|
Even
with this year's emotionally jarring MLB season featuring widespread
fan misbehavior, COVID-19 postponements, and a game suspension caused
by a shooting in Washington, D.C., it's generally accepted (as stated
by Jimmy Dugan in the film "A League of Their Own") that "There's
no crying in baseball." Well, apparently, Tom Hanks has never been
a fan of the hapless, heartbreaking Texas Rangers. The Rangers are
currently having one of their worst seasons ever, and that's saying
something.
In fact, the only time I've ever "almost" wept over a sporting event
(other than that time I accidentally put on my athletic cup backwards
in junior high football) was in game six of the 2011 World Series
when the Rangers lost to St. Louis after coming within one strike
of winning the whole box of puppies — twice. I was so distraught
that I could barely bring myself to watch them go down in ultimate
defeat in game seven, wishing I had chosen, instead, to witness
something less tragic — like a double feature of "Old Yeller"
and "Titanic."
And here they are again, stumbling through the 2021 season like
President Joe Biden trying to navigate a spiral staircase on roller
skates. But that didn't stop me from joining my family on a recent
trip to Arlington,
Texas, to watch the perennially putrid Rangers suffer in brand-new
Globe Life Field, which, from the outside, looks like a giant mobile
home under construction.
Fortunately, we were gifted with some tickets in a luxury suite
with its own private restroom, which makes nine innings of slaughter
a bit more tolerable. The suite included a buffet of hamburgers,
hot dogs, nachos, sodas, popcorn, candy, peanuts, ice cream and
all the other reasons we needed a private restroom.
Once the initial novelty wore off (after about two pitches) and
I had devoured every edible item in the suite, my youngest teenage
daughter grew bored and began accusing me of causing climate change
by throwing peanut shells on the floor of the seating area. She
then challenged me in a mixed-martial-arts tickle fight. Did I mention
we had a private restroom?
My middle daughter insisted on spending the bulk of the game exploring
the stadium's concession areas on a quest for sushi. Yes, that's
right, sushi — at a baseball game. And, to my disbelief, she
found some — for only about the price of an official Texas
Rangers jersey signed by Nolan Ryan and stained with the blood of
Robin Ventura. Naturally, I tried some of this elusive ballpark
cuisine. Did I mention we had a private restroom?
Watching the Rangers flail around on the field brought back memories
of my own ignominious experience with America's pastime in little
league. Although my longsuffering dad tried his best to help me
hold the bat correctly, keep my eye on the ball, and stop gnawing
on my glove in the outfield, I never could accept that being an
effective baseball player required occasional running-and practice
doing something other than visiting the concession stand.
Still, though, I did enjoy our family trips to the old Arlington
Stadium to watch the Rangers lose in the 1970's. I remember the
faint aroma of cigarette smoke mingled with cotton candy, popcorn,
and all the ballpark delights to distract a kid from whatever the
score was at the time. At one game, Mom and Dad even bought me a
little stuffed Texas Rangers doll that I named "Billy Martin" after
the volatile and often hilarious Rangers manager at the time. These
days, I only get out my Billy Martin doll when the Rangers make
a rare, ill-fated playoff run (or during scary thunderstorms.)
Yes, the Texas Rangers are having an embarrassing season —
again. Yes, they have resorted to slinging second-rate sushi at
their stadium. And I still haven't forgiven them for kinda sorta
making me cry when they lost the World Series. But they do have
their moments, and I can't help rooting (secretly) for the team
I loved as a kid, especially when I can go to a game and have my
own private restroom.
|
HOME
