Sunday, August 27, 2006

Updated Battle Roster

Did some blogroll cleaning this evening. Added a couple of new folks. Although he's been up for a while, Guardsman, is new on the block. I thought I'd written a post introducing him before, but I can't remember if I actually wrote it, or lost interest, and I don't have the attention span to go through my archives and find out. Having a gnat-like attention span is one the the traits that makes Mrs. SFC B love me. Or not, I can never keep that straight.

Anyways, he's Guard. He's a recruiter. It means the RA and USAR people hate him and his annual missions and no category life. Bastard.

Secret Army Girl is a recent, VERY recent AIT grad (congrats commogeek) and she's a Reserve Soldier hence why she gets first billing right under people with pretty banners.

In honor of a contract I wrote last week two new Future Soldiers were added to the recruit list. in Defense (his spelling, not mine) will soon be looking for people to poke with an IV since he'll be a 68W. And young medic, the reason the Army changes MOS codes is to confuse the heck out of each generation of Soldiers. 10 years from now they'll rename something else to 91W, something wholly unrelated to the medical field.

So Much the Better will be shipping out soon for Ft. Benning. Good luck, have fun.

The Astros managed a couple wins against the lowly Pirates, thus keeping a modicum of hope alive. But time is running out for the playoffs, and for me to ever see my money from SSG Rage. Oh well, Lance Berkman is hitting a ton and if he can keep healthy he might wind-up worth the mountain of money he signed for this season. Of course the same thing was said about Bagwell a few seasons ago. Lance Berkman and Roy Oswalt represent the sort of talent a team can be built around. I've rooted for the Astros since moving to Houston in late 1988. I moped around the house the day Glenn Davis was traded. The first ballgame I ever attended was a Reds-Astros tilt at the Astrodome with my dad. The allegations about Rose's gambling had been brewing that pre-season and this was an early, early season game. I didn't know much about baseball at the time, but something my dad explained to me was how wrong Rose's gambling was. That his actions cast speculation over everything else that his team was doing. I don't know if my dad was a Ray Fosse fan or what, but he had no doubt that Rose was gambling on baseball and his own team. He died shortly after that and I never got the chance to find out.

Oh well.

But the connection I share with the Astros is far more to me than just because they were the team where I was living. The Astrodome, to my 12 year old self, was an act of impossible engineering. I was fascinated with the AC unit for the building for cripes sake. I came to the team after the Rainbow unis and shortly before Nolan Ryan took off for Arlington. I got to see Mike Scott at a LensCrafters, and met Rafael Rameriez in the dugout thanks to Jim Ewell (RIP Doc). That same day I almost caught a foul ball off Glenn Davis' bat. Although I missed out on the foul ball, I did get a signed game ball which still sits on my book case in my office.

Although the Astros can bring about moments of sheer frustration and throwing things anger and disappointment, they're too important to me to just move on. It's why I'm a fan. I know that my contribution to their success is an infintesmially small number that isn't quite zero, but it's there. I'm happier when they win, and I'm sadder when they lose. My affection for the Astros goes back farther than my affection for the State of Texas even. That's not something that a losing streak or a bad season can displace. I was an Astros fan when Franklin Stubbs and Pete Incaviglia were the first basemen (I even have a ball with Inky's autograph). They're my boys, win or lose.


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