Patron Saint of Baseball

There were two things my Daddy taught me as soon as I learned to walk: how to fish, and how to play baseball. Yeah, believe it or not, Daddy wanted to have a little girl. 

I've loved baseball for as long as I can remember, and it was largely because of Dad. He worked all day long, but he was never too tired to play catch with me or be the pitcher and let me hit. After I destroyed a chair with a crazy hard-hit ball, I felt like a super human. Then Dad hit the ball and busted out our neighbors window. Dad was always way more BA than me. 

Baseball wasn't the only thing Dad and I shared, but it held a special place in our hearts. We played all sorts of sports together. We collected things (Beenie-Babies, Hotwheels, baseball cards, rocks, even foreign currency as I got older) and we shared the same taste in music. Dad was an amazing guitar player and when I was 16, he started teaching me. It was awesome the first time my Dad listened to some of my music. He liked Three Days Grace's "Animal I Have Become" the best because he said the guitar went hard.  He played by ear, so he taught himself the main guitar riff! But there was something about baseball that brought me and him together in  a way that nothing else did. 

Baseball made Dad and I a team. We rooted for the same players, loved and hated the same teams, and screamed (and yeah, sometimes cussed) when our teams did crappy. No matter what though, no matter how badly they sucked, The Texas Rangers were always our #1! Dad started taking me to games when I was probably in the third or fourth grade. Back then, Juan Gonzalez was my man! I wanted to be an outfielder, just like him. And man, that man could swing a bat! One time Dad took me to a game and we sat right behind him (he played left field) and we ended up sitting next to some of Juan's friends from Puerto Rico. I didn't believe them till one of the guys called out to Juan and when he looked back, the guy started pointing at me. Juan smiled at me and waved, and said something back to the guy in Spanish. I got invited to stay after the game to go meet him! Unfortunately, it was a school night, so Dad didn't let me stay. Dad later said that he totally regretted not letting me stay, but I still look back on that day has an amazing day. 

When Dad got sick, baseball became something he found shelter in. He was sick for a whole season and the Rangers kinda sucked it up, but Dad watched them faithfully (maybe more so) as he'd always done, and cussed the Yankees just as much. Dad got better and he and my Uncle planned a trip to go to the baseball Hall of Fame, but then cancer came back with a vengeance...Dad never made that trip. Baseball season had just gotten into the full swing of things when Dad finally lost his battle with lung cancer. A month before he died, he was watching the Rangers kick some major butt and he looked at me, shook his head, and said (I'm quoting here, so excuse the language), "I'll be damned. Watch, I'm gonna die and the Rangers are gonna go to the damn World Series." Well, go to the World Series they did, and I'll be dad-gummed if they didn't go again!!!! 

I haven't watched a game of baseball since Dad died. I don't know if I would turn down a chance to watch the Rangers in the World Series, but I'm not sure I would go either. That was our thing, something special between me and my Dad and I'm not sure I'd be able to watch it without him. My Uncle Bob went to see them last year and bought a seat for my Dad, so in a way he had the best seat in the house. I'm not sure how much God gets involved in professional sports, but I do know that if God allowed such things, Dad would totally be down with being the angel in the outfield. Patrol Saint of Baseball! Err, not that my Dad was a Saint or anything, he was too goofy for that, but you know what I mean. 

So, come on Rangers!  Bring it home this time, for people like my Dad who were always faithful fans. I know winning the World Series, to most, wouldn't be considered much of a miracle, but to people like me and my Daddy, it's the next best thing. 

Alison