It is a pain only those who have experienced it can truly understand. It is a hollow feeling, like you haven’t eaten in five days and no food in sight. It is an emotional blow to the gut, like when the young lady that you believed was the love of your life tells you that not only do you not have a shot now, but that you never, ever will.

I am, of course, talking about being a sports fan in Houston.

The latest incarnation of the defeatist demon that plagues this wonderful town reared its ugly head Monday night, when the hometown Astros, who have never been to the World Series in their 45-year existence, had the defending NL champion St Louis Cardinals on the ropes. They had a 3-1 series lead, a 4-2 lead in the top of the ninth inning with two outs, and their nearly unhittable closer, Brad Lidge, on the mound with two strikes against the pesky Cardinal shortstop David Eckstein.
I was watching in my living room at home, and was beside myself with ecstasy. They’re finally going to do it, I remember saying. It’s really going to happen.
A couple of minutes later, I was face down on my hardwood floor, prostrate, tears in my eyes. I didn’t even have the air in my lungs to say, “What the hell just happened?”
Credit to Albert Pujols to coming up with a huge play when his team needed it most. Now that I’ve given him credit, he can go straight to Hell without passing Go and burn for all eternity. And he can say hello to past members of the Phillies, Mets, Braves, Bills, and Steelers when he gets there. There’s a special wing down there for those who crushed our dreams in Houston over the years. It’s not as big as the Red Sox wing, but it’s bigger than most.

And this has gone on for years. When the endless replays of the home run ran over and over again on television, all the old feelings came back.
The Astros blowing a lead with Nolan Ryan on the mound in 1980.
The Oilers losing twice to the Steelers in the AFC championship with Earl, Bum and the rest. Sure wish we had had instant replay then. I know Mike Renfro does.
The Astros in 86. What if we had got to Game 7, where Mike Scott would have owned the Mets once again? Maybe a routine grounder from Art Howe would have rolled through Bill Buckner's legs?
The Oilers and Bills. The greatest choke in sports history. Nuff said. I still say Don Beebe was out of bounds and came back in.
We got a brief taste in the mid 90's, thanks to Hakeem Olajuwon, Clyde Drexler and the rest of the Rockets. However, in most sports fans' minds, there will always be an asterisk next to those championships because those were the two years that Michael Jordan was retired.
The Oilers left town and became the Titans, who lost the Super Bowl by an arm's length to the Rams.
What seemed like an endless parade of playoff losses to the cocky Braves.
Losing last year to the Cardinals, and losing Beltran and Kent as well.
And now, the one-pitch-away-from-glory game. The one that got away.

So, what happens now? Roy Oswalt, winner of 40 plus games the past two seasons, gets the ball in what is without a doubt the most important game in franchise history. I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to have a generation’s worth of hopes and dreams of an entire city resting on your back. Go get ‘em, Oz. The Astro bats must come alive, and manager Scrapiron has got to guess right every single time.
And, should it come to it, Brad Lidge must take the ball at the end of the game and completely forget about the worst day of his life...day before yesterday.
Can they do it? Sure. Will they do it? The schizoid animal that is the Houston sports fan would answer that two ways. One side would say that it is their time, that they are in fact a team of destiny. The other would speak of curses and bad luck and summarize by saying, “C’mon, it’s the Astros.”

A man much wiser than me once said that faith was defined as believing in something when everything tells you not to. In that spirit, I join the faithful one more time on the razor’s edge, and will cheer my team on with every fiber of my being...at least that which is left after Monday night. The mere existence of the hell that we fans have been in dictates that there is in fact a heaven...and we’re going to get there. Today is as good a day as any.

Go Astros!!!!!