The Astros lost their fourth straight game last night, and I’m glad. (Yeah, that’s right, I read the box scores every day, even in Paris.) Not only do they deserve to suffer for being stingy with their baseballs, but Minute Maid Park is one of four stadiums I still haven’t visited. The more the Astros lose, the emptier it’ll be when I finally get there. Of course, the ‘stros still drew 31,365 fans last night—not bad for a last-place team barely winning a third of its games. If not for last season’s playoff run, the ballpark would be half empty by now. Thanks a lot, Beltran.
I’m also rooting against the Reds, Padres, and Nationals.
(THE NON-BASEBALL TRAVEL UPDATE, DAY 2: Yesterday evening, despite the fact that I was about to have a hypoglycemic episode, my parents felt the need to explore every street in the neighborhood in order to find the perfect restaurant. When we/they finally picked one and went inside and sat down and discovered that, among other things, the menu was in French and English, we got up and left because, according to my dad, the place was “franchised.” Of course, when we finally discovered a place that we all liked, we had to ask the waiter to translate.
I’ve decided to accept being dragged around like a six-year-old for 12 more days; my parents are the ones paying for the trip, and anyway, I don’t exactly act my age when I’m in New York.)