Well, bitches, the most frustrating time of the year for me is back. Football is so close I can taste it in the air, but not quite. Basketball sucks, so that's out. Golf on TV puts me to sleep. So all that leaves is baseball.
I love baseball. I learned at an early age to keep score the old fashioned way, with a pencil and a scorebook, and I was hooked. It's a thinking man's game, requiring an appreciation of the nuance behind the strategy. It's team versus team, but also man versus man every time a new player steps into the batter's box to face the man on the mound.
One would think that I would be giddy as a school girl on Opening Day. And not so long ago, you would have been right. A fresh start, hopes for the post season, everybody has a chance. Maybe this is our year, the hell with the curse, that young phenom from the minors is gonna be a star...
And then I wake up and remember that I am an Astros fan.
And that we have a new owner of shady character, with no real baseball experience, one who cannot be any cheaper than Drayton McClain in terms of spending money to rebuild the team, but who also seems to be of uncertain financial means.
And that Carlos Lee is still on the team, still drawing his over priced and undeserved paycheck.
And that our farm system is so lackluster, and sucks so much ass, that we may never have a pipeline again.
And that the word is that at least two thirds of the infield positions and at least one outfield position are going to be platooned, because we do not have a a single player in any of those positions who has shown himself to be a playmaker, a complete package, who even has the fundamental baseball skills necessary top play an entire game at one position (see comment about about suckass farm system).
And that it doesn't really matter if they platoon anyway, because when I look at the Opening Day roster, I recognize maybe, MAYBE, three names.
Yet for at least a moment today, I will pause and offer up a silent prayer that things are not as bad as they seem, that all the worry will be for naught, that these young, inexperienced players will take their shot at the Big Show seriously and go out and try to prove all the naysayers wrong. That the next A-Rod or Jeter or Hamilton is out there waiting make a difference.
And then I remember again that I am an Astros fan.
Fuck me.
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