Not that it's a bad thing, but the media is about to anoint Houston as America's feel good team

In 2005, after Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans, it was only a matter of time before the NFL came to the rescue. As everybody knows, it took five years, but the Saints finally won a Super Bowl, healing the city of all its woes. It had to happen. Joe Buck demanded it. An American city had nearly drowned, and the only true CPR was the Lombardi Trophy. The nation rejoiced, with or without a repaired system of levies, and we all moved on, thanks to the spiritual magic of Roger Godell.

Last year, America celebrated the Cubs' long journey, ending the "Curse of the Billy Goat." You know the Curse of the Billy Goat, right? We all received a crash course. It's a curse, involving - well - a billy goat. Everybody cheered when it ended... just as humankind frolicked when plucky, courageous Boston defeated the dreaded "Curse of the Bambino," or, later, when the plucky, courageous Redsocks healed the nation following the bombing of the Boston Marathon.  

The great American media narrative goes this way: When a city or a region endures a catastrophe, its pro sports team becomes a spiritual beacon, leading everybody out of the darkness. 

What drivel. 

Today, we are stunned at the devastation in southeastern Texas. Dear God, it's horrible. Let me be the millionth person to state the obvious: Our nation must pull together to do whatever it takes to save and restore our people. I mean, if we can't help our fellow Americans, what the hell have we become? But... listen... 

It doesn't mean the Houston Astros must win the World Series.

Baseball won't heal the loss of one home. It won't rebuild any factory or fill the absence of a loved one. It won't do a goddamn thing. But mark these words: the media will soon start pushing that insufferable narrative -- the Astros are playing to save the soul of a tortured city, carrying the people of Houston on their backs.

This will come about because, as a marketing campaign, it works - even when it doesn't. Notlong ago, the Tigers were hailed as the psychic savior of economically stricken Detroit, until they were swept in the post-season. Oh, well... if they had won a world series, not one factory job would have been saved, not one uptick in the manufacturing base would have occurred. Nothing would have changed. But by then, the media would have moved on, anyway. 

Brace yourselves: The narrative machine will soon kick in. Houston - a generally loathsome billionaire's toy franchise, which has been built by coming in last for almost a decade, cheaply capturing high draft picks - is about to become Cinderella. The Astros have by far the best lineup in the American League - good grief, they drafted first three years in a row (2012-14) and second in 2015: How can you NOT build a winner? - and now they'll have Fox Sports in their corner.
     
Okay, I realize that this looks cruel. If I sound cynical, maybe it's because the only time in our lives that New York City wore the media's bloody shirt - after 9-11 - we collapsed in that final inning against Arizona and then listened to that creepy sand flea franchise mock us by playing "New York, New York" on its stadium p.a. system. Yes, they did. Yes, we remember.

Boston has lost four in a row. Dare we start believing? Either way, this isn't about destiny, or God's plan, or saving a region's soul. It's about pitching, pitching, pitching. That's all, folks. Two in the loss column. Two. And fuck the billy goats.