Tomorrow’s Here
I moved to Houston in 1962. A traveling boy in a Navy family, finally landed. It was great. The best thing about Houston in my opinion was the Colt .45s. A major league baseball team. I went to games mostly to see the stars I’d read about or seen on TV. Willie Mays. Stan Musial. Roberto Clemente. It’s a long list. My team was interesting for other reasons. Turk Farrell lost 20 games in a single season. Ken Johnson lost a no-hitter to Cincinnati.
Over the years they broke my heart more often than not. They traded Joe Morgan. Pitcher J.R. Richard had a stroke. Shortstop Dickie Thon got beaned and ended a promising career. Don Wilson, pitched two no hitters and died an accidental death. They lost at home to the Phillies in the 1980 NLCS. They lost at home to the NY Mets in the 1986 NLCS. The Mets scored three in the ninth to tie the winning game and won it in 16 innings. They got swept by the White Sox in their first World Series. They won the World Series in 2017 and got embroiled in a sign stealing scandal. Damn.
But last night they won it all without question and they did it in splendid fashion and they did it at home and I got to watch it with friends and afterwards I talked to my oldest son who was celebrating in Houston with his friends, and we were all happy. There was a monster home run with an insurance run in the final game. There were game-saving catches in the penultimate game. There was wonderful, timely pitching throughout. This is a golden age of Astros/Colt .45 baseball and I’m happy I’ve lived to see it, a nice bright spot in 60 years of memories and isn’t that just like baseball? You win some and you lose some and there’s always hope right until the last out and then there’s always tomorrow. And now for me tomorrow is finally here.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale