***NOTE: a rare diversion from movies
“Finally.” That word is being used in most every report on the 2023 World Series championship of the Texas Rangers. Oxford offers a definition of the word as ‘after a long time, typically involving difficulty’. My question is, what constitutes a long time and who found this difficult? Jose LeClerc is the only player who has been on the team for the past 7 years. Most on the roster have only worn “Rangers” on their jersey for one of two years, so that doesn’t seem to qualify as a long time. Of course, the real answers to my questions are … since 1972 and the fans.
As sports fans we understand that the score of a game or a trophy held high matters little when compared to the suffering of those in Ukraine and other areas where innocent citizens are being mercilessly attacked, injured, and killed. But to argue that sports don’t matter would be an oversimplification and, well, incorrect. Just ask those fans who have loyally followed the Texas Rangers since 1972. There is a bond that forms around a hometown team. It’s a bond of shared emotions, both high and low. Over those 50+ seasons for the Rangers fans, the lows have been plenty, while the highs have been all too brief. Until now. Has it been a long time? Yes. Has it been difficult? Yes.
Since 1972, I have attended many games, crossing the three Arlington ballparks (assuming that first one actually qualifies as a ballpark) the Rangers have called home. I’ve seen Ted Williams and Billy Martin manage the team. I’ve seen Nolan Ryan throw a no-hitter and Juan Gonzalez hit three dingers in a game. I’ve seen Buddy Bell make gold glove plays at the hot corner and Charlie Hough light a cigarette in the dugout. I’ve watched Benji Gil airborne yet another throw into the stands, and Pudge Rodriguez shoot down many would-be base stealers. I’ve watched as Will Clark delivered a stream of warning track fly balls, and Adrian Beltre barehanded another dribbler from third base. I’ve also seen Michael Young rip countless line drives in the gap, Rusty Greer hustling to turn a single into a double, and Josh Hamilton destroy so many baseballs (and his career). I’ve watched Neftali Feliz buckle A-Rod’s knees with a curve and cringed as Nelson Cruz leapt to no avail at a David Freese fly ball in the World Series. And while all of those games and moments are important, what really matters to me is that bond with other fans.
I’ve shared the stands – some good seats, some not so great – with so many over the years. My uncle took me to the David Clyde game and made sure I had many other game tickets through the years (he was a big fan of Buddy Bell and Toby Harrah and Charlie Hough, and because of that, so was I). I’ve sat in the left field bleachers with parents and players from the youth baseball team I coached as the blazing Texas summer sun beat down and sapped the grown-ups of energy (our players didn’t seem to mind). I’ve dragged my beloved wife to a few games, and she never once complained. I have a good friend who was gracious enough to front me tickets during times when money was a bit tight. We even managed to attend multiple playoff games over the years – one being very special, as that’s where I first met my future daughter-in-law, one of those surprises only a son can deliver. Other games have allowed time with friends (even a future boycotter), family, co-workers, and business associates. It’s the shared experiences that matter most.
As I reflected on the World Series victory and the many years of Rangers baseball, a sense of melancholy hit. My brother-in-law passed away earlier this year. He was a huge Rangers fan. Our relationship wouldn’t be considered close, but the two best conversations we ever had were about Rangers baseball. He loved the game and he loved the team. It was a love he had previously shared with his father and many others since. Although he didn’t live long enough to ‘finally’ enjoy the championship, he certainly followed the team for a long time and experienced the difficulty. A passion for the Rangers and for baseball was also shared with many others who have since moved away. Friends and fellow Rangers fans now populate other places like California, Florida, Virginia, Wisconsin, and then there is my own son, who now lives in The Netherlands with his family – including that same daughter-in-law I met at a playoff game.
As for “finally”, these are just a fraction of the folks who have experienced both a long time and difficulty. Yet there is nothing final about this, as the banner will fly indefinitely at the latest ballpark (one with a roof and air conditioning), and the Texas Rangers fans will begin the next long and difficult journey when Spring Training rolls around in 2024.
Movie Reviews from the Dark 
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Maybe a little OT but back around the summer of 1964 my father and I attended a minor league game at Turnpike Stadium. The Dallas/Fort Worth minor league team was the Spurs, IIRC.