Before all that, the team was known as the Houston Colt .45s, a name that is so objectively better than Astros I don’t even know how to continue living in this world. The name evokes a strong, American image of violence, bloodshed, bullets and pistols—and also malt liquor (combine it all together if you fancy yourself more than a nebbish coward). Their logo and uniforms and especially baseball caps were also straight wonderful. But alas, time ruins all things. The Astros came along and just barfed all over the place. There were sunburst stripes and uniform numbers on pants and all sorts of ridiculous tomfoolery that further cements the notion that the 80′s were just literally the worst decade in the history of modern civilization. Sure, now, from the vantage of the present, these uniforms present a certain kitschy charm, a vague nostalgia worth Instagraming, but the Halloween costume novelty of the cocaine era gave way to bland conformity in the 90′s. There were some neutrals, and a big star, and then some red and some stripes and here we are, ready for reinvention yet again.