The Summit called, and it's not sure Toyota Center fans deserve a championship

The Toyota Center crowd needs to step up. Tim Warner/Getty Images

Fans of the Upper Bowl and those who would die to even get that close, disregard this message. It's not for you. Although, you may want to stick around and second the emotion. 

"This place is rockin'!" -- When's the last time you heard a broadcaster paint such a glowing picture of Toyota Center? Go turn on Game 5 of the '94 series against the Jazz [] and ask yourself when was the last time the privileged few of the 100 Sections participated in something that could pass for that kind of pandemonium? Sure, there have been isolated incidents, momentary pockets of pride. Sadly that's about as good as it gets because the crowd at Polk and La Branch has grown a reputation for only one thing and it ain't passionate support.

I was once lucky enough to exist inside one of those aforementioned pockets: The 2004 Western Conference Quarterfinals. Rockets v Super Lakers, Game 3. The only playoff game of any sort that I've ever attended... My friends and I were so proud to be a part of the Friday night crowd that told Kobe and everyone watching at home that, "No means no." We arrived to our 400 Section seats before they even turned on music in the arena. One friend ate an entire meal with only a soy sauce packet for a utensil because he'd forgot to grab a proper one and was unwilling to miss any of the action. This is what life up top looks like. It's up there that we ran into one of The Summit's salty old veterans. This was an old man decked out in all of the glory day gear, who came with his back-to-back newspapers and his old school arena signs. His wife's face, even prior to tip off, wore an apology for the unbridled Rocket fire that would soon emanate directly from the depths of her husband's soul. That man was a human air horn all night. We shook his hand after the game.

Later that weekend, the Rockets lost a Sunday afternoon Game 4 but the home crowd showed Steve Francis so much love that in one particularly climactic moment he pulled his jersey to the side to show them they had this heart... There was Tracy's thirteen in thirty-three. The twenty-two game win streak. Headband of Brothers. Sure, we've had our collective moments together, times it was easy to forget that most often the crowd we let national television audiences see is an outright embarrassment.

Unfortunately those few proud moments are what our boy, Big Data would call statistical outliers. They've got nothing on those crowds at The Summit. Those crowds didn't need a demonic robot piped through the public address system to tell them it was time to call for defense. They didn't need anyone to tell them to stand up and cheer their hearts out for some of the greatest to ever grace the game. Those fans had no guarantees. They didn't know we could win it all until we did, and then they didn't know if it could ever be that good again. Yet they all made The Summit -- they all made Houston, a place that opposing teams dreaded.

When the Astros won their title, they did it on the backs of the fans down at Minute Maid. The opposition was admittedly intimidated by their deafening noise. They may not always represent during the regular season, but when the bright lights of the post season warm up, everyone down at the Juice Box takes their seat and they aren't afraid to stand on top of it either. Hell, even the notoriously tardy tailgaters of NRG know what to do during the playoffs.

The other day, a few hours before the Rockets would ultimately close out the quarterfinals and about thirty minutes before I was supposed to be at work, I got a call offering me a free ticket to the game. Much to my dismay, I was unable to receive the night off or find someone to take my place. If not for desperately needing the couple days income I'd have to miss out on to replace that job, you folks probably would've heard my loud ass on the telecast. These were openly described nose-bleed seats and a job I very clearly needed to retain, and yet I still almost quit so I could attend. Imagine my ensuing horror as I would go on to steal glimpses of tumbleweeds blowing through the first-half stands for all the world to see. I'm out here making difficult life decisions not to be there, meanwhile there were hundreds of people lucky enough to have the privilege and they're nowhere to be found? Let's figure this out. Where are these people and how can we get them into their seats?

There's a theory floating around out there that blames the Lower Bowl's leadership vacuum on corporate season ticket holders. Another blames an irrational fear of downtown. Let's just skip the agoraphobia and address the corporate sellout theory. First of all, what exactly does an attachment to a corporate entity mean in regard to one's ability to support a generationally talented team? It doesn't matter anyway because companies proudly doing business in Houston shouldn't be willing to participate in making it look so bad. Giving your tickets away? Fine, but you have an obligation to see that tickets as important as these are used properly.

We've got the Billionaire Buyer sitting courtside and this isn't the first year he's been down there setting an example for the rest of the city's financially phlegmatic. I commend his fandom. But Fertita and a Ferris wheel full of Red Rowdies can't fix this issue by example alone. This requires hard choices and bold innovation.

Let's bust up these corporations, I mean this corporate theory -- right now. There's no big mystery. It doesn't matter how their tickets were obtained, these people are inevitably out in one of the many swanky lounges or bars ringing the concourse and they're getting lit. Absolutely smashed. Houston, we have an alcohol problem. Accept it and adapt to it. Either eliminate the lounges or go to the elaborately ridiculous lengths of creating a stand-in system for their patrons. This is where we are now. Next season, I vote for the lounges to be replaced with ticketed-seat restaurants. I think the new owner knows a guy who knows a guy with a food connect... I mean, if anyone could revolutionize the way fans receive alcohol at their seat, it's our boy Tilman. In the meantime, shutter the lounges during the game and beef up the roving beer vendor rotation.

The only other culprit we can realistically blame is entitlement. Like these "fans" just don't have it in them to show their support... I lost my voice cheering for an encore at a concert the other night. For one song, from a band that should go on to play it many times, for many years. These Rockets are literally the rarest team the sport has ever seen from an offensive standpoint -- There are two all-out legends running arguably the greatest backcourt of all-time and a burgeoning superstar in his own right in Clint Capela. Not to mention hometown hero, Gerald "Sagemont" Green or the pack of junkyard dogs we've got in Luc, Tuck, and Trev. I'm forgetting the lightning in a bottle that is reigning Sixth Man of The Year, Eric Gordon and a coach who has legitimately revolutionized the game itself. You're telling me there are people in this city who are unimpressed with that? And we're allowing them to represent us? Now? With everything on the line? It's inexcusable.

Maybe it's the organization's fault for failing to better incorporate your chemical dependency into their game presentation. Hey, I love a good chemical. I get it.

Maybe it's James Harden's fault for accessorizing so well that all of you treat him as your own personal accessory -- to be picked up or put down at your Instagram leisure.

Maybe it's Chris Paul's fault for throwing so many ball fakes, you didn't think the game had really started.

Or maybe, just maybe, all this rests on your shoulders.

This is H-Town, where I'm not sure if you've heard, but we Hold It Down. This is a city where men and women who've walked in space walk our streets. This is the city they call when the best minds on Earth are needed to solve a problem. Y'all, we don't even have to bother them with this one. This is easy.

Space City, stand up! Show this team the adoration and respect they deserve. Get loud and represent all of us to the best of your ability. We are a city of the future. You have to decide if we face a future rife with spoiled indifference -- Or is it a future that rewards and even sustains excellence? You, the social elite of the Lower Bowl. You movers, you shakers. You trendsetters. You decide. Tonight at 7.

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Houston dropped two of three

Astros drop series finale to Oakland, A's win series

Jose Urquidy couldn't hold Oakland back on Saturday. Photo by Hannah Foslien/Getty Images

With Oakland finally ending their drought against the Astros on Friday night to split the first two games of the series, and with the Angels staying in step with them as both teams started the day 6-2, the Astros needed a win to keep momentum in their favor on Saturday.

Instead, Oakland would outslug Houston once again to take the series finale and take the series win. The loss moves Houston to 6-3 and down to second place, at least for now, until the 6-2 Angels complete their game on Saturday evening.

Final Score: A's 7, Astros 3

Astros' Record: 6-3, second in AL West

Winning Pitcher: Frankie Montas (1-1)

Losing Pitcher: Jose Urquidy (0-1)

Urquidy gives up four over six

Much like the night before, Oakland was able to bring in runs against Houston's starter, this time Jose Urquidy, Saturday afternoon in their second time through the order. Their first time through, Urquidy was cruising, allowing just one baserunner in the first three innings on a single in the top of the third.

Things shifted in the top of the fourth, with the A's getting back-to-back singles to set the stage for a two-run frame with dual RBI-singles to take a 2-0 lead. Oakland doubled that in the fifth, getting a two-out single to set up a two-run homer by Ramon Laureano to make it 4-0. Urquidy would go on to finish six innings, but with no run support to that point, would leave in line for the loss. His final line: 6.0 IP, 7 H, 4 R, 4 ER, 0 BB, 7 K, 93 P.

A's pad their lead before Houston gets on the board

Meanwhile, although getting five hits, the Astros could not get anything on the board against Frankie Montas through six innings. Brandon Bielak took over out of the bullpen for Urquidy in the top of the seventh, but after loading the bases, he would allow a dagger two-RBI single to make it a 6-0 deficit for Houston.

With Montas starting the seventh looking to face a batter or two before Oakland moved to their bullpen, Kyle Tucker would finally get Houston on the board with a leadoff solo home run, cutting the lead to 6-1 and ending Montas' day. Houston would get a two-out rally going, with an RBI-double by Jose Altuve followed by an RBI-triple by Michael Brantley to make it a three-run game at 6-3.

Oakland takes the series win

Ryne Stanek tried to keep it a three-run game and give the Astros a chance to stay in it in the top of the eighth but instead would give up a two-out solo home run to push Oakland's lead back to four. That 7-3 score would go final as Houston would go scoreless in the eighth and ninth.

Up Next: Houston will have a day off on Sunday before continuing this homestand Monday night by welcoming in Detroit and former manager A.J. Hinch for three games. In the series opener, the Tigers will send young star Casey Mize (0-0, 2.25 ERA) to the mound, while the Astros will get another start by Zack Greinke (1-0, 1.38 ERA).

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