I'm Eight Again. And Fourteen.
I just watched the Astros get one strike from going to their first ever World Series before a two-out single from David Eckstein, followed by a walk from Jim Edmonds, followed by a monstrous home run by Albert Pujols doomed my former team-of-choice.
I'm shockingly disappointed. I'm back in 1980, heartbroken with a team beaten by the Phillies in all those damned extra inning games. It's 1986 and the Mets (my current team-of-choice) have stolen the National League Championship Series from my boys in six games. Mike Scott just couldn't pitch every game.
Here in 2005 the Astros have two more games in which to beat the Cardinals. But my 1980 and 1986 selves have no hope for the former inhabitants of the Astrodome, a.k.a. the 8th Wonder of the World.
Labels: baseball
posted by Dan G @ 12:21 AM
2 Comments
2 Comments:
I'm so sorry, Dan. It's gonna be hard to bounce back from that one. Call it the ghost of Jesse Orosco, I guess. The cruel side of me did kind of enjoy hearing how hushed all those red-red-state yahoos at Enron field became when Pujols' homer finally landed in the next County. As Pujols stepped to the plate, I turned to my cat and asked, "why are they pitching to him, sweetie?" She was just as confused as me. Sure, you're not supposed to intentionally walk the winning run, but when you're one out away from going to the World Series, baseball orthodoxy goes out the window, no? Pujols is considered by many to be the most dangerous hitter in baseball. I'd have taken my chances with Sanders...
Ah, but you gotta love that little Davey Eckstein. Run, Davey! Run!
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