Originally written and posted to Facebook on October 29, 2011
After what can only be described as an exhausting, roller coaster of emotions, going-down- in- history- as- one- of- the- best World Series, the Rangers, MY Rangers, are not the World Champions. After the 27th Ranger out and coinciding eruption of chants and cheers from the St. Louis fans, I turned off the TV, walked to my closet where I traded my Baylor Alumni sweatshirt for my Claw and Antlers Tee, I walked to the side of my bed, and I sat in silent protest to Tom Hanks’ character in “A League of Their Own,” and I cried – over baseball.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m passionate, and I’m a competitor, and I really, REALLY love to win and equally really, REALLY hate to lose, (I know of about ten of you who just read this and laughed, knowing that this is likely a bit of an understatement), but I didn’t cry because my boys didn’t come out victorious; I cried because the season was over.
You see, for me, baseball is more than “just a game,” it’s a part of who I am. I’m a Christian, a wife and a mother, a daughter, a sister, and a friend. I’m extremely patriotic, I’m dedicated to my work, and I have a 28 year long love affair with 40 men who captivate complete control of my late springs and entire summers.
As a little girl I grew up knowing that summer meant three things: no school, tons
of trips to the public swimming pool, and Texas Rangers baseball. I can’t tell you how many games I watched and how my schedule revolved around tuning in to the game I was born to love.
I’m a fourth generation Rangers fan, and in a way, the team out of Arlington has been
more like an extended family than a Major League ball club. I’ve loved them, rain or shine, win or lose,
for as long as I can remember; their victories have been my triumphs- their losses have been my defeats.
Some of my most potent memories of childhood include seeing my parents walk through the door of my aunt and uncle’s home chanting, “Ruben, Ruben. Ruben,” after returning home from a game where the Rookie right fielder had hit a walk-off home run; I remember sitting in the cheap seats of Arlington Stadium eating chocolate ice cream from a miniature plastic blue helmet; I remember a wooden plaque featuring a picture of the last pitch of Nolan Ryan’s final no-hitter that sat on the hutch in our dining room as though we, ourselves, had thrown that final ball (their victories have been my triumphs, remember?).
Most of all, though, I remember my Granddaddy and his love/hate relationship with the Rangers. Billy George loved them when they were “on,” but was quick to give his opinion when things weren’t going well- which history confirms was more often than not. He had suggestions on how they should manage, who they should pitch, and, most importantly, what they should wear (Granddaddy swore by the red jerseys). But through it all, he loved his team. In fact, the last thing he said to my aunt before he died was, “Turn the Rangers on for me, Deb.” His passion was contagious- if not hereditary- and is something he passed down through my father to my brother and me.
Now as an adult, baseball and the Rangers continue to serve an important role in my
life. You see, almost every day in the summer (and if we’re truly lucky, a part of the fall), life slows down and everything that normally matters so much suddenly seems so insignificant. When I’m watching the Rangers, I’m a 10-year-old kid again. I forget that I have bills to pay and groceries to buy. I forget about dishes and laundry. I forget about devastating news and lose track of disappointments. I’m not overwhelmed by obligation or weighed down by worries. When I’m watching the Rangers, I feel a lot less grown-up, and a lot more carefree.
Simplicity-thus is the beauty of baseball. There’s just a bat and a ball, a diamond of dirt, and 40 men who carry the dreams of boys and girls from every corner of the country and every walk of life. This, my friends, is why I love the game.
Some will argue that America’s pastime is “too slow” or “too boring.” But the lulls, the downtime, are exactly the things that lend themselves to allowing the viewer, us fans, to know the players as family and friends. We hear commentary on what the players do in the offseason, things they do and say in the clubhouse, and whose wife is pregnant and when she is due. In this respect, baseball isn’t boring at all – it’s a deeply intimate, personal sport in which some of us spend at least 162 afternoons and evenings with the friends we so desperately miss every winter.
And the Rangers, for me, top it all off by being such a fun, laid-back, dedicated, classy group of guys, who are intense in their preparation and execution, but never forget to enjoy the ride along the way. What a life-lesson that is, huh?
Now that I’m a mom with two beautiful blue-eyed boys of my own, I feel a sense of pride as I pass down the family tradition of following the Rangers- how lucky they are to have moved to Texas in the year that we finally broke the barrier and made it to the playoffs, conquered the opponent in the ALDS, won the AL pennant, and made our way to our first ever World Series. And then, to see our team silence those who thought we were a “fluke” by making it back to the Fall Classic for the second year in a row… priceless.
I could share dozens upon dozens of memories that we as a family have had in the past two seasons, but I’ll simply end by saying this - Thank you.
Thank you to the Rangers who have proven to be such faithful friends. Thank you to the team who has brought so much joy my three-year-old, who is perhaps the biggest fan of all. Thank you for two seasons that have been nothing short of magical, and thank you most of all for knowing how much I have loved you and for finally loving me back.
I’m already looking forward to the 2012 season… Until then, Go Rangers!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1SxJKnqR4s
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