In any well-considered list of the all-time worst performances by an Astros team in a game that meant something truly signifcant in the standings for that season, Tuesday's 10-3 loss, with all ten San Francisco runs being allowed in the second inning, would have to rank very high. Yet the 2003 Astros have gone us all one better. On Friday night against the Milwaukee Brewers, Houston added a second all-time worst game under pressure (that's two such games in the same season and in the same week) to the list. In the first two innings, the Astros could neither pitch nor field, and their professional lives depended upon it. The Brewers took every one of the multitudinous gifts offered to them in those innings, scoring three runs in the first and an unbelieveable six in the second. The result was a shocking, infuriating, and ultimately heartbreaking 12-5 loss that pushes the Astros out of first place and the Chicago Cubs into a perilous half-game lead in the division with three games left to play for Chicago and only two now for Houston (86-74).

Jeriome Robertson's pitching line for the night was unspeakably bad: (0.1 / 2 H / 3 R / 2 ER / 2 W), but virtually all of that badness over such a short time was precipitated by the inability of Robertson (15-9) and his teammates to field the ball. Had Roberton fielded cleanly Scott Podsednik's roller up the 1B line on the initial defensive play of the game, the entire first inning, and perhaps the second, too, would have been different. But Robertson didn't make the play; he choked on it. That's the only way I can describe a play that should have been made, and matters snowballed from there. Bill Hall forced Podsednik at 2B for an out, but Brady Clark poked a single to LF. Richie Sexson wallked, and Mark Smith was also walked, as Robertson fought his control terribly. High and outside most of the time, nowhere close to the zone, Robertson gave up an RBI single to LF by Wes Helms before Jimy Williams made a move to the 'pen. It's been a long time since I've seen a first-inning call to the bullpen when the score was only 2-0, but there was no other sensible choice possible. The only question I had was whether a move when it was 1-0 would have been better. That sounds incredible, to yank a pitcher who's given up just one run, but that's how precarious things were with Robertson tonight. As it was, Williams stayed with him through that second run before calling on Ricky Stone. I do not fault Williams for waiting even the little that he did. He gave Robertson all the benefit of the doubt he could spare.

As he did on Tuesday, Stone entered the game with the bases loaded. It was a near-impossible jam to escape, but he did a commendable job. Having no command at all on his first four pitches, Stone walked Keith Osik to force in the final run of the inning, and then gained his bearings to strike out Royce Clayton and Wayne Franklin to end the inning. The first could have been much, much worse for Houston, and a comeback even looked possible when Houston put up a run in the bottom half of the first against their former teammate. Morgan Ensberg singled to CF and Jeff Bagwell doubled him home. Frustratingly, the Astros left two on in that half-inning, but those baserunners and the hard-hit balls against Franklin were hopeful signs for the offense with practically all of the game still to be played. But the Astros--all of 'em--collapsed in a horrible second inning. Eleven Brewers came to the plate in that frame, one of the few times in recent memory that I've seen a starting pitcher bat in consecutive innings. The most chilling fact of the sequence, though, was that all the Brewer runs scored with two out. Brady Clark walked; Richie Sexson doubled to RCF to bring him home; Mark Smith ripped a double into the LF corner (the hit that told me the Astros were in real trouble); and Wes Helms was intentionally walked. Kirk Saarloos was the next bullpen man to come in, as the Houston coaching staff was desperate to find someone, anyone, who could throw strikes. But strikes do no good if a team can't field, and from this point on in the inning, the Astros looked like a bad minor-league team. Royce Clayton, jammed on a pitch, nevertheless spun a dribbler tight to the 3B line that Saarloos could neither field cleanly nor throw accurately upon. In a disasterous decision made in an instant, he tried to throw home to Raul Chavez and missed badly. Two runs more came across and it was suddenly 7-1. But the inning wasn't over. Franklin's simple roller up the middle was botched by Everett, yet another clear sign (to me, at any rate) that the Astros were just feeling more pressure than they could handle. That boot was good for a run. Then, the boos cascaded down from the 37,000 in the park when Jeff Kent clanked a ball that, yes, he should have played. Bill Worrell said the ball ate Kent up. I disagree. It was hit hard, but it was a makeable play, and Kent didn't make it. The third error of the inning was good for Milwaukee's ninth run of the night. It wasn't until Bill Hall grounded into a fielder's choice at 2B that the nightmare on defense was finally over.

Houston did battle back in this game. In fact, I found it savagely unkind on the part of the powers that be that on a night when the Astros finally kicked Wayne Franklin around like the mediocre pitcher that he is, the ballclub could get no one out on the other side. A Chavez triple, an Everett walk, a Mitch Meluskey pinch-double to LF, and a Biggio base hit to RCF scored three runs, but as exciting as that rally was, Morgan Ensberg broke my heart. In an at-bat that I thought was the key moment in the entire game for Houston, Ensberg had runners at the corners and a 3-1 count from Franklin, who was struggling with his control. The Astros were seconds away from having the bases loaded with nobody out and the middle of the order coming up, yet Ensberg chose to swing on 3-1 and grounded into the first of two crushing double plays he hit into Friday. The game was still so early, and the Houston rally so vigorous, that no one could call the game over, but God in heaven, I'd have given anything if Ensberg had taken a walk in that spot, anything.

When the Astros cut the lead to 9-5 in the third on a Kent triple to RF (well-judged and run by Kent) and a sacrifice fly by Hidalgo, who was playing bravely on after damaging his left shoulder on a try for a catch in the second inning, I actually thought Houston would come back and win this one, I really did. But both the law of averages and long experience in watching the Astros told me to expect a lull in the middle innings, and that's what we got. Dave Burba came in to replace Franklin, and although he gave up four hits over 2.1 innings, he struck out three, was much sharper with his control than Franklin, and was on the hill in the bottom of the fourth when Ensberg wiped out Biggio, who had reached on Royce Clayton's inning-opening error, at 2B with his second double play grounder of the game.

The Astros were also, alas, forced to pinch-hit for their best reliever of the night, Jared Fernandez, which didn't help the cause at all. Rick White took over in the fourth and was clocked in the fifth by a Richie Sexson bomb to LCF. When Sexson went deep again, this time against Kirk Bullinger with Bill Hall aboard in the seventh, I asked myself the logical, if too late, question: why are the Astros even pitchin' to this guy? Somehow, Houston must find a way to work around Sexson in the final two games of the season, even if it means walking him with men already on, a la Barry Bonds. Sexson's second homer, to LF, made the score 12-5 and took out whatever fight remained in the Astros, who went quietly for the rest of the game.

If Astroday seems a bit short on analysis tonight, that is because the time in the season grows short. There are no trends to look at, no future hot streaks to hope for. There are only two days of gut-wrenching baseball to watch; perhaps as few as eighteen innings, and only those days, and those innings, matter. The Astros' total line tonight--12 runs, 12 hits, 2 homers, 8 walks, 3 errors--was as horrific as one could imagine, and--to disagree with Bill Worrell once more--I am not certain at all that Houston can put this game quickly aside before turning to Saturday's contest. Coming into the series wih the Brewers, I was more concerned about the quality of Ron Villone's pitching than I was Robertson's. We can only hope that Villone will somehow find a way to give Houston a steady five or six innings on Saturday. The Cubs, for their part, will be taxed by both unseasonably cool (and possibly rainy) weather and by eighteen hard innings against the Pirates, so keep your hopes up for additional help from Pittsburgh at Wrigley.

The temptation for all of us right now is to indulge in post-mortem critiques of the Astros' season; and, indeed, hard words are unavoidable tonight, as poorly as the Astros played. But, though my heart is sinking, even with Chicago holding a scant half-game lead, sinking perhaps as much as anybody's heart is sinking around here, I know and you know the season isn't over yet. It might be over in terms of the NL Central race by, say, 6:00 Saturday night, but it just as easily might go into Sunday or Monday. With all the patience and strength I possess, I will continue to keep a good thought for the Astros. I will not say the race is over until it is over. Given the startling victory for the Reds on Thursday and the equally-startling win for the Brewers Friday, it's hard not to believe there might be one twist left in the plot of this 162-chapter story.