Holy Toledo!

What in the name of Charlie Kerfeld? Billy Hatcher, Bill Doran, Dickie Thon, Scotty, Denny Walling, Terry Puhl--This one's for you. I never thought I would see it in my lifetime, but the Houston Astros have made it to the World Series. Phil Garner, Jose Cruz, Mark Bailey, Nolan Ryan, and Alan Ashby, all members of the 86'Astros that came oh-so-close to bringing it home for H-town before losing the 16 inning heartbreaker to the Mets, have all had a front row seat for this indescribable ride.

Garner the Manager, Cruz and Bailey the coaches, Nolan the "Advisor", and Ashby the broadcaster must be feeling a great sense of redemption nearly 20 years later. I was in 7th grade when Dave Smith broke my heart. Milo hasn't moved an inch.

This feels good. I left my heart in section 306 of Minute Maid park on Monday night, but tonight, the cold-blooded assassin Roy O, stole it back. I feel really good for the guys on the team because I believe they are great guys. And you know what? A lot of the Cardinals are great guys too. Yes. Phat Albert may have kicked us all in the gut, but he is a great player--in my opinion the best the grand ole game has to offer--and he is a good guy, living for Christ, striving for excellence in his chosen profession and if I have to be gut-kicked by someone, I want it to be him. Had it been Mark Grudzelanek or John Mabry, I may have folded and taken the vow of silence forever. It is irrelevant now--Fat Elvis will be swinging it in the series and he will be bringing 24 of his closest friends to Chicago with him.

I'm excited to finally--after 25 years--watch my boys lay it on the line in the Fall Classic. Better yet, thanks to Mr. Pujols (and you must call him MR. from now on) I have a new perspective about sports. They aren't real life. Not even close. I found myself putting all of my eggs in the Astros basket the last few weeks--too invested, became an idol, and for a Christian that's dangerous territory. Mr. P's moonshot slapped me in the face and reminded me that my true joy and my true identity is not in temporal things like baseball, but the hope that is assured--the beautiful King of Kings that never blows the save.

That being said, I'm really happy and I will thoroughly enjoy watching the games next week against Chicago. I'll root hard and cheer on the team I've been cheering for a quarter century. But it won't be life and death. Not even close.

Thanks Al. Err, I mean Mr. Pujols.