Curse Broken

Two months ago, if someone asked me if I'd ever see my Astros win a playoff series in my lifetime I probably would've said not likely. Tonight, anything's possible... even a World Series victory vs. Boston or New York.

You see, as far as I can remember I've been a crazied Houston fan. I recall watching the 1980 NLCS vs. the Phillies with my Dad and my Grandfather. I remember crying like a little bitch when Phi Slamma Jamma lost the NCAA championship. And of course, I could never forget that heartbreaking meltdown by the Oilers in the playoffs vs. the Buffalo Bills while I was in college.

I've witnessed too many miraculous comebacks engineered by the likes of dudes like John Elway, Danny Ainge, Joe Montana, Karl Malone, etc. I've thrown pizza at TV's. I've threatened Cowboy fans with violence. I've always acted pretty fucking crazy when it came to my teams.

Not too many people outside of Houston could ever comprehend the passion, the anger, the we hold inside. We were born with a fucking monkey on our backs. We always played second fiddle to "America's team": Staubach, Emmitt Smith, their cheerleaders who were always hotter than ours. Members of the New York media insulted our beloved city by calling it "hell on earth" during Clutch City '94. And what about 43 years of no Astro playoff series wins... until now.

Yeah I know the Rockets won two titles back in the mid-nineties. I celebrated and talked so much smack back then too. Those championships were the most memorable fan experiences in my life. Afterwards, I quit being so angry. I learned that we werent really cursed. I didn't let future losses bother me as much. We were no longer cursed I believed.

Ok, now that I realize that this little essay lacks a point and I'm just rambling I better quit. I guess just I'm emotional to see the Astros finally win a playoff series. It feels amazing. I haven't been this happy about H-Town sports for 10 years...

Beat St. Louis.