It wasn't about politics as the Houston Astros stepped onto the diamond at Dodger Stadium. It wasn't about a trophy or names written in the stars. It wasn't just a game either. It was about a city filled with people who had been through enough.
The boys in orange decided to do what they could, for seven more games, to make it better.
Two teams comprised of some of the greatest athletes in the world took to a field and sparred for seven entire games, each striving for the championship. Each wanted it so badly they could taste it. Each had powerhouses of the past (LAD: Chase Utley; HOU: Carlos Beltran), arms made of dynamite (LAD: Clayton Kershaw; HOU: Justin Verlander), and mighty bats (LAD: Justin Turner, Yasiel Puig; HOU: George Springer, Jose Altuve). It was Goliath vs. Goliath; neither team inferior enough to be considered a David in the fight.
But only one team had a gut-wrenching story.
The last weekend in August was the worst goodbye to summertime that Houston has ever encountered. The scorching hot weather was replaced with menacing winds, but that was only the beginning. Torrential downpour haunted us for three days straight, pummeling us with floodwaters that even our bayou city couldn't maintain.
We all lost something during those three days--days in which we began to wonder if we were in hell and the furious fires had been replaced with angry, churning water. When the waters came, they didn't stop rising--and we had nowhere to go. No one to turn to.
And then, the rain stopped pouring and the waters calmed down. It was in the aftermath that Houston became what it has always been at its heart: Generous. People came together, heroes emerging from the shadows to rescue and assist their city in shambles. Stars like Mattress Mack and JJ Watt donated tens of millions of dollars and assisted with necessary supplies and shelter. And one team, the Houston Astros, spent their Friday--a day intended to be a break from a grueling travel schedule before a three-game series with the Mets--helping their community.
In the same series, a patch emerged--Houston Strong. It became an anthem through which we rose up better, stronger, fighting for what we had and those who made up what we were.
Time sped up again, and Houston pulled itself back up by its bootstraps, thankful for the assistance from its people and the kindness of the cities, states, and nations around it. We fell back into a rhythm, desperate for normalcy. In that search, we found a welcome distraction: The Astros were winning. A lot.
It was during the ALCS that the dream grew a bit closer to a reality. Seven nail-biters resulted in an Astros victory, and all of a sudden, Houston, a city hammered by the tragic hand of nature, was a mere seven games away from its very first World Series victory.
The Dodgers were formidable. With an offense that included power hitters Justin Turner and Yasiel Puig and a defense stacked with arguably the best starter (Clayton Kershaw) and closer (Kenley Jansen) in baseball, they would not be easy to master. Worse yet, they had the home field advantage. The first and last games would be played on their Los Angeles mountaintop, among their fans and the stadium they knew so well. This win would be fought for, and there were no guarantees.
Each team had a will. It was the team with the story that made a way.
I don't know if God interferes with sporting events, but it sure felt like He did. Bats were hotter than ever, and the two Goliath teams swung for the fences. The Astros alone hit 15 home runs during the seven-game series. It seemed as if Series MVP George Springer had laser focus ––like he could see the pitch before it left the pitcher's hand and knew exactly where to send it–– and his five home runs were instrumental in the team's ultimate victory.
If God were rooting for either team, it was evident He was rooting for the Astros.
True to their name, the Astros shot for the stars, edging out a victory in Game 7 to win their first-ever World Series. It was the end of a season, the end of a dry-spell, but yet somehow in the midst of the victory a promise bloomed. A promise that this team would be great for a long time yet. The talent was there, to be certain.
The physique, the skill, the technique, the heart... It was all there. But the Dodgers had all of that, too. So what made the Astros different? And what will make them different in the years to come?
That's easy. Tragedy.
It seemed as if the tone of the entire series was an almost desperate sense of urgency. Not for a win, or a title, or a ring, but of a team for a city. A city they loved; a city they called home. Each athlete wore his own heart on his sleeve, fighting hard for a people who had faced a shattering trial, and somehow emerged with heads held high. All the higher, now.
The Astros are the 2017 World Series champions, and their victory could not have been more timely.
This was history well-earned.
