HOLY CRAP!!! The Astros are in the freakin' World Series

[VikingJuice]

I can't believe it!  In my whole life, most spent here in Texas, I never thought I see it happen.  EVER.  NEVER EVER!!  Ho-lee SHIT!!!

[VikingJuice]

When that last fly ball went up in the air tonight, I instinctively raised my hands in the air and mouthed out to the empty air of my apartment, "there it is!"  Seconds later they cut to the players on the field jumping for joy like kids winning a lifetime pass to a candy store.

I felt this rush of emotion, something that had apparently been buried for years.  I actually teared up and sobbed.  I'm actually tearing up right now as I type this.  "Holy Cow" Harry Carrey would yell.  I just can't believe it.

As I tried to get a grip on my emotions, I suddenly recalled why I'd distanced myself from the Astros for so many years.  I remembered the pain of watching them as a kid, listening to them on the radio, going to countless games, even sitting through a Nolan Ryan masterpiece in Game 2 of the 1986 NLCS as the Astros fell later to the suck ass New York Mets.  I've hated the Mets to this very day.  I remember so many painful Astros moments over my life here in Houston.  So so so many.  "On the edge of your seat and we still get beat" was the lyric in a song once here talking about Houston sports.

See, in Houston, sports is big.  Not big like big oil, not big like life and death, despite some people's unhealthy obsession with all things sports(I can't criticize too heavily as I'm a rabid football fan and complete NFL junkie-but I digress).  Sports is big like BBQ is big.  They're big like cowboy hats were big in the Urban Cowboy days of the late 1970's and early 1980's.  Sports are big like sandwhiches in different shops that have small, medium, and Texas sized.  Like Chicken fried steak has regular, which is big enough for most mid sized serengeti predators, but is usually served here in Texas the size of the Gulf of Mexico complete with all the sides and about a gallon's worth of gravy!

So having grown up in Texas, I became immersed in the culture of sports.  I was 7 years old and had never seen a baseball game in my life, and my dad signed me up with my next door neighbor to play for his team.  We were the Warriors.  They even made a movie about us in Hollywood, but apparently it was about gangs and not about my team.  Anyway.  I remember my first day of practice we were all waiting for coach to show up with the rest of our equipment and all the kids were throwing balls straight up in the air and catching them.  I thought I could do the same.  I threw my first ball straight up, waited, waited, and caught it-right in my right eye!  Black eye, first day of practice ever!  I remember that Coach Wilson showed up right after and was chuckling at me because I'd already injured myself, something my mother worried about and actually argued with my dad about when he signed me up.  So her fear was realized in approximately the first 120 seconds of my sports career.

So I became a player.  We were terrible.  I was terrible.  I couldn't hit anything my entire first season till the last game.  I got on base about a million times though.  I'd walk, get hit, and occasionally hit the ball into the infield only to make it to first because there was an error of some sort.  I remember that as a team, we trekked up to the Astrodome to see the local heros.  Back then, the only name I knew was Jose Cruz.  That's because evey time he as at bat, the stadium would yell "CRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUZZZZZZZZ."  It always sounded like they were booing him and it confused me the first time I'd heard it.  We watched dozens of games over the years. 

As I grew older, my coach died in a car accident and we played an impromptu game in his backyard that day of the funeral.  I remember I kept all that emotion at a distance for so long and then it caught up with me one night as I bawled like a baby.  I miss Coach Wilson to this very day.  I use some of the same lessons he taught me in my classroom from time to time.  He was very country, very unpolished, ate peanuts in his Coca-Cola(I never understood it), but he was such a good caring man.  And he made such a HUGE difference in my life.

I remember we were camping in Arizona in 1980 doing the whole "out west" adventure with my parents.  We camped everywhere from the Grand Canyon to Four Corners to everywhere in between.  As we drove around, we listened to the Astros on the radio because that was the only way to keep up with them.  We were camping in our 6 man tent, in the middle of a lightning and rain storm listening to the signal that faded in and out.  I remember the Astros losing to the evil Phillies late that night sending me off to bed with tears in my eyes.

I remember in high school sprinting out the front door my freshman year, at Saint Thomas, to the bus stop because one of my friends brought a radio to listen to.  The Astros were playing the Mets at 3:00 and we got out at 3:15.  It was the playoffs and that was a LONG 15 minutes!  I remember that my grandmother's neighbor was a Mets fan and we went back and forth talking trash about how the other team was going to lose and lose bad!  I remember seeing a game earlier that summer as the Astros trailed 4-0 in the bottom of the 9th and came back to win 5-4 with 2 outs.  I was so excited.  I called him up several times later to rub it in his face.  But I was heartbroken months later as the Astros lost that 2-1 game with Nolan Ryan as I sat in the upper deck.  And even more so as they lost that debacle in the late innings that day after school to those sorry ass Mets.

I remember feeling such pain in all those losses.  I think for me, they reminded me of Coach Wilson and his passing.  They brought back the pain of his loss every time they fell short.  For me, sports became about great feelings and sometimes awful feelings.  But in my life, and in my meager sports career through grade school and for fun and fitness beyond, sports was a usuall a good thing.  It was something that allowed me to vent all my frustrations of life.  It turned out, I was actually a pretty good athlete.  Still am in fact.  Despite my weight and lethargic lifestyle of too much couch potatoing, I can still bring it on the field, on the court, in the pool and in any other area of sport-save soccer.  I just was terrible at that one.

But Coach Wilson was the first one to show me that thrill of sports through baseball.  I've talked down about baseball for so many years.  I think I've been so hurt by the Astros and their repeated failures that it's been easier to slam them then to care.  I even started cheering for the Twins and the Braves growing up because at least they could win and I liked their players.  I derided the sport as silly, boring, and slow.  I've called the Astros countless different names, the Last-stros, the Suck-stros, and even the Disas-stros.  But tonight, I think some of that pain has been replaced with shock, and even a little child like pride.  My team made it.  One time, and maybe the only time(I'm still a pesimist and I figure we'll probably lose), but for now, I'm revelling in the moment.

Coach Wilson, here's to you, your beloved Astros finally made it.  Congratulations!  And thanks for introducing me to sports, you've probably done more to shape my life than anyone else I've ever known outside of my family.  I miss you.  I hope you enjoy this year's Series.

[sapphirehart]

Can someone give me the cliff notes for that post?

[Jessie]

Can someone give me the cliff notes for that post?

The Astros won!  Yay!

[VikingJuice]

Can someone give me the cliff notes for that post?

Cliff Notes are for cheaters and lazy people.  Since I'm both, it worked out well in HS.

[Alice]

Don't get too excited there VJ.  It's not like the Astros have a shot against the White Sox. 

[VikingJuice]

Don't get too excited there VJ.  It's not like the Astros have a shot against the White Sox. 

You're such a skimmer!

One time, and maybe the only time(I'm still a pesimist and I figure we'll probably lose), but for now, I'm revelling in the moment.

[Alice]

Don't get too excited there VJ.  It's not like the Astros have a shot against the White Sox. 

You're such a skimmer!

One time, and maybe the only time(I'm still a pesimist and I figure we'll probably lose), but for now, I'm revelling in the moment.

I love ya and all VJ, but I did skim that post.  It's only quarter to nine here... I just woke up 45 minutes ago (alarm issues)... I'm not reading that whole post this morning.  Maybe later today, but not this morning.  Sorry.