Collapse familiar to one Red Sox fan

[Jimcs50]

Collapse familiar to one Red Sox fan
Game 5 has strange similarities to 1986 playoffs
By BILL SIMMONS

I feel like flying to Houston and giving everyone a hug.


See, I've been there. It's a special club and not really in a good way. When you get punched in the stomach by a sporting event — I mean, truly walloped — you're never quite the same afterward. The Red Sox have won the World Series; I even wrote a book about it called Now I Can Die in Peace. But that's the thing: You never truly have peace. The strangest things end up triggering painful memories, the stuff you thought had been buried.

During the ninth inning of Monday night's Cards-Astros game, I wasn't hoping the Astros would win. I was hoping they wouldn't blow it. There's a difference. Weird things happen when you haven't won in a long time; the poor Astros have never even appeared in a World Series.

After a while, in that situation, you start expecting to lose. Then one of those seasons rolls around when good things keep happening, and they keep happening, and you wait for the other shoe to drop ... only it never does.


Hard to relax
Eventually, you reach a point that Houston fans reached Monday night — you drop your guard, assume everything is different this season, give in to the moment — and that's when sports can truly crush you. It's happened to me. I didn't want it to happen to them.

And yes, I saw it coming. Before David Eckstein's at-bat in the ninth, I remember thinking, "This has to rank among the happiest crowds I've ever seen at a baseball game." They were three levels beyond ecstatic. They could smell it. They were headed to the World Series. Then Eckstein bleeded out a grounder for a single. You could hear the subtle change inside the ballpark, a slight shift in sound and demeanor.

Uh-oh. These are the Astros. Keep your guard up.

I knew that sound. Knew that feeling better than anyone. Brad Lidge started having trouble throwing strikes against Jim Edmonds. Suddenly, people weren't screaming and waving those towels anymore. You could feel the wheels slowly starting to squeak. Albert Pujols was on deck — nobody wanted any part of him. They started showing those awkward shots of the guys in the dugout, or the people in the stands, everyone with that frozen, "Oh, my God" face going. When Edmonds walked and Lidge seemed rattled enough that Phil Garner felt obliged to visit the mound, the terror alert was officially raised to red.

Now Pujols was digging in with one of those, "He better not hang a slider" looks on his face. If that wasn't scary enough, Fox showed a "St. Louis Cardinals: 39 comeback wins in regular season" graphic. And this is where I hate what happened to me as a sports fan, because I don't think normally about this stuff anymore. Even before the first pitch to Pujols, I was sitting there thinking about the following five things:

• 1. Eckstein's single was just like Gary Carter's single in Game 6 of the '86 Series at Shea — seemingly innocent, but not really.
• 2. Lidge had already thrown eight pitches that could have recorded the final out — five away from the number of pitches Calvin Schiraldi and Bob Stanley threw before the Mets tied Game 6.
• 3. The situation bore an eerie resemblance to Game 5 of the 1986 ALCS, the last time somebody blew a series-clinching ninth inning at home (Angels-Red Sox, also known as the Dave Henderson Game). That series had policemen on horses protecting the field even before the final out (just about the biggest jinx ever), as well as tortured Angels manager Gene Mauch staring blankly from the dugout (saddled by his own immense baggage from Philly's '64 collapse) and a franchise that had never made the World Series. This series had the Astros still hoping to break their 43-year drought to make their first World Series as well as a brutal history of home losses in the NLCS (1980 and 1986). No horses, though.
• 4. Al Michaels announced the Hendu game 20 years ago; during the latter stages of Game 5, he was announcing Monday Night Football at the same time on ABC. Warrants mentioning.
• 5. Roger Clemens was in the dugout for the Hendu Game, Game 6 at Shea and Monday night's game. Also warrants mentioning.


Strike? C'mon!
There was one other thought, of course: Please don't let Lidge throw a strike to Pujols.

Why do I think of these things? Because 1986 and 2003 wiped me out, that's why. You never truly get over it. When the Sox won the Series, I assumed that the scars from Game 6 and the Grady Little Game would heal. Well, they don't. That's why they're scars.

Hang in there, Houston. You never know.

[Marcus Bryant]

Eh, shut the fuck up and play ball.

[Jimcs50]

Time to learn from painful mistakes
By JOHN P. LOPEZ
Copyright 2005 Houston Chronicle


ST. LOUIS — When Roy Oswalt walked out of the dugout and onto the Minute Maid Park field before Game 5, the energy and buzz surrounding him was so thick, the question had to be asked.


Does he understand? He was asked if players, especially the younger ones, have talked about or grasped how long and frustrating a journey Astros fans have taken.

"Not really, no," he said. "I mean, we know this team has never been to the World Series. When you have so many young guys, you don't (think about it). I haven't heard anybody talk about it."

Today, Oswalt and all those younger players in the Astros' clubhouse have a much better understanding. The fact Oswalt is even having to pitch tonight in the National League Championship Series instead of Saturday in Chicago sends a resounding message.

They were too young to know about 1980, 1986 or so many other fruitless years. They were too young to know about 44 years of waiting.


Go with your gut
But worst of all, they were too young Monday night to know better than to count on a win before the third strike of the 27th out.

Two ironies struck the fateful blow that sent this NLCS back to St. Louis for Game 6. If the Astros can avoid both traps tonight, it will be a happy ending.

First, with the game in the balance Monday night, Astros manager Phil Garner decided it was the one time in this series to stick with convention. It ended in ignominy.

The Scrap Iron we've come to love and second-guess would have walked Albert Pujols to load the bases, despite page 12, paragraph 4, line 6 of The Book, which states clearly, "What? Are you crazy?"

You don't put the winning run on base; he can score on a cracked-bat double. You don't put the tying run on second; he can score on a bloop single.

You ride your ace closer and pump fastballs and sliders at their best hitter.

But this time, Garner decided to stick with The Book, rather than walk Pujols and face Reggie Sanders, who hasn't hit or even had a decent at-bat since taking a tumble on the left-field warning track at Busch Stadium in Game 2.

When Pujols stepped in, I expected Garner to order a walk, because it would have been the gutsy, unorthodox thing to do. And his guts haven't failed him.

When Garner took the job at midseason last year, general manager Tim Purpura said Garner asked him: "Do I have the freedom to do what I think is right?"

"We said, 'Of course,' " said Purpura, who at the time was an assistant GM to Gerry Hunsicker. "If he's got (extra sensory perception), I'm glad he does. It's worked."

But Garner did not walk the best player in the game, and the future of this series looks a little hazy.

Brad Lidge offered up a slider so fat he should have stuck an E-Z Tag on it for the Hardy Toll Road. :lol

Which leads to the other ironic twist of Monday night — the one the Astros must learn from beginning today.

Inexperience in such settings kept these Astros oblivious to the heartbreak and history of flops. Youth and not knowing better gave fans the Eric Bruntlett double play in Game 4, Mike Lamb's and Jason Lane's moments in Game 3 and Oswalt in Game 2.


Lidge forgets to pitch
But youth and a youthful mistake cost them Game 5.

Lidge has been in situations like Monday's, so it is much less excusable or understandable no matter the pressure of the moment.

He got ahead of himself and outside his game.

Lidge seemed to take the last out for granted after two strikeouts.

But Lidge seemed so pumped up to strike out the next batter and get on with the pile-on at the pitcher's mound that he started throwing instead of pitching.

He was overthrowing, no doubt. And after David Eckstein singled, only one of Lidge's pitches to Jim Edmonds found the target catcher Brad Ausmus gave him.

Three pitches were up, high in the zone and inside, a sure sign of overthrowing.

The next thing you knew, Pujols was stepping in, and the night went thud, like so many before. The younger Astros got a sickening taste of what baseball has been like in Houston for 44 years.

"Watching on TV, they looked like a team that started to celebrate before it was over," a longtime baseball scout said Tuesday. "A guy like Pujols, he could be 0-for-97 and looking bad, but you still have to make pitches. He'll hit it out of the ballpark if you don't."

It was a painful history lesson that stilled the night and blunted the party.

The younger Astros are going to have to learn from it, or else that party won't come this season.

It's 44 seasons. And 27 outs.

__________________________________________________ _______________



This was my take...it looked like the Astros were celebrating way too early. IMO, baseball players should take a cue from Spurs' players. They do not drink champagne when the make the wild card,(make playoffs) they do not drink champagne when they win a division series(1st round)...they act like they have been there before, they do not get so high, that the low when it comes, and it always does, makes you feel like you lost your soul. The Astros need to play hard for all 27 outs, and not get ahead of themselves. They need to be happy when they win tonight, but do not act like they won the championship...they still have a job to do, and that is play the White Sox in a little over 2 days.

[Jimcs50]

Let's rewind the second-guess tape.
By RICHARD JUSTICE



ST. LOUIS — Hey, you. Yeah, you. Stop that screaming right now. You're scaring people. It's not becoming.


You don't want those goobers in St. Louis to know you're scared, do you? No, you don't. So sit up straight and dry your eyes. Your boys are going to be all right.

They will find some champagne in St. Louis.

It won't be the same as winning at Minute Maid Park. It won't be the sweet scene it should have been.

There will just be me and Milo Hamilton down there spraying them with bubbly. Winning on the road will just make the welcome-home party that much sweeter.

The Astros are still positioned to win their first National League pennant. They can do it as early as tonight in Game 6 at Busch Stadium.

Don't worry. Be happy.

If Roy Oswalt and Roger Clemens can't win one of the next two games, then that stuff about the Astrodome being built on an ancient burial ground, that stuff about a curse, might be true.

And stop muttering about how Brad Lidge should have walked Albert Pujols. Stop muttering about Lidge, period.

Of course he should have walked him. He knows it, you know it, and even I know it. Anyone can know it after watching Pujols hit the longest clutch home run in history to give the Cardinals a 5-4 victory in Game 5 of the National League Championship Series.

Let's rewind the second-guess tape.

There were two outs and two runners on base. The Astros led 4-2 after Lance Berkman's three-run homer.

For about a half-hour, it looked as if Berkman had delivered the single happiest moment in the 44 seasons of baseball in Houston.

If only.



If this is where the pennant was lost, it's going to be as crushing as any loss in history. The Astros were one lousy strike — that's right, one — from winning the National League.

They had their clubhouse ready for a party. They had a television podium set up and tubs of champagne rolled in and sheets of plastic covering the lockers. They were ready to dance.

After Eckstein's single came perhaps the key at-bat, the one that forced the confrontation with Pujols.

Lidge lost the strike zone. He walked Jim Edmonds.

Up steps Pujols.

Give Lidge credit for not giving in to Edmonds. Give Edmonds credit for not expanding the strike zone.

At that point, Phil Garner walked to the mound. He told Lidge "not to give into this guy."

Garner wanted Lidge to work Pujols as carefully as he would work him with no one on base. He wanted him to know that walking him was better than throwing one down the middle.

That conversation sounds eerily like the one Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda had with reliever Tom Niedenfuer during the 1985 playoffs.


Just walk him
With Jack Clark coming up to bat, Lasorda waddled to the mound and appears to have told Niedenfuer: "Don't walk him, but don't give him anything to hit." :lol

Which is about the dumbest thing a manager can say to a pitcher. As one current National League manager said: "You should not put that responsibility on the pitcher's shoulder. Just order the intentional walk. You get into that 'don't give in' stuff, and everyone gets messed up."

Niedenfuer didn't walk Clark, but the home run he allowed was maybe the hardest ever hit in the NLCS — until Pujols crushed that Lidge slider Monday night.

Speaking of Pujols, he was articulate and thoughtful in the interview room after the game.

Who knew? Until then, about all reporters had gotten from him was some muttering about how they'd better get away from his locker.

Here's the second-guess. What Garner should have said to Lidge was: "Walk Pujols."

Twenty-four hours after the fact, we all know that.

That walk would have put the tying run in scoring position with Reggie Sanders, a tremendous clutch hitter himself, coming up.

But you have to pick the guy you want to beat you. You want the second-best guy to beat you.

Garner hoped Lidge would stay out of the strike zone and that Pujols would chase a pitch.

Pujols swung and missed on a slider. Did he do this intentionally? Great hitters will sometimes look bad on one pitch, hoping the pitcher will throw it again in the same spot.

Lidge threw another one. It caught too much of the plate. Home run.

Pujols said he was looking for a slider and was surprised Lidge threw one. Good point.

Lidge's slider is the single-best pitch in baseball. It's hard and has wicked action. At its best, it's unhittable.

But he also has a fastball clocked consistently in the 94-97 mph range. Even if Lidge didn't have the slider, he'd be a great closer. His fastball is that good.

Garner has wanted him to throw more fastballs. He may want to have that chat again.

As for Lidge, don't worry about him. He also blew a save in the final weekend of the regular season.

He also has been the most reliable and unhittable reliever in baseball for most of the last two seasons.

All we've learned the last couple of weeks is that he's not perfect. This stuff happens to closers.


Resilient reliever
They work without a safety net. They have to be as mentally tough as they are physically talented.

Lidge is both.

Don't think he's going to get timid or rattled. He won't. It's just not his nature.

He's part of a team that's as close as any team I've been around. And out in the bullpen, there's a veteran guy named Russ Springer who almost always says or does the right thing when a young guy has had a bad day at the office.

Lidge has overcome more adversity than most athletes experience in a lifetime.

He pitched in 23 games during his first four professional seasons. One year, it was his elbow. Another, it was a knee. And the elbow again. And then a broken arm.

Four years ago, he was ready to move back to Denver and finish up the degree he'd started at Notre Dame.

"I figured it wasn't meant to be," Lidge said.

He was 24 years old and looking at the end of the thing he'd always wanted to do, the thing he'd done better than almost anyone.

In the end, he didn't quit. Tim Purpura had long talks with him. So did Dewey Robinson and Burt Hooton and a lot of others.

Purpura tore a page from the San Francisco Giants media guide and showed him how Robb Nen had many of the same problems before becoming one of baseball's best closers. Lidge changed his arm slot, stopped throwing his curveball and arrived in the big leagues a year later.

Nothing that happens now — no home run, no question, no pressure — is going to be as bad as those early days. Having a dream denied is far worse than having a dream delayed.

He's one of those guys I'd trust my kids with. If the Astros have another lead, they'd certainly trust Brad Lidge with it.

[email protected]

[Horry For 3!]

Theres no fucking collapse those idiots. Stros are in the World Series!

[scott]

Where are the articles about Red Sox fans come to terms with the fact that their season is over and that no one wants to read about them anymore?

[Spurminator]

Now this is more similar to another Red Sox series.

The 1975 World Series, where Fisk hit the dramatic homerun and the Sox still lost the next game and the Series.

[BigDaddyMatty]

Now this is more similar to another Red Sox series.

The 1975 World Series, where Fisk hit the dramatic homerun and the Sox still lost the next game and the Series.
Go Reds Go. Joe Morgan is the MAN!

[Spurminator]

Speaking of wich, the 1975 World Series Game 7 will be on ESPN Classic this afternoon... For those of you who aren't watching the UT/TTU game for whatever reason.