This game was like a fight to the death between two lions. One, the old King of the Pride, the other the young stud challenger.
For most of this game, the old man of the jungle appeared tired; the young upstart was ripping him apart.
But the old man had fought many battles. He had triumphed time and time again under more dire circumstances than this. Just when the young lion appeared to have the old man by the throat, the king turned the tables and finished off yet another upstart just when all seemed lost.
Frankly, until the end of this game, the Astros looked terrible tonight, like they deserved to be the victims of regicide.