Tim breathed a long, deep, resigned sigh. The sigh of someone who should be content and happy even, but just isn’t. The 2017 Houston Astros had been bulldozing their way through the American League, decimating good teams and embarrassing bad ones. Tim had bore witness to all the home games, just like every year since the park opened in 2000 and he was installed along the upper left field wall of the stadium. For such a high profile placement of train tracks, it was a very rote and boring lifestyle when it came down to it, even during the baseball season. The offseason is when things really got bad.
Suddenly Tim’s peaceful reflection was shattered by Jimmy the train rumbling down the tracks after Carlos Beltran’s home run.
“YEEE-HAWWW! WOO WOO, MOTHERFUCKERS! ASTROS COMIN’ AT CHA!!!” Jimmy bellowed as he pulled his one cart full of inexplicable pumpkin-sized oranges.
“How do you still get so dang excited for Astros home runs these days, Jimmy? I mean, they happen so often now they’re practically non-events,” Tim muttered as he rolled his eyes.
“MAKIN’ UP FOR THOSE LEAN YEARS, TIMMY MY BOY! LASTROS, MY METAL ASS! WOOOOOO!” Jimmy screamed.
It had been so long since a home run had made him feel alive, Tim thought.
He did get a pretty good chuckle a while back when Nelson Cruz hit stupid Jimmy with a home run ball. Tim still wasn’t sure how Jimmy survived that, but maybe that helps explain some of his recent over-exuberance. Ever since that happened, he stared longingly at Cruz whenever he was in town, just wistfully half-hoping he might hit him, too. He’d heard Mike Zunino had nearly hit balls out of Safeco Field before, but had also seen him strike out a billion times whenever he played the Astros. Oh, look, there he is again, Tim thought. Big Mike up to bat. Here comes an easy...
...Oh. Oh my god. It’s gonna......OH SHI-