I became an Astros fan when my family became a part-holder of a season ticket on the third-base line in 1979. That year, the Astros had a lead of over ten games at the All-Star break, and sunk like a lead balloon. So they signed Nolan Ryan to a record-breaking contract, and behind his arm, Joe Niekro's, Vern Ruhle's, Joe Sambito's, and the last couple of months of J.R. Richards's, the Astros took a three-game lead with three left to play against the second-place team, the Dodgers—and promptly lost all three (in part because of a teenage rookie named Valenzuela performing brilliantly in a September callup), before winning the division with the 163rd game. That pennant race was quickly forgotten because the Astros then blew a 2-game-to-1 lead in the best-of-five against the Phillies, losing two straight games in extra innings despite late-inning multiple-run leads in both, and the Phillies went on to become one of the most mediocre teams that ever won the World Series.

People forget 1981, but that strike year, with the only eight-team playoff until the 1990s, the Astros became the first team to blow a 2-game-to-0 lead, and lost to the eventual World Series champion LA Dodgers.

Of course, there was 1986, where the Astros lost a dramatic sixteen-inning battle in Game 6 to the Mets, who went on to win the World Series. Game 6 was painful by itself, but the Astros blew two other late-inning leads that NLCS, and really did have Game 7 in the bag with Mike Scott ready to go to shut down the Mets a third time.

In the 1990s, the Astros made the playoffs a passel of times, but regularly went down in the wildcard round against the Braves or the Padres. They finally won a playoff series against the Braves in 2004, and then lost to the Cardinals after blowing a 3-game-to-2 lead.

So I should be thrilled about 2005. And I really liked the drama of that 18-inning Game 4 NLDS, which was nice poetic justice for the 1986 disaster. And it was cool that the team was in good spirits to what seemed like a repeat of the 1986 ALCS, when Dave Henderson hit that home run off of Donnie Moore, and the Angels lost a chance to win the series against the Red Sox 4 games to 1. That Pujols home run was a monster (and Pujols is an Astros name—it's still hard for me to think of Albert instead of the inferior Luis) that by all rights should have provided the storyline for a dramatic Cardinals come-from-behind in seven games, but Oswalt was Oswalt, and shut them down in Game 6, and the Astros are in their first World Series tonight.

But it somehow seems sullied by the fact that the Astros didn't win their division, and thus don't deserve to be here. I can't get up that much enthusiasm for this team or this World Series. I was pleased to see John Thorn articulate my feelings on the subject, though the op-ed looks like the op-ed editor made some sloppy cuts. I'm going to miss Game 1 tonight to go to a friend's party; will probably miss Game 3 for social reasons; and have dinner plans for the night that Game 7 is currently scheduled. And I don't feel a lot of, if any, regret. I was at one major-league and one minor-league baseball game this year; I've seen the Astros once in the last five years, and it was when their stadium was still called Enron Field. I like Enron Field Creditors' Committee Stadium Minute Maid Park much more than I liked the Astrodome, where I grew up with its particularly perverted brand of cavernous turf baseball (one which RFK seems to wish to emulate, but with worse food), but I don't feel any real passion for that team in the strange brick-red or pinstripe jerseys. Where are the rainbow stripes? I'll even settle for the muted dark-blue-cap shoulder-stripe version.

Perhaps all the sports pages are repeating this, but just because I know it off the top of my head: Frank Thomas and Jeff Bagwell were born on the same day, both won the 1994 MVPs with OPSs unprecedented in the modern era until Barry Bonds' cream and clear years, and are both in their first World Series—and neither can play the field (and Thomas can't play at all) because of injuries. If they were starting, that might've tipped it for me to watch.

Tom Kirkendall is blogging intelligently on the subject, and is still a fan. Baseball Prospectus's Dave Haller explores the history of the Killer B's, and why Bagwell's contract pretty much dooms the team in 2006.