Sunday night sucked.
Five hours of excruciating at bats, pitching changes, and commercial breaks. We stayed up till one in the morning with our hearts pounding, only for Carlos Correa to finally put us out of our misery just before 1 a.m. With a golden chance to go up 2-0, we instead settled for a split in H-town.
That’s over now.
Today, we are back in the big apple. No more roof, no more train whistles, no more fans that look like they belong at a nascar race.
On the mound for Houston is the supposedly unbeatable Gerrit Cole.