This hasn't been a sports blog, but I could write a bit about sports. When I was a kid, I used to love baseball. Both to play it, and to watch it on TV.
Of course, I was an Astros fan, being almost a native Houstonian. ( not native?) The family moved to Houston when I was real little. I was born "in the valley". Rio Grande valley, that is.
That was even before Houston had a major league team. Major league baseball came to Houston in the 1962 season, and they played in a smallish park called "Colt Stadium". That's because the Astros didn't become the Astros until 1965, the same year the Astrodome opened. In 1962, they were called the Colt .45s. Most people just called them the Colts for the first few years.
Dad would take us to games. We'd sit in the center field bleachers, and I remember the mosquitoes.
We didn't ever go to day games, but there were not many day games after the news that people passed out because of the intense heat of the city.
Now for the Rusty Staub story. Well, us little kiddies never met Rusty, but we sat in the bleachers cheering for him. We tried to get his attention by making a lot of noise. Like yelling"Hey Rusty!". One time, he turned around. I don't remember if he waved or not. Maybe he thought we were all nuts or something.
Rusty went on to have a good career. May he RIP, doggone it.
BTW, baseball season was set to start today...
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