By ‘strosrays 

SMELLS LIKE TEAM SPIRIT
Here we are now, entertain us

Mariners (35-28) at Astros (27-39)
Minute Maid Park, 501 Crawford St., Houston, TX  77002
a/k/a “The Heart-Shaped  Man In A  Juice Box” 

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▪Friday, June 15 (7:05 p.m. CDT) – FSN

▪Saturday, June 16 (6:05 p.m. CDT) – KNWS (Kick-ass Nine Watt Signal)

▪Sunday, June 17 (1:05 p.m. CDT) – FSN

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Fell On Black Days

Whatsoever we’ve feared has come to life.  The Astros, who admittedly had some pretty obvious holes coming into the 2007 season, have verified about ten times over by now that they are, at best, presently a mediocre team.  Any sliver of hopeful news, or brief interlude of good play, is almost immediately followed by some depressing reminder that this team ain’t going anywhere anytime soon.  Two steps forward, three steps back.

Well, it is depressing if one thought they were going anywhere in the first place.  And we won’t even get into the agonizing, vein-popping daily hell the fans who know better than Tim Purpura and Phil Garner and everybody else combined are going through.  The season could’ve been saved if those idiots had only listened!  Instead, their little conspiracy of mediocrity has prevailed once again.  Goddammit!  Line up the bastards, all we want is the truth.  It is enough to make one want to call up Rich Lord, or Charlie Palillo.  How would we know that this could be our fate?

On the other hand, the world weary, cynical Astros fan who expects nothing good to ever happen, in a fear-driven attempt to protect himself from any disappointment at all (God bless, what a sensitive mess), is no better than the hot-headed morons who think they know the answers, if only someone would fucking listen.

One of the hardest life lessons being an Astros fan has taught me is that a good deal of the time, things don’t go my way at all, and there is not a fucking thing I can do about it. There is no recourse, no one I can call and complain to, no one’s ass I can go kick to make it all better.  Sometimes, even, you’ll find me sitting by myself, no excuses that I know.  I just have to take it, all the better if I can do so with a little grace, and then move on.  It takes some time to learn this, and how to do it; to balance precariously between being an angry know-it-all, and a baseball nihilist.  Of course, like a surprising number of things one can learn from playing and/or being a fan of baseball, this almost existential patience has direct applications to everyday life as well.  I used to marvel at my parents’ ability to wait seemingly forever for me to come around, while I was careening around all wild-ass and directionless from about age 14 to 25 or so.  But I finally did come around (sort of), and all the while they exhibited this preternatural calm and patience with me, like they knew it would come eventually, all along.  The thing is, when I became aware enough to realize what they had so amazingly done, basically having shepherded me (and three equally unrestrained siblings) through the minefield of adloescence and young adulthood, in the anything goes 1970’s, no less, and with a lot of extra crap and obstacles thrown in, all the while maintaining a measure of dignity and not going out of their fucking minds; well, I was awestruck by it.  It reminded me of watching a concert pianist, or someone who was really good at woodworking or drawing or some other art that was entirely beyond my grasp.  I wasn’t so much impressed by all the hard work and effort that went into mastering the skill, because I couldn’t even imagine myself being able to do it at all.  I knew I would never have that kind of patience and wisdom and confidence in the future, and would be more likely go completely stark raving batshit as a parent, myself.

What’s funny is, that sort of worldy-wise restraint began to come to me, anyway, almost despite myself.  Having a mouthy fourteen-year-old will test anyone, and I have always been one to swing first and worry about the consequences later, figuratively and literally.  So I am a little amazed those times when I am provoked and instead of going off, I hold back and do something infinitely more wise.  Where the hell did that come from?  I sure did not see it coming.

This is the time for acting like adults, Astros fans.  A time for being clear-eyed, and understanding exactly what it is we are looking at here.  A time for taking the long view.  We are watching a team in a transitional phase that is trying to compete at the same time, bless them.  But that is really, really hard to do.  There will likely be many more bumps in the road, this season and beyond, before they get back to where we want them, to where we hope they should be.  Meantime, we should try and remember what a cool thing it is to be able to watch this team, any team, go out ond play on the green grass every day and night.  And that sometimes, the lessons of baseball and the lessons of life do converge.  All good things.  In their time.Read More