As a baseball fan, living in Europe brings with it certain challenges. I've only ever been to a handful of Astros games IRL. I usually only catch one game a week, if that. I'll watch the previous night's highlights over breakfast, or I'll get dressed for work during Astros After Dark.

This subreddit (and Astros Twitter) lets me feel a precious connection to the fanbase. The game threads, the shitposts, the memes, it almost makes up for not being able to be in the juicebox with the team, for not seeing the huge moments of the season as they happen live.

But the playoffs are different. For the playoffs, I'll get up, bleary-eyed, in the small hours of the night, trying not to wake my wife as I clamber over her, go into to the living room, and watch the Astros destroy whatever foolish opposition dares to lay in their path. I'll sit there, in the darkness, with the volume as low as it'll go, celebrating every clutch hit or epic throw with a silent fist pump. I'll go to work after a bitter loss of glorious win, almost dozing at my desk, cooking up some shitty meme to post for a measly 15 upvotes, because what was it worth if I didn't piss off a yankee fan on /r/baseball?

And your Houston Astros just clinched the AL West, and sealed my fate for another sleepless October. I can feel it. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall wear no crown and win no glory. But Carlos Correa, and José Altuve, and Yulieski Gurriel, and King Tuck, and all the rest, surely will. I literally will not rest until they are hoisting another Commissioner's Trophy for their second World Series win. It is known.

They're God's chosen team apparently.