Rock On...

No Tigers.

No Brewers.

No problem.

The baseball gods smile on us once again. Ever since we moved to Texas, the Major League playoffs have given me at least one sentimental favorite to cheer for.

In 2004, you had the St. Louis Cardinals (my brother in law's team), the Houston Astros (my new "hometown" team), and who couldn't root for the Boston Red Sox as they vanquished the Evil Empire.

In 2005, you had the same National League players, but by this time all of the Red Bird fans had become a little much to stomach so I had to pull for the "hometown team". Of course, my other brother in law's team felt the need to rip out the hearts deep in Texas. The Pale Hose had their moment in the sun.

In 2oo6, could it be true? Could the baseball gods really be on our side? The Tigers fended off the vaunted Yankees and then throttled the Athletics. Alas, we would bow to those pesky Cardinals. But man, oh man. What a ride.

So what would 2007 bring? The boys from Motown brought expectations, the guys in Brewtown brought potential not seen in some time. For most of the months that followed it looked as if we would be able to enjoy an indian summer. But alas, that would be the cruelest pun. October was welcomed as the official start to football season.

But wait!

What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the Wild Card! And the Colorado Rockies are the sun!

I know if Aunt Mary wasn't actually in the "Rock Pile" losing her mind, she was somewhere near a television or radio acting the part of the fool. And why not. She's a loyal fan. She deserves this moment.

Of course, the baseball gods couldn't let a playoff go by without holding my interest. They must have know this was the only way to keep me in the fold. Otherwise, why would I stay up until close to midnight, losing my mind as Jorge Julio blew the game in the 13th, or as Kaz, and Tulo, and Holliday all took their place among the other glorious...Rockies...of the...past? I digress. Why? WHY I ASK should I be waking my wife as I thrust my fists into the air when Matt Holliday took his memorable nose dive into playoff history?

Because, I. AM. A ROCKIE. (via Aunt Mary.)

So FIGHT ON, Matt Holliday!

Strike 'em out, Jeff Francis!

Manage...um...well, Clint Hurdle!

Beat the Phillies! (Mets fans everywhere are behind you, right Anne?)

Rock On, boys. Rock On.