It was the worst of times. It was the best of times. I'll try not to be as cliched again going forward.
The Houston Astros, before they moved to the AL, before they tanked, before they came out of the tank with a loaded tema that would win the World Series, were a little lunch-pail and hard-hats team, destined to take on the evil Cardinals, the closest thing to the NL version of the Yankees. The Astros back then were everything, pitching, defense, craziness. It was a fascinating season, 2005 was, culminating in the second straight NLCS against the Cardinals. The Astros were the Wild Card team each time, surviving crazy odds each time to get there - a 56-60 start in 2004 followed by a 36-10 spring to the finish, and a 15-30 start in 2005 followed by a 74-43 end. But even if their credentials were iffy, they were the second best NL team. The matchup against St. Louis was destined.
In 2004, right ripped our hearts out. It was a fascinating series filled with ridiculous offense, few real pitching performances, Game 5 excepted, when Brandon Backe and Woody Williams engaged in a pitchers duel, finally ended by a Jeff Kent three run home run to take a 3-2 lead in the series. The Astros then blew Game 6, with Jim Edmonds hitting a titanic walk-off into the nth deck of that cookie cutter piece of shit Busch Stadium. In Game 7, the Astros took an early lead - Craig Biggio hit a leadoff home run, before the Cardinals made their rally on Roger Clemens, ending with a Scott Rolen home run. That Cardinals team, regardless of the Red Sox sweeping the floor with them in the World Series, were scary; 105 wins scary; the most wins of any team since the 2001 Mariners (still until today) scary.
In 2005, they were 101 wins scary, but the Astros were Clemens with a 1.83 ERA, Pettitte with a 2.39 ERA, and Oswalt with a 2.83 ERA scary. It was a great battle, and it culminated in two games that endeared me to the Astros, and to the whims of beautiful baseball for life.
Both games were watched from my basement, staying up dangerously close to what had become a loosely enforced 'bed-time'. The TV in my basement was tiny, was not HD, had no DVR. I had to sit through a million different Chevy commercials. I had to sit through inning after inning needing Joe Buck and Tim McCarver to inform me on what is going on because it was too hard to see for myself. My basement is a hollow place. unfinished with exposed cement and wood. But for so many nights it was my place, my home inside my home, where I watched so many sporting moments. Few connected or remained with me like the end of the Astros pennant winning run.
Prior to Game 5, the Astros lost Game 1 with Clemens, before Oswalt pitched a gem in Busch stadium. They won Game 3, and then won Game 4 behind an audacious double-play to end the game with runners on first and third. Literally, when the ball was hit as a slow grounder to short-stop Adam Everett, Joe Buck said 'they're not going to be able to turn two', right before they did turn two. That all led to Game 5.
The Astros Game 5 was their chance to clinch in Houston, in front of a truly raucous Minute Maid Park. It has become cliche, especially after the shenanigans pulled by the Seahawks, extolling the loudness of a stadium has become passe, but truly Minute Maid Park was ridiculous in those days. It was at its most ridiculous when Lance Berkman hit a Crawford Boxes special to take a 4-2 lead in the 7th inning. It was truly a line drive the other way, a ridiculous home run, one that would be well placed in the World Series of Home Runs twelve years later.
From that point, we counted down the outs, and more importantly, counted down the batters before Albert Pujols would have to bat again.
I don't think I've ever feared an opposing player more than Pujols. The way he stood in the box, bat metronomically going up and down in perfect motion. It seemed like there was no way to get him out, no way to actually win against him. No Astros fan wanted any part of him, and entering the 9th inning, two men had to reach base for him to bat, the exact amount of people needed on base to have him hit a home run so loud, so well struck, so majestic, it shut up the most raucous crowd ever.
Two days later, I knew it was over, able to relax my hands and relieve my fingernails, when in the first inning, Roy Oswalt made Albert Pujols fall down swinging at a 'challenge-me' fastball up and in. The first inning was over. The Cardinals were over. Busch Stadium was no more. I've never felt more confident when my personal favorite player managed to make the robot of death in Pujols look amateurish.
The real nostalgia here is that 46 hout period in between Pujols home run to silence a city, and his strikeout to wake it back up. Nervousness in sports is natural, but it wasn't really present in my life until those two days. I had invested a lot in the Astros 2005 season. Obviously, the scars of 2004, my first year really following them day-to-day, was a fresh wound, made deeper by Carlos Beltran holding the Astros hostage before snaking his way to the Mets. Making it worse was the fact Lance Berkman tore his ACL in November, 2004, and only made it back in May. But that team battled.
It was Morgan Ensberg making a career out of nothing. It was the ridiculous season by Clemens, that 1.83 ERA still seeming unreal. It was Pettitte's equally great year. It was Willy Taveras, Beltran's 'replacement' become a speed demon. 15-30 start aside, that was a fascinating, fun team. And nothing meant more to me than seeing them make a World Series.
Game 6 was a whirlwind, I remember little apart from the Pujols strikeout, and Roy Oswalt dealing. My only other real memory was after one inning, after Oswalt shut down the Cardinals again, FOX cut to commercial playing Tom Petty's 'Won't Back Down'. It was perfect - not that I knew Tom Petty at the time; pretty sure I went straight to Kazaa or LimeWire or whatever was the Napster-du-jour in 2005 and downloaded it. That song was a perfect choice. This was the Astros time.
I was so nervous before that game, but so calm during, and so joyous after. Not only did they win, Roy Oswalt, that small, fiery, Mississippi-boy, was named NLCS MVP, an award that also gifted him a giant tractor from Astros owner Drayton McLane. Bagwell and Biggio finally made a World Series. The State of Texas finally made a World Series. It was perfect, even if at so many times it felt so far away.
