OUEngineer
500+ Posts
It's no secret the endearing love and support I feel for my Texas Rangers. I've been a fan my entire life, now spanning more than three decades. Most of this time has seen the Red, White and Blue finish at or near the bottom of the standings, both under the old divisional alignment, as well as the one currently adopted.
I remember sitting at Old Arlington, in the heat of a 100-degree August day, only to watch Donny Baseball crush my spirits with one smooth motion of his picture-perfect swing.
I remember sitting stunned, as a box of cookies landed squarely in my lap, thrown about 40 feet by a vendor who could've been mistaken for Nolan, himself. I didn't even have to extend my shaky, crippled hands to snag the goodies. They just appeared, as the sections around us went nuts with uproarious applause.
I remember watching as Ruben Sierra captured my imagination with his almost effortless grace, in both right field and at the plate.
I remember forcing my mom to sit outside of a sports memorabilia shop for 2 hours waiting on Mike Stanley to appear. I WAS THE ONLY PERSON IN LINE. Ol' Mike probably thought I was nuts (or that my mom was), but I was not going to let our catcher down that July afternoon.
I remember bursting into tears when Oddibe McDowell hit for the cycle in 1985. I remember screaming at the television for him to "Run harder!" for the triple. My mom told me to calm down. I told her to calm down.
I remember being sent to my room, but not until he got that cycle.
I remember T.A.G as a GM and broadcaster, but not as a player.
I remember wringing my hands of T.A.G as he continually traded our young pitching talent to other teams.
I remember thinking Steve Buechele's blonde mullet might be what put us over-the-top.
I remember trying to figure out how Petey O'Brien could have such a funny swing, yet be such a great contact hitter.
I remember feeling sorry for Geno Petralli that he had to catch Charlie Hough every outing.
I remember thinking Pete Incaviglia was kind of fat.
I remember thinking Jose Guzman was going to be the Great Latin Hope that would lead us into the promised land.
I remember when Jamie Moyer was considered a 'power pitcher.'
I remember thinking this Palmeiro guy looked kind of scrawny.
I remember chuckling about that 15 years later.
I remember being awe-inspired at Juando.
I remember feeling downright giddy when we got a Bash Brother, only to watch a ball bounce off his noggin for a homerun in Cleveland.
I remember being in the crowd as a young Puertorriqueno with a Russian name get married at home plate inside a rinky-dink Tulsa ballpark.
I remember watching that same newlywed become the greatest backstop in the history of the game.
I remember thinking Kevin Reimer was going to be a left-handed Pete Incaviglia.
I remember thinking Reimer was like Inky in body type only
I remember Nolan lassoing Robin Ventura, who showed neither brain nor fear as he charged the mound on The Express.
I remember welling up w/tears when we won our first division title in '96 and welling up again when we were rode hard in a series clinching defeat the following week.
I remember the Doctor of Defense making every routine play and come up with clutch hit after clutch hit as we drove to another divisional title in '97.
I remember feeling apathy as we were succinctly swept by the Damn Yankees.
I remember marveling at the six-to-midnight curveball that Aaron Sele would lob up to the plate, seemingly a grapefruit to opposing hitters, only to watch them waive and miss.
I remember Rick Helling seemed like he was an ace in the making.
I remember when Darren Oliver was a promising starter.
I remember Tom Hicks, despite my better judgment.
I remember Doug Melvin.
I remember John Hart, barely.
I remember thinking this Michael Young looked like a nice utility infielder.
I remember thinking Ruben Mateo was like the other Ruben.
I remember laughing at that thought 3 years later.
I remember thinking Chan Ho Park was the answer and not the question.
I remember thinking Alex Rodriguez was a nice guy AND a great ballplayer.
I remember liking the Millwood signing, before forgetting how brittle Millwood was.
I remember thinking JonBoy looked like he should be buying a tuxedo for prom, not running my ballclub.
After one year on the job, I remember wondering if JonBoy would say yes if I asked him out to the prom.
I remember constant amazement at Josh Hamilton in 2008.
I remember a near-death experience during the Home Run Derby at Yankee Stadium.
I remember being slightly skeptical of Ron Washington.
I remember my jaw hitting the floor when Ron was found to have tested positive for cocaine.
I remember admiring Ron's sincerity and forthrightness in accepting responsibility while offering up his resignation.
I remember admiring Nolan and JonBoy for giving Ron another chance when every rational person had reason to do the opposite.
I remember buying a ring for JonBoy when Cliff Lee was announced as a Ranger.
I remember watching Bengie Molina make like Oddibe McDowell in Beantown.
I remember CJ Wilson becoming a near-dominant lefty in the rotation.
I remember in awe as we saw 103 on the gun in the 9th inning in Oakland.
I remember Jorge Cantu getting his only 2 RBI as a Ranger to clinch the division.
I remember beating Mariano Rivera ... twice.
I remember staring blankly in amazement during every Cliff Lee postseason start.
I remember Ginger-Ale flowing like the Rhine, as our team showed their true brotherhood.
I remember watching Yankee Stadium empty out like a Super Bowl church service.
I remember ... a lot. And I never wanna forget.
Treasure. Every. Moment.
We may not see another year like this again.
I remember sitting at Old Arlington, in the heat of a 100-degree August day, only to watch Donny Baseball crush my spirits with one smooth motion of his picture-perfect swing.
I remember sitting stunned, as a box of cookies landed squarely in my lap, thrown about 40 feet by a vendor who could've been mistaken for Nolan, himself. I didn't even have to extend my shaky, crippled hands to snag the goodies. They just appeared, as the sections around us went nuts with uproarious applause.
I remember watching as Ruben Sierra captured my imagination with his almost effortless grace, in both right field and at the plate.
I remember forcing my mom to sit outside of a sports memorabilia shop for 2 hours waiting on Mike Stanley to appear. I WAS THE ONLY PERSON IN LINE. Ol' Mike probably thought I was nuts (or that my mom was), but I was not going to let our catcher down that July afternoon.
I remember bursting into tears when Oddibe McDowell hit for the cycle in 1985. I remember screaming at the television for him to "Run harder!" for the triple. My mom told me to calm down. I told her to calm down.
I remember being sent to my room, but not until he got that cycle.
I remember T.A.G as a GM and broadcaster, but not as a player.
I remember wringing my hands of T.A.G as he continually traded our young pitching talent to other teams.
I remember thinking Steve Buechele's blonde mullet might be what put us over-the-top.
I remember trying to figure out how Petey O'Brien could have such a funny swing, yet be such a great contact hitter.
I remember feeling sorry for Geno Petralli that he had to catch Charlie Hough every outing.
I remember thinking Pete Incaviglia was kind of fat.
I remember thinking Jose Guzman was going to be the Great Latin Hope that would lead us into the promised land.
I remember when Jamie Moyer was considered a 'power pitcher.'
I remember thinking this Palmeiro guy looked kind of scrawny.
I remember chuckling about that 15 years later.
I remember being awe-inspired at Juando.
I remember feeling downright giddy when we got a Bash Brother, only to watch a ball bounce off his noggin for a homerun in Cleveland.
I remember being in the crowd as a young Puertorriqueno with a Russian name get married at home plate inside a rinky-dink Tulsa ballpark.
I remember watching that same newlywed become the greatest backstop in the history of the game.
I remember thinking Kevin Reimer was going to be a left-handed Pete Incaviglia.
I remember thinking Reimer was like Inky in body type only
I remember Nolan lassoing Robin Ventura, who showed neither brain nor fear as he charged the mound on The Express.
I remember welling up w/tears when we won our first division title in '96 and welling up again when we were rode hard in a series clinching defeat the following week.
I remember the Doctor of Defense making every routine play and come up with clutch hit after clutch hit as we drove to another divisional title in '97.
I remember feeling apathy as we were succinctly swept by the Damn Yankees.
I remember marveling at the six-to-midnight curveball that Aaron Sele would lob up to the plate, seemingly a grapefruit to opposing hitters, only to watch them waive and miss.
I remember Rick Helling seemed like he was an ace in the making.
I remember when Darren Oliver was a promising starter.
I remember Tom Hicks, despite my better judgment.
I remember Doug Melvin.
I remember John Hart, barely.
I remember thinking this Michael Young looked like a nice utility infielder.
I remember thinking Ruben Mateo was like the other Ruben.
I remember laughing at that thought 3 years later.
I remember thinking Chan Ho Park was the answer and not the question.
I remember thinking Alex Rodriguez was a nice guy AND a great ballplayer.
I remember liking the Millwood signing, before forgetting how brittle Millwood was.
I remember thinking JonBoy looked like he should be buying a tuxedo for prom, not running my ballclub.
After one year on the job, I remember wondering if JonBoy would say yes if I asked him out to the prom.
I remember constant amazement at Josh Hamilton in 2008.
I remember a near-death experience during the Home Run Derby at Yankee Stadium.
I remember being slightly skeptical of Ron Washington.
I remember my jaw hitting the floor when Ron was found to have tested positive for cocaine.
I remember admiring Ron's sincerity and forthrightness in accepting responsibility while offering up his resignation.
I remember admiring Nolan and JonBoy for giving Ron another chance when every rational person had reason to do the opposite.
I remember buying a ring for JonBoy when Cliff Lee was announced as a Ranger.
I remember watching Bengie Molina make like Oddibe McDowell in Beantown.
I remember CJ Wilson becoming a near-dominant lefty in the rotation.
I remember in awe as we saw 103 on the gun in the 9th inning in Oakland.
I remember Jorge Cantu getting his only 2 RBI as a Ranger to clinch the division.
I remember beating Mariano Rivera ... twice.
I remember staring blankly in amazement during every Cliff Lee postseason start.
I remember Ginger-Ale flowing like the Rhine, as our team showed their true brotherhood.
I remember watching Yankee Stadium empty out like a Super Bowl church service.
I remember ... a lot. And I never wanna forget.
Treasure. Every. Moment.
We may not see another year like this again.
