Monday, September 04, 2006


Just, gray.

That pretty much sums up a lot here in Texas right now. The skies outside. The Astros' playoff hopes. My mood.

Attended all three games of the Mets' series this weekend. The Astros played fairly well, despite a few defensive errors and the usual sporadic offense. And although we threw our fourth and fifth starters at them, the Mets didn't run away with either of the first two games (a relief for certain). So, good baseball and good company at all three events, and a sweet win on Sunday with Roy O on the mound.

I've decided Willy Taveras is Little Puma (a reference, of course, to Berkman's nickname). I had great fun, after a couple of beers (malted courage, don't you know), yelling to Willy T, "¡Está puma pequeño! ¡Te quiero! ¡Tirá la aquí!" " It certainly made those around me, who understood Spanish, snicker. But what exactly they were laughing at, I'm not sure. . . .

Other parts of the weekend were not so amusing. The fans around me, when Beltran got hurt Saturday night, showed no class whatsoever. One guy yelled, "Hey! It's nothing $118 million won't fix!" (Okay, that one made me chuckle a little.) But other fans kept yelling stuff like, "Get up you big crybaby! You're holding up the game!" And the constant booing was really getting old by the end of the weekend. I'm sure Beltran is glad he left.

I can understand, with that sort of heckling, why players never look into the stands. And I was reminded, after reading this story about Morgan Ensberg, why he isn't very friendly (he and several other players, minor leaguers at the time, were held at gunpoint by two assailants in Florida, and would probably have been killed if not for their own quick thinking and police intervention). But still sometimes I wonder, would it hurt these guys so much to acknowledge the fans a little? Especially, you know, in non-game situations? My friend Olga took her 6-year-old daughter to get Chris Burke's autograph at a Shadow Creek Ranch function. She said he was just rude, and seemed completely annoyed to even be there. (This didn't surprise me, as he comes across as very arrogant--in my opinion--in interviews.) It seems the fans are invisible at best and an irritation otherwise. It makes me question my fandom, to tell the truth.

To top it off, my car was burglarized Saturday night. The thief smashed the right side rear window and took the Aveda foot lotion I had just bought, as well as a new flat iron that my hair stylist talked me into buying. Finally, he/she rifled through my work backpack and stole my checkbook and my Social Security card. Needless to say, I spent a great deal of time Sunday morning trying to alert all the necessary agencies. Now I just have to wait to see if some f***er with straight hair and soft feet tries to steal my identity. Nice. (Advisory: this happened at the Magnolia Hotel. I was parked in the garage behind the hotel, which is where they recommend patrons to park. I didn't use the valet, but even if I had, the hotel stated that they wouldn't have been responsible. That's fine, I understand that. But when I apprised the hotel of the incident, the clerk at the front desk was so imperious that she might as well have said, "Oh. Well, f*** you." I will not be going back there.)

I think I'm ready for the season to be over.


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