that sealed the Astros fate. Keuchel, who allowed seven hits and walked four, bent but didn’t break until the 14th inning, so he’ll probably take that back with him to OkC today.

There was speculation in tonight’s very active Game Zone that I might have to stretch tonight’s recap. Au contraire, mon frère. I made it to four paragraphs with no sweat. We do it again tonight, kids, so come see us in the Game Zone. I’ll be surprised if the Astros don’t make a roster move to bring up another fresh long reliever for tonight’s game.

Yankees defeat Astros 5-4

Contributed by Sphinx Drummond

In the rubber game of the three game series with the Yankees the Astros came out on the short end, losing the game 5 to 4. After falling behind by 4 runs early, the Astros tied the game with a four run fourth only to lose by one run in the end. Mariano Rivera closed it out for his 11th save of the year. Rivera is amazing, and pinstripes notwithstanding, impossible for me to hate.

Astros’ starter Eric Bedard gave up four runs in 4 innings, Paul Clemens, who took the mound for the fifth inning took the loss and falls to 1-1 on the year. The Astros have been defeated in 6 of the last 7 games. Jose Altuve had another multi-hit game and has his average sitting at .336.

Lyle Overbay showed some smart veteran base running in the 6th. With runners on the corners and one out, Suzuki hit a grounder to Altuve between first and second, with no play at second base, Altuve was forced to try to tag Overbay, who had stopped running to avoid the tag, this made Altuve have to throw to first, which eliminated the force at second, allowing Nunez, who was on third, to cross the plate before Overbay was tagged out, giving New York the lead.

The Astros record is now 8 and 20. That is too terrible for me to want to extrapolate and figure out what kind of pace they’re on for total losses at the end of the season.

The Astros, who look like they’re trying to revive the Traveling Horse Shit Show, will put that on hold as they return home for a four game series with the Tigers.