It's been a long, long time since baseball was a cheap date, as Astros fans can tell you. Even before you start spending crazy money on food and beer at a game, buying a pair of seats hugging the foul pole will set you back almost $75. But there are ways around the madness -- very cheap ways, in fact. One of the cheapest is Coca-Cola Double Play Tuesday. It involves drinking a 32-ounce Powerade, but greatness requires sacrifice. Take the neck ring from the bottle to the box office, and you'll get two outfield deck seats for a buck each. Sure, the seats are in the upper reaches of the stadium, but here's the thing: Minute Maid Park is exceptionally open to improving your vantage point. If you prefer to be legal, get there early and take a standing-room spot by the Crawford Boxes. If you're more daring, wait three innings and move on down to field level. Then look natural, find an empty seat, and no one will stop you. As for eating and drinking cheaply during the game, you're on your own.
If you want flash in hockey, you look for a speeding, preening wingman. If you want solid dependability, you look for a defenseman. And on the Houston Aeros, you look for Curtis Murphy. Murphy, who returned to Houston this season after a year of competing in Russia, seemingly never misses a game. And the 30-year-old has proved his worth by playing on three different minor-league championship teams and for NCAA winner North Dakota. He had his best scoring year this season and was named to the American Hockey League All-Star team for the third time. He's a Saskatchewan native who loves Houston and has created Murphy's Mission, a program that benefits the "I Have a Dream" Foundation. So what if he isn't flashy?
Face it: Being a hockey fan in Houston can be tough. Mention the Rangers to someone, and they think you're talking baseball. Give a Texans fan five chances to spell Jaromir Jagr, and he'll still be tossing Y's at you on his fifth try. But there's plenty of upside: The Aeros play entertaining hockey at a high skill level, the tickets aren't that expensive, and you get to watch them at the Toyota Center, with its great sight lines and easy access to beer. Best of all, you're with 5,000 fellow hockey nuts who revel in their cultishness without all the defensive, wounded elitism of soccer fans. Aeros fans dress up and cheer loud, they know their hockey, and they know how to have fun. You don't have to join the Tailgunners, the official booster club, but if you do, you'll get to participate in charity events and get-togethers. NHL hockey, if it ever comes, will never be this cheap, intimate and loose.
Millie Bush Dog Park, named for the spaniel that roamed the White House under George and Babs, isn't just the best dog park in Houston. According to the editors of Dog Fancy Magazine, it's the No. 1 bark park in the USA. We haven't scoped out the country's other 700 dog parks, so we'll just have to take their word for it. But it's an assertion that's easy to believe, considering the amenities: a 15-acre spread with three gently sloping ponds, a red gravel track, fake fire hydrants, showers and drinking fountains. There's even a separate section for little fellas, where they can sniff, sprint and swim without fear of being bullied by the big dogs. Welcome to doggie heaven.
Though Houston is nothing like Chicago in terms of wind, the occasional gusts coming in off the Gulf can make flying a kite here an exhilarating experience -- especially at Rice University. In addition to the great view of the neighboring Medical Center, the beautiful campus has many wide-open grassy fields with no overhead wires or obstructions to fry your fun. If you ever get the itch to experiment as Ben Franklin did, there's always a thunderstorm -- not to mention a hurricane -- brewing on the horizon. Let your string out.
As fans are painfully aware, the 2005-2006 Houston Rockets season went from hopeful to hateful, from "Just Do It" to "Just Kill Us." Free agents Derek Anderson and Stromile Swift were a bust and a disappointment, respectively. Tracy McGrady, despite putting forth a stalwart effort, succumbed to back spasms and had to cash in early on in the season. The bags under fatigued coach Jeff Van Gundy's eyes evolved into full-fledged suitcases. And yet, all the while, Yao Ming stood tall (well, really damn tall) as the team's literal and figurative center. The guy whom detractors called soft averaged 22.3 points per game and in one game pulled down 21 rebounds. As his teammates struggled to find their shots, Yao hit his consistently. His never-complain (not even when tortured by a painful growth on his toe), always-deliver attitude was nothing short of heroic on a team with too few heroes. Yao has silenced critics, won new fans and established himself as a major baller and a giant among men.
An NFL coach's hair says a lot about him. Does he sport a pretty-boy tousled look, such as Tampa Bay's John Gruden (a reflection of youthful flashiness)? How about a NASCAR-crew mullet, la Tennessee's Jeff Fisher, reminding everyone that a good ol' boy can survive despite a 4-12 season? Examining the grooming habits of first-year Houston Texans coach Gary Kubiak, one finds a meticulous attention to detail and a sense of efficiency and precision. Ah, but there's a little flair, by way of gelled-up spikiness, too. Does his hairstyle -- precise, methodical and stylish -- point to what we can expect from his high-powered offense of complex zone blocking schemes, laser-precise passing routes and a little hotdogging via wide receivers and running backs? Time will tell, but we're guessing this is one coach who won't be pulling his hair out this season.
Unless you were trapped under a large rock for the past eight months, you know that the Houston Texans have shaken things up a bit. Gone are oft-maligned GM Charley Casserly and oft-confused head coach Dom Capers. And though the changes appear to be for the better, the transition hasn't been without controversy. There was the whole picking-Mario Williams-over-Reggie Bush thing, which caused a near riot at Reliant Stadium on draft day. And owner Bob McNair enlisted the help of "consultant" Dan Reeves, essentially asking him to check Casserly's work. Yet fans have never turned on McNair, who has stood behind his new coach, his new No. 1 pick and his new direction. So commanding is his presence, detractors use words like "ownership" and "management" -- but never "Bob McNair." A class act, McNair has shown fans that he wants to win now, and that he will aggressively burn through time, money and personnel to do it.
The phrase "family-friendly course" is enough to send avid male golfers running. Last we checked, most guys hit the links to escape the pressures of work and family. But here's hoping the adult members of The Clubs of Kingwood see the business sense of buying into the club's golf program for kids. Savvy parents can nurture their own blossoming Tiger Woodses at the sprawling country club/courses in Kingwood. No need to tire out the tykes on the green: The program offers four-seater family golf cars. Kiddos can shoot on a nine-hole course, designed specifically for younger players (no sand traps or water hazards). Even the score cards -- colorful and cutesy -- are kid-friendly. We figure this is the place where smart parents can raise their own golf phenoms, watch 'em get rich off endorsements, retire off their earnings and spend their golden days on the course.
For a true baseball fan, it's not just the image of the triple play or the stolen base that makes it memorable; it's also the sound of the announcer's voice. For 21 years, Milo Hamilton has led fans through the Houston Astros' regular-season bumbles and postseason heroics with his velvet timbre. Who can forget last year's 18-inning, NLDS Game Four against the Atlanta Braves, when Chris Burke nailed the game-winning home run? Nothing could encapsulate the moment like Hamilton's "Iiiiiit's gone! Iiiit's gone! It's gone, Chris Burke! Holy Toledo, what a way to finish!" And somehow it didn't sink in that the 'Stros were headed for it all until Hamilton announced "Your Houston Astros are going to the World Series!" With the team changing and Hamilton scaling back his duties, we might never again hear such a call. So we'll say it now: Holy Toledo, Milo, we love you, man.

Best Of Houston®

Best Of