Friday, May 07, 2004
Astros-Braves
Last night I awoke, screaming in the pitch-black darkness of my bedroom. I couldn't get it out of my mind... the most haunting of images... an apparition dressed in gray. He stared at me and slowly walked my way. As shivers shot down my spine, I stood frozen, wanting to look away, but unable to turn my head, or even close my eyes. After a moment, the ghost stood face-to-face with me, smirking, his eyes piercing mine. Then he made his move. In an instant, I felt my chest explode and I tried to react, but I was too late. I felt the warm stream coat my hands, and I looked up to see the ghost holding my still-beating heart. He howled in laughter as he turned to walk away. But before he faded into the night, I saw the name embroidered across his shoulders... "Weiss."
Weiss... he of the cat-like reflexes... rider of the pale horse... his horrific disturbance of my slumber can only mean one thing... It's time to play the Braves.
Really, it's been five years since Walt Weiss singlehandedly killed Houston's hopes of a postseason series win. I should get over it. But I haven't. An Astros ass-kicking of the Braves tonight would provide a good therapy session to help me along.
Tim Redding, it's up to you, buddy. Your turnaround starts tonight.
|
Weiss... he of the cat-like reflexes... rider of the pale horse... his horrific disturbance of my slumber can only mean one thing... It's time to play the Braves.
Really, it's been five years since Walt Weiss singlehandedly killed Houston's hopes of a postseason series win. I should get over it. But I haven't. An Astros ass-kicking of the Braves tonight would provide a good therapy session to help me along.
Tim Redding, it's up to you, buddy. Your turnaround starts tonight.
Longhorn Sites
Astros Sites