The New Curse

So after the Astros absolutely fell apart in the 9th inning last night, I had a million ideas on things I could say about the game. And predictions for the final two games. But I was exhausted and had to get up at the crack of dawn for a lovely 13 hour work day, so I decided to put it off a day.

Now I'm ready to type this, and everything I've thought about has already been written by hundreds of sportswriters across America.

Damn them and they're paying jobs. It's not my fault they get to sit around the house all day in their boxers & put up unoriginal thoughts before I do. I have to make a living, this thing is only secondary. So many of my original ideas seem like ripoffs by them time they're posted (not the Shark Championship Standings though, I ripped nothing off on that one, and have yet to be ripped off myself).

That doesn't change the fact that what I'm about to say is 100% shark. The other writers stole the ideas from me. Kind of like that car that's driving in front of you on the ride home, and 6 turns later they're still in front of you. This is when you realize they're following you, except they're in front of you. Damn them, how'd they pull that off?

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, the Astros season ended last night. Sure, teams have been absolutely demoralized before, and somehow come back a night or two later and overcome that. But not often. And teams that do that are special. The Astros haven't shown anything all season that resembles special. Effecient, hell yea. Special? No.

So now, after the most heartbreaking sports loss in at least a year, arguably many years, the Astros have sit around on their asses all day just thinking about what could have been. One strike from the World Series. One strike from four days off preparing for the Chicago White Sox. One strike from Jeff Bagwell & Craig Biggio finally getting there. One strike from the city finally getting there. Hell, one strike from Texas finally getting there, since the state hasn't gotten there yet.

But then a single passed the third baseman. Then a walk. And then the most definite homerun in major league history. I think 90% of the country knew that ball was gone as Pujols started swinging, before he even made contact, that's how powerful that blast was.

And now Houston is silent. They're sitting. The memories are stirring. 1980. 1986. 2004. 2005?

Right now is about the time they start to ask themselves if they can overcome something like this. And once you start asking that question, you might as well break the socks off the 3 woods, because you're finished.

The Cardinals, on the other hand, know how to win. They've been here before. Just last year they were down 3-2 going back to Busch Stadium, and after an epic game 6 win, a game 7 victory over Roger Clemens was a cakewalk.

Last year, the Astros were down after that game 6 loss, but they weren't out. This year they're not only down AND out, but they're dead. You could see it on the players faces when Pujols hit that homerun. Andy Pettite's "Oh My God" says it all.

So, starting tomorrow, the Astros send arguably the greatest young pitcher to the mound, followed by arguably the greatest pitcher of alltime in game 7, "if necessary," and statistically that alone should give them an advantage.

But it won't matter. One of two things will happen. One, the Astros will play it close tomorrow, perhaps even leading as deep into the game as the 5th or 6th innings, before one or two shaky plays destroy their psyche, and they lose the game and forget to show up for game 7. Or two, they're already forgotten there's another game to be played. In this case, tomorrow could get very out of hand, 8, 9, 10 runs for the Cardinals, before the Astros remember to play ball. Then they'll make a game out of game 7 before falling behind late in the game once again, and being unable to come back.

Either way, the result is the same. The St Louis Cardinals are back-to-back National League Champions, and the Houston Astros are asking themselves if something happened on a fall October day in 2004, when they lost a 12 inning game 6 in which they could have clinched the playoffs, while across the country the cursed Red Sox did the improbable and sent their series vs the Yanks to game 7. Was a curse passed?

Many people, mostly insane Red Sox fans (another subject for another day), think they have successfully passed the curse of the bambino onto the Yankees. But what if the curse of the lovable losers was passed from the Red Sox to the Astros?

Unlikely, I think, since curses are a ridiculous suggestion in the first place. But nevertheless, there's something depressing about watching this Astros ballclub fall apart again & again.