Greatest sports memory (Part 1)

So I'm finally back at home after a month on the road.  I spent a week in Orlando (not as fun as you think...I was working.  But I did get up every  morning and see happy families going off to amusement parks...so there was that.)  Then I spent a week cruising in Alaska (so much more fun than you would expect it to be.)  Then I was at home for a few days before jetting off to Dallas (again, more business)  On the upside, my hotel is next to the Ballpark in Arlington.  On the downside, the Rangers were playing against the Yankees in NY so the ballpark was unoccupied.  On the upside, the Rangers took two out of three games (take that Evil Empire).

So why do I bring up all this travel?  Well, many things have happened while I've been gone, and I could go on oh so eloquently about any of them.  Let's see what we've got:

1. Johnny Manziel and his parking ticket 
2. Aaron Hernandez and his murder....sorry...alleged murder
3. NBA finals
4. Heat victory parade where the team almost got wiped out by an overpass  (Hilarious since no one was actually harmed)  Link here  

But you know what.  There's not much I can add to the discussion of any of these topics.  They've all been analyzed to the umpteenth degree.  So instead, I've decided to tell you a bit about one of my greatest sports memories.

As I've said before, I really didn't become a sports fanatic until I got to college.  Of course, I didn't mind going to sporting events as a child.  So naturally, I divide my sports watching experience into the pre-college era and post college era (which my wife would call the Dark Times).  So here is my greatest memory from the pre-college era.

As a kid, I grew up in Dallas with my brother and my parents.  This was back when most families had two parents...or maybe I was just sheltered enough to believe that.  It was a happier time, when no one was worried about global warming or terrorists...just communists and nuclear winter.  Our family wasn't rich, but we certainly weren't poor.  No one in the house was a huge sports fan, with the possible exception of my Mom who would shriek like a banshee when the Cowboys scored.  Those two things combined to mean we didn't go to many sporting events.  So, the memories I do have our all quite precious to me.  My favorite memory is actually a combination of several that have become so jumbled in my head over the years, there is no way to sort them out.

The company my Dad worked for at the time had 4 seasons tickets to the Texas Rangers at the old stadium (torn down long ago.)  These seats were not just good, they were amazing.  They were on the third base line first row.  Not only were they third base line 1st row, but we could literally rest our food and drinks on the opposing team's dugout.  I don't say feet, because my legs were much too short at the time.

Once a summer, sometimes more if we were lucky, my Dad would get the tickets (most often a weekday).  Sometimes it was a surprise (at least to me) and other times it was planned.  We would all trek over to the ballpark, which was almost an hour from the house.  Me and my brother would try not to kill each other, lest we have some treat taken away from us at the game.  I still remember the anticipation and excitement that would start building as soon as we got into the car and would keep building until we got to the ballpark.

To a young kid, the ballpark was enormous.  As an adult, stadiums are still huge, but there is something about being a child that adds so much more wonder.  Going up to the stadium, my parents probably told me a hundred times to slow down, and I would...for about 10 seconds.  We always got to the game early so we could watch batting practice followed by the grounds crew prepping the field.  Players would wave and sometimes roll us their warm up balls before the game started.  (After the game, my parents would write who rolled it to us, the team, and the date on the ball .  I used to have all of them in my room...I hope my parents saved them, but I'm afraid I told them to get rid of them when I was a callous college student.)  We would make sure to have a hot dog and soda before the game began.  We didn't want to miss a second of the action waiting in line.  Then my parents would try to keep the two of us entertained until the game started.

Once the games started everything was a blur of balls, strikes, hits, and home runs.  I marveled at the the fan traditions. (Possibly this is what drew me to A&M later in life)  The crowd would boo every time for Steve  Beuchele (Pronounced BooShell...see where we were going with that?)  Everytime Pete Incaviglia would come to bat, we would all look at each other and ask if Inky was going to be Stinky.  (Incaviglia had a propensity for either striking out or hitting a home run)  I saw Nolan Ryan pitch.  I saw my Mom get hit by a Kirby Puckett foul ball.  (Talk about a bruise, but I bet we got on tv that night).  My dad would always get fries or nachos in the 4th or 5th inning for us all to share. And of course, no night was complete without ice cream in the mini helmet.  We watched the Rangers lose, and we watched them win.  We saw fireworks when they hit home runs, and sometimes even after the games.  I may have even fallen asleep at some of them.

Looking back now, I don't care about the plays, the results of the games, or even the incredible seats.  I'm just thankful I was able to experience those games with my parents and brother.  I know it must have been tough on my parents when they had to get up and go to work, or work out of the house the next morning.  (And chances are we had a lot more fun at the games as most of their time was spent watching us and making food runs)  I created a lot of great memories there, which have all combined into one great mash up of baseball, food, and family.  One day, I hope to create memories like these with my son.

God Bless America and God Bless Baseball

I'll leave you with this (Click for link):

-A Sports Fanatic