The Pledge

Okay, here's what I think of that loss:



But you know, it was sort of a magnificent loss, otherwise.  A sort of "Band of brothers," all in it together loss.

Except for two people.

I pledge myself,  I pledge the American people, to the following:

—I will never again watch a game in which James Paxton is pitching.  When his name is up in "Probable starters," I will choose that night to watch "The Deuce" reruns.  Or, you know, ANYTHING ELSE AT ALL.

—I will never again watch another Giancarlo Stanton at-bat.  If he comes up to the plate when I'm watching at home, I will go and get a beer.  And if he comes up to the plate when I'm at the Stadium...I will go and get a beer.

I'm serious, though.  I will never again watch either man play.  Not for so much as a pitch.

Look, the Houston Astros are a better team than this year's New York Yankees.  A much, much better team.  The 2019 Houston Astros are probably in the Top 50 of best teams ever to play the game.

But we had them tonight.  We had a great chance to steal this win, and put them behind the eight-ball.

And we blew it.

Sure, we blew it in part because of HAL, and because of Phil Nevin, and because of a lot of pure bad luck.

But we blew it most of all because those two insufferable ninnies, Giancarlo Stanton and James "Five Times Pettitte" Paxton, spit the bit.

Well, that wraps up this year.  Three straight in our park, I think, for your Houston Astros, a truly admirable team.  And you know, chances are they would have won anyway.

But I will not watch the jerks who let this one get away.  Not ever.  I take the pledge:  until James Paxton is on the roster of another ball team, I will not watch him pitch.

Until Giancarlo is on the roster of another ball team, I will not watch him bat.  Not ever.  Under any circumstances.

I am sure they are now quaking amidst their giant mounds of money.