Astros 3
steM 1
contributed by NeilT
You may not remember me, but I have a sausage stand on Miller Way, right outside the stadium. I have this customer, Bud. He’s tall and cadaverous, with joints and bones hung together all loose and jutting. He jerks and writhes when he talks, and hunches over at the shoulders like he’s bobbing and bowing. When he orders sausage he rubs his long bony hands like he’s washing them under a faucet.
Usually Bud drops by to buy sausage to go to slip to his friend Houston, but sometimes, especially when the Astros used to be in town, Bud would watch the game from this little portable tv I keep at the stand. Last fall Bud paid me $5,000 to watch the Astros lose to the Yankees while I served him sausage. I didn’t want to, I wanted to watch the Brew Crew, but $5000 paid for a lot of ice fishing schnapps. I haven’t seen him much this year, what with the Astros being in the American League. He does drop by to pick up sausage for his friend Houston when the Astros are on a West Coast swing.
Frankly, I’m just as glad he doesn’t hang out at the stand so often. He buys lots of sausage, but he creeps me out, y’know? I suspect Bud is always sneaking a bite of the old salami. I don’t deal in the hard stuff.
The season end here on Miller Way comes as early as winter, but this year at least it wasn’t so bad. The Brew Crew had a real chance of the post-season. They broke .500 and came out third in the Central behind good Pirates and Cardinals teams. You remember the Central? This year it was one of the better divisions in baseball, if you leave out the Cubs. And the Reds.
But tonight Bud showed up squirming like a squid in heat, and asked me if I’d turn on the Mets/Astros game. Now mind, I’m tempted. Last season that $5000 was some serious schnapps. But to hell with it, I told him no, not this time. The Brewers were my team and I wanted to watch the Brewers beat the Cubs. Like all right thinking people I hate the Cubs, and the chance of a Cub loss is worth some tv time.
But Bud leans over the counter and bobs his head towards me. “Master David,” David is my name, “Do you own this fine piece of property here on Miller Way?” I don’t know what Bud is thinking. This is prime Milwaukee real estate, and I run a sausage stand. Do I own the property? “What the heck you talking about Bud? I lease this strip from the owners.”
Bud rubs his hands together. “And Master David, do you have a prohibition against assignments by the lessor in the lease?” What the heck is Bud getting at? I know Kielbasa, not prohibitions against assignments. “Heck if I know Bud.”
“Master David, I am only an humble man, but I do know. As you may have heard, your lessor ran into some hard times and needed to monetize some assets,” Bud paused and gave a little gasp and a little wriggle, “and now I, a very humble man, own your lease. It terminates at the end of this season. I have the extension rights, and would like to watch the Mets/Astros now. Next season I’ll be looking for a new opportunity—as you may know my current position is ending—and this sausage stand might be the very thing. You would hate to lose your lease over such a small thing, I think.”
I realize that I hate this guy. I hate this guy and he owns me. I turn on Mets/Astros and at his request serve up Bud’s usual liver with some onions and mustard. I charge him double. He picked up that sausage and just squeezed, until there were bits of liver all over his hands and his shirt, and then he asked for a mettwurst. He’s smiling and squirming and sucking happy on the sausage until the Astros go up 3-1 in the sixth, when he starts pounding the Polish kielbasa I’ve given him against the counter and yelling no, no, no…
That bastard. That bastard. I’m glad the Astros won.
***
70. I didn’t think they’d reach 70. Altuve was a star, and McHugh and Keuchel were stars, and Carter did pretty fine after June. Sipp was nails in the bullpen, and FIELDS! came around. Feldman did I fine job. Do I feel great about next season? I don’t think so, but they could be better than this year. Some. I’d be really happy if they reach .500. I don’t expect another 19-game jump, but 11 games? Maybe. I’m not feeling it.
Tonight was more of the usual. Peacock left after 4 2/3, run by pitch count, and he didn’t win 30 games this season. There was a rare error by the catcher at home on a tag of the runner, and it wasn’t the Astros cacher. Chapman, De Leon, Sipp, and Qualls combined in relief to retire 13 of 15 steM, with Chapman getting the win. Sipp retired 6 straight, and Qualls 3.
The Mets score came on a Granderson solo in the 4th. The Astros no longer hit home runs, and scored all 3 in the 6 after the Mets pitcher Niese left the game with an elevated heart rate. I hope he’s ok. Petit doubled but was caught stealing. Grossman doubled. Altuve singled driving in Grossman. Carter doubled driving in Altuve. Fowler HBPd, and Dominguez drove in Carter with a single. Dominguez, who is still finishing a 100-meter sprint he started in high school, was out when he tried to stretch a single into a double. There were only 9 Ks for the game, and there was a double switch, whatever that is.
That’s it for me. Thanks for reading, and see you in the void.