Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Calling all psychiatrists


I must have masochistic tendencies. I keep spending money on the dang Astros when they've done nothing to earn my trust and support.

Well, okay, sweeping the Pirates was nice (but of course, it was the Pirates). And obviously it kept my little fantasy universe alive for a few days longer.

But overall, attending and/or watching games is just painful right now. As redbirdbrain has noted, why am I continuing in an activity that stresses and depresses me? IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE FUN, for crying out loud.

And yet, not only do I continue to watch, I continue to throw money at them. I just exercised my post-season option, even though I've thought for some time now that the Astros wouldn't advance this year. So now I'm guaranteed 2 seats (good ones, at that) to every home postseason game, including all three potential World Series games.

Talk about a fantasy universe.

But hey, while the psychiatrists are around, maybe they can help some of the team members. Like Morgan Ensberg, for one. Dude was my favorite player last year, now I just think he's mental. (And yes, I can be a little fickle. But seriously? What is up with him? He's turned more OCD than Nomar Garciaparra, and he just looks wild-eyed at the plate, like he doesn't have clue one. Not to mention lying about being hurt earlier this season [and yeah, he said he knew others who "played through pain," but it's easy to put an honorable spin on something after the fact]. And the show-boating that got him injured in the first place is annoying, although certainly to be fair, he was only hitting .216 in May before the injury occurred in June.)

And what about Lidge? I do NOT think Pujols got to him, he had his struggles last year before the playoffs had started. But he keeps singing the same song-and-dance about how he doesn't understand how he's getting hit. I don't understand it either--how can he be dominant one outing and ridiculously easy to hit the next? But somebody needs to figure it out, and if it takes a shrink, so be it. He's already lost the closer's job, and I predict he'll be traded in the off-season.

I could go on and on, with Jason Lane, poor P-Dub (good luck, sir), Orlando Palmeiro, and everybody else who is underperforming this year. But what's the point?

You know, earlier this year I was good with the Astros not making the playoffs. Of course, processes such as grief are never fully linear, explaining my current recrudescence of depression and anger. Then again, maybe I should blame my recurring flicker of hope on the NL in general. Since all the teams have sucked at some point this year (only the Mets are above .550, and they've lost their last two--not that they've really sucked this year, damn them), it has kept the Astros in the hunt--and coasting in their mediocrity--for far longer than might otherwise have been possible.

Ah well, forget the shrink. Just get me some Prozac.


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