Thursday, November 2, 2017


I have been a dodgers fan since they moved from Brooklyn, New York in the 1950s. I saw them play when they were temporarily using the Coliseum in Los Angeles with the high screen to the left to the diamond. I saw Don Drysdale pitch, and Ron Marashal of San Francisco throw his bat and get put out of the game. I was listening when Marashal hit Roseborro over the head with a bat. My hero was long tall Frank Howard who grabbed many a potential home run by simply launching straight up and catching the ball somewhere next to the Jupiter.

I am not obsessed with any sport, and I am allergic to football. It makes me break out all over in the creep crawlies when I realize how little those bums have to do to make ten million dollars.

Today I have finally made my last cultural shift to be a pure Texan. I am now an Astros fan. It simply seems like the right thing to do, seeing that I live in Texas now.

5 to 1..... It is very Texan to go all the way to seven games before ending the round up and corralling the last game into their remuda. The Dodger calves have finally been banded by a Texas team.

And, you cannot help loving Houston. Those people are survivors. They are the best Baptists in the world. They regularly get rebaptized by various hurricanes from Africa and drenchings from El Nińo, and they keep coming back. We live in the Texas Hill Country where we actually look forward to hurricanes because they water our gardens.

Today, the Astros are Going Back to Houston.