Astros Joy, White Sox Joy; no Series losers

Hoorah for the Astros! After luring all their fans out of their seats in their Houston stadium or to the edge of their couches at home on Monday night, the team's apparent victory just went "Poof!" Just like that, after one pitch and one three-run homer by a big, strapping St. Louis hitter, all went silent. Fans sat down in the stadium while those on the couch rolled over and quietly groaned. They were that close to making it to the World Series for the first time ever in their 45-year history.

With that stunning last-minute defeat, many thoughts turned toward the Cubs in their big game two years ago when they were finally on their roll toward baseball immortality. Then, suddenly came the controversial hit where the fan touched the ball and "Poof," the momentum fizzled. The Cubs lost. The supposed jinx continued. This will probably happen again, we thought. Houston will self-destruct and lose in St. Louis. Bill will have to wait one more time for his Astros to go to the Series. Nonetheless, we watched last night's game.

Somehow, from the beginning when Houston's pitcher stepped onto the mound, all thoughts of the Astros' bubble being completely burst, quickly dissipated. This young, determined pitcher had come to St. Louis to win a game. Houston hitters came to win a game. They did so, methodically, without fanfare, with disciplined, hard work and highly controlled offensive and defensive baseball. The Houston Astros ARE going to the World Series, and my hubby is pretty happy.

He's followed the Astros since they were the Colt 45's. He attended games in the Astrodome during the mid-'60s when the team became known as the Astros because of Houston's space program. He remembers the glass opening in the roof of the Eighth Wonder of the World which caused problems when the sun came through, often blocking the players' view of action on the field. They painted over the roof. The grass died. Astro turf was born. Bill was a teenager when all that happened.

When Bill was married and the father of two little kiddies, he returned to the Astrodome on a June day in 1980. That was my introduction to Major League baseball in person. This morning, we were trying to remember who the Astros played that day and finally agreed it was the Cardinals. I don't remember too much about the game because the only tickets available were in the "nosebleed" section.

My true fear of high places became quickly apparent that Saturday as we sat almost near the ceiling and struggled to identify those tiny little players running around on that field seemingly miles away. I spent most of the game walking around outside the seating area, watching people and trying to find some souvenirs I could afford.

Several years later, when the kids had grown and Pittsburgh's "We are FAMILEE" World Series winners came to town to play the Astros, we were once again in Houston and had ground-level seats just a few rows from the field. I have pictures of the great Willie Stargill as he spent part of his pre-game visiting with fans just in front of us. Thanks to our prime location, this time I spent more time watching baseball rather than people that day.

Because of our Houston Astros experiences, we're all thrilled to see them in the Series. I'm just as ecstatic about the White Sox. When one has the Irish Chicago genes like mine, with both parents born in the Windy City, it's totally natural to pull for the White Sox or the Cubs.

I can't even begin to imagine the elation my two classmates Gil Bohan and Mike Parkins must be feeling as the days wind down toward this year's Series. In June, we spotted Mike in Sea-Tac on his way to Chicago for a Father's Day White Sox game, and Gil's main claim to fame among us 1965 classmates was his undying devotion to his Sox.

There'll be no losers for us in this World Series. We'll simply sit back and enjoy the games. I'm sure Bill will be happy if his Astros win, but I think we both agree that this match-up and the legendary lore that goes along with it exemplifies all that's good about the sport of baseball.