Here We Go Again

Ladies and gentleman, your Texas Rangers are doing it again.

It seemed like yesterday when our Rangers faced off against Tampa Bay in the ALDS. Even more recent the image of James Shields throwing the "Antlers" sign after a Game 3 Tampa win in Arlington.

And just like that, here we go again.

These Rangers are coming in hot (9-1 in their last 10 games), and their bats are blazing. It's hard to figure out how to approach the Texas lineup in a crucial situation... Walk Hamilton, pitch to Beltre? Or walk both, pitch to Cruz? Or even worse right now, pitch to Napoli who's crushing the ball?

It doesn't seem like it's possible for the good 'ol boys from Texas to lose.

But I warn the trusty fans from Arlington, be weary. Last year, we rode into the world series on our trusty steeds that consisted of Cliff Lee's shoulder, yardstick home run memories and highlight reel diving catches, only to have them dashed in a few games.

It was a good run while it lasted, but this year is different. This year, the Texas Rangers know the length of the road ahead. They know how to successfully maneuver the hazard filled waters of the MLB October schedule.

This year, they're ready.

It all starts in the ALDS against a nasty pitching rotation and a brilliant manager in Joe Madden. Madden would win a ring every year if he was given the quality players and payroll that Boston or New York has, and the fact that he LOSES franchise players every year and still competes with the two still is absolutely amazing to me.

NOTE: THAT WILL BE THE LAST COMPLIMENT I PAY IN FAVOR OF MADDEN UNTIL AFTER THE SEASON.

He's not good enough though. The September run was epic, but it's going to take a miracle for the Rangers not to get past the ALDS series again this year.

In fact, it will be a miracle to get the Rangers to 5 games in the ALDS, but you can believe what you want.

MY PREDICTION: Rangers in 4. They win the first, win the second with Derek Holland throwing a gem, lose third, win fourth in front of that incredible Tampa fan base.


How do the Rangers pull this off? It's easy... Leadership. It starts at the top, just as any great group does. Nolan Ryan and Jon Daniels have set a winning tradition in Texas, and it doesn't look to be ending any time soon.

Break out the blue and red, HERE WE GO AGAIN!

Watching Football Through A Window

There I stood, a few hundred feet above the screaming fans, the cheerleaders, and the 'Orange Nation.'

"LET'S GET BOONE PICKENS STADIUM ROCKIN', IT'S TIME FOR BIG 12 FOOTBALL!"

I looked around, and suddenly had an epiphany -- I might be the luckiest person alive.

"ORANGE..... POWER..... ORANGE..... POWER...."

I was on the roof of Boone Picken's stadium as the crowd anxiously awaited the blacked-out Cowboys to rush the field and take on the Arizona Wildcats, and I was awestruck at how amazing the view was.

"YOU TELL 'EM I'M COMING, AND HELL'S COMING WITH ME!"

The gate flew open, the fog poured out and the Cowboy football team charged through the entrance to the blacked out tunnel. A chill rushed through me almost as fast as the players ran, and adrenaline started pumping through my veins.

But there was only one problem. Instead of wearing a black and orange uniform, a helmet and the coolest pair of cleats I could find, I was wearing a blue polo, slacks and a pair of black dress shoes my dad gave me during my freshman year of high school.

It hit me for the first time in almost two years... My glory days are over.

Maybe I should have realized it late Tuesday night when I played in my first intramural football game, a one sided contest that we were on the losing end of.

Maybe I should have realized it when i woke up on Wednesday and could barely move because I was so sore. I'm getting old.

Or maybe I should have realized it the second I walked off the field in December of 2009 after getting my tail handed to me by Waco Reicher for the second consecutive year in the State Semifinals.

I had plenty of opportunities between then and now to have that epiphany, but I just ignored it. I still workout four to six times a week, doing the exact same lifts and drills I used to do back in my playing days. I still eat the same, still act the same. I'm the same person, just missing the outlet of football.

Not a day goes by when I think about trying to walk on or play at a smaller school, but Thursday night was almost like a rehab center for fallen stars. A rehab for the confident two-time All-District player who never developed a work ethic, and never got where he wanted -- On the playing field below.

As the players took the field, I took what has now become my own field. A leather chair in the corner of the stadium.

My new field has ice-cold air conditioning that pumps through the press box, free food before the game and at half time, and free soft drinks and water whenever I want them.

Last night I realized that I'd probably never play real football again. But it was a slow process.

I watched the whole game from my chair, almost awestruck at what I was realizing. It wasn't too close of a game, and I wasn't too worried about it coming in. I was a spectator for most of it.

About halfway through the fourth quarter, I moved down to field level, and stood on the walk way between Gallagher-Iba (the basketball arena) and the field. I got to see the Orange Nation in all their glory as they let Arizona's eardrums have it during the last few minutes of the game.

As soon as the final buzzer sounded, I walked down through the tunnel with the rest of the media, and walked across the field.

It felt weird. I was walking across the field that had just been on national television for three and a half hours, and that Heisman candidates like Justin Blackmon, Brandon Weeden, and Nick Foles had all just played on. I didn't feel like I belonged.

Then I got to experience what I always loved in high school... The fans.

As the football team put their arms around each other and faced the 20,000 screaming students in their section to sing the Alma Mater, I walked behind them towards the tunnel they had screamed out of hours before as I watched from the roof.

I looked up into the stands and saw a bunch of my friends and they all waved and screamed. I smiled and waved back, like I had done something to be down there. I was just a kid who had lucked out and been hired by a newspaper, no better than them.

We went under the stadium and set up for post-game press conferences.

After, we walked back across the field. This time, there were no screaming fans. There was no band playing, and even though I wish there had been, not even a cheerleader.

A quick turnaround from a stadium that was full not 45 minutes prior, but I suddenly felt like it was right. I felt like the stadium was finally ready for me to walk across the field, like it was saying "Here's your fan base now, don't go deaf with all their screaming."

The screaming was more like an echo that bounced off of the empy bleachers as I talked to Tony, my editor.

I wrote my game recap for the paper, packed up my things, and walked back across campus to my dorm.

As I walked, I tried to cope with the truth I had just discovered; My football playing days were over, but my football days were just beginning.

I played and enjoyed, and as I walked, someof my most vivid memories from senior night flashed through my head. The night when it seemed like the whole world stopped for me. The night when me and my brothers I had played with for so long became celebrities for a few hours. The night when I had "Family First" written on my eye black as a reminder to everyone around me who I was playing for.

My incredible Mom who has raised myself and my awesome brother and sister. My Dad, who has always been my best friend and has always been there to pick me up when I've fallen down. My Grandparents who have always looked after me when I needed it, and have always shown me the fun side of life even if they were struggling. My friends, who are the best a guy could ever have and always keep me in line.

Even though that stadium was empty, I could feel all of those people looking at me, cheering me on as if it were Senior Night all over again. As if I had full pads on and was throwing my body around like a human wrecking ball.

But I was in a blue polo, slacks, and old dress shoes, and I was on my new field. My leather chair.

Life changes in many ways, but certain parts of it don't. Just because I'm not playing anymore doesn't mean I'm not playing, it just took me awhile to realize my new role on the team.