Astro-logy

So I got home from work just in time to watch nothing happen for the final two innings last night, resulting in the very first pennant for the Houston Astros. I wish I could say I was elated, but I felt more twilight zone uneasiness than any thing else.

I can still remember the very first professional sporting event I ever attended. 1976. The Pittsburg Pirates at the Houston Astrodome (which was still very much the "8th wonder of the world" at that time). Although the 'Stros were easily defeated, Enos Cabell went deep somewhere around the 5th inning, and I still have boyish amazement recalling the accompanying fireworks and excitement of the digital scoreboard flashing "HOME RUN" and a little sequence of a bull snorting, etc. Did I mention it was bat night? I still have that wonderful yellow bat.

I also have fond memories of listening to the Astros vs. Mets Championship series on earphones during the last 2 hours of school back in 1986. I would race into the living room and turn on the game as fast as I could get my body home. For a week, Mike Scott was something close to a god.

Yeah, the Houston Astros were my team growing up. Which is why, I suppose, the sight of Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell in those disappointingly conventional uniforms celebrating their entrance into the World Series seemed so un-real. The team has the same name and city, but it's NOT the same team I loved as a kid.

This is not the team with the jerseys that looked like the Atari game "Breakout." This is not Cesar Cedeno, Jose Cruz and Terry Puhl. This is not J.R. Richard on the mound. And it is certainly not the team that Nolan Ryan made his name striking out and no-hitting the National League for. This isn't even the team that Craig Biggio caught for.

And to add insult to injury there's the Houston FANS. It's very difficult to root for a team and root against their fans all at the same time. The franchise deserves this honor, but the collective urban sprawl known as "Greater Houston" does not. This gas-guzzling, ozone-ruining, toll road-advocating, strip mall-idolizing, Enron-incubating, humidity-sponging tract of asphalt is well, not my favorite place on earth.

So do I pull for the 'Stros versus the Sox? Sure. But only for the sake of the good old days and the hope that Houston fans will actually learn love the game.