Hey Houston - We’re #6!
Man, we can’t even excel at sucking. That honor, according to Forbes, goes to Atlanta, though it looks increasingly like Seattle will be passing them in the next couple of months. With the Rockets about to succumb to the McGrady phenomenon once again, and the Astros winding up for a truly hideous summer, we might be able to crack the top 5. The Texans’ slow improvement is a troubling long-term trend, however.
Here’s Houston’s entry. I’ve decided to augment Forbes’ blurb with some of my favorite elements of sporting misery from my home town heroes. The Rockets, being the city’s most successful franchise, just have one citation here. The Oilers had by far the most hilarious of mishaps (I’m very disappointed that I couldn’t find any pictorial record of Buddy Ryan’s sucker-punching Kevin Gilbride - see #5 here). As indicated by my pics, it’s the Astros who have most capably delivered heartbreak to our town.
The cavalcade of misery begins.
The epic fail by which all other epic fails are measured.
The ball still hasn’t landed. This remains the most deflating moment in my history as a sports fan.
Seriously? You couldn’t win one lousy game?
Unlike most around here, I consider this to be Texans’ worst #1 overall pick EVAR.
Oh Ralph. This is so beneath you.
He seems pretty good. Let’s trade him for Milt May.
Duck, ye Thon!
No worries. Jim Clancy will be an excellent replacement.
I’ve got no snark for this one.
Asshole.
Yeah, yeah, the umps shouldn’t have been swayed by the crowd. But jeez, Toros, you couldn’t hold onto a 5-run lead?
Fucking Lenny Dykstra. Fucking Ray Knight. Fucking Gary Carter. Fucking Doc Gooden. Fucking Wally Backman. Fucking Daryl Strawberry. Fucking Jesse Orosco. Etc.
Included because of the heartbreaking hair, mustaches and tiny pants.
As a bonus, click here to see how Houston managed to fail even in the realm of cheap-ass Roy Scheider noir thrillers. The fictional Astros ace featured in the trailer was apparently an amalgamation of Bob Knepper and Juan Agosto (WTF???!?!!111!). I’m not sure who the hook-handed guy was based on. Maybe Dave Dravecky.
April 21, 2008 at 5:13 pm
Go rent “Urban Cowboy” and spend the night with Bud, Sissy and Uncle Bob. You’ll feel better.
April 21, 2008 at 5:39 pm
Well put CJD, when I see a pic of Bud I immediately think @Bud. I yelled at him once: “Sell the Oilers Bud!” Little did I ever conceive he’d move the goddam team.
I did attend the game, against the Jets, and watched Buddy punch Gilbride. That stupid gimmick offense ‘the chuck and duck’ was their undoing in Buffalo and against the best teams - with no tight ends or vaunted rushing attack there wasn’t a clock in the league the Oilers could kill.
Winning 1 freaking game against the CWS was all I asked myself - just 1 freaking game. I think the Astros hold the all-time record for giving up grandslams - made that season.
Actually, I hated the Celtics so much, I enjoyed Ralph’s punch of that little f-er Sichting (or whatever his name was).
Albeit a different school, the ‘83 meltdown by UH & Akeem was an entirely forgettable moment(hopefully 1 day - nahh, never happens)
April 21, 2008 at 8:31 pm
Dennis Johnson was a fucking man. Love that guy. Olajuwon’s Nigerian underhanded haymaker was also excellent.
April 21, 2008 at 9:33 pm
The ‘Stros traded Morgan for Lee May, not Milt. Oh, and don’t forget they got Tommy Helms in that deal, too! I still have my Tommy Helms model glove in a trunk in the basement.
After watching the fourth quarter of tonight’s Rockets game, I think I’m going to have to break down and buy the “Clutch City” DVD set at amazon.com. Ugh. UGH.
I just thank the baby Jesus my dad raised me as a Cowboys fan. Seriously: Roger Staubach or Dan Pastorini - who you going with?
April 22, 2008 at 5:18 am
CJD is Pasadena born and bred. He doesn’t need to rent “Urban Cowboy.” He lived it.
April 22, 2008 at 12:55 pm
That’s a vicious lie. I was Sagemont born and bred. I only got a residual Pasagetdowndena film on me when the prevailing winds came from the east.
As a result, I only had a very small “Sissy” license plate in the back window of my Caprice Classic.
For some reason, people mistook the message I was trying to convey with that license plate.
And Woody Bombay is right, of course. I got my May’s mixed up. At least I didn’t say he was traded for Sean May.
April 23, 2008 at 10:43 am
FYI - Night Game kicks all kinds of ass.