Yeah, that's right. My beloved Astros are one game away from heading to the World Series. I fondly recall many games I attended during my elementary-school years. Ah, the cheering, the popcorn, the singing, the impersonating of the voice of the vendor who sold cold beer (much to my mother's dismay).
This was back when the 'Stros still played at the Astrodome. The Eighth Wonder of the World, they called it. Now the Astros play at Minute Maid Park, a new-fangled sort of stadium with a retractable roof (which the players don't want to retract right now). I've never been to this new venue. I only remember that when it was new, it was nick-named the Home Run Derby.
I haven't been to a baseball game in over a decade. (Oh crap, I think I just aged.) It's nothing against sports in general, or baseball. I just can't stand the seating in today's modern stadiums. Tiny little seatss, steep stairs, large crowds of strangers...no, not for me.
But I do love my home team. They put me in mind of childhood, school friends, cousins, and being encouraged to scream as loud as I liked. I wish you well, boys. Do me proud.
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