Love letter to the ballpark

Allow me to start off by saying that yes, I fully realize there have been approximately 10,000 memoirs and tributes and recollections and top 10 lists of favorite moments written at this point with about another 10,000 to be composed before the final game is played there this Sunday.

I am one of those who wrote one. And you know what? Here's one more.

To begin this love letter to the ballpark, let's go back to 1993. 

I was there for the last game ever in Arlington Stadium. Which was also the final game ever for Nolan Ryan. Which was also, also the final game ever for George Brett. 

The Rangers, at that point were pretty bad. At least they had offense. Pudge, Juan, Raffy, Jose Canseco. A very homer happy but also strikeout and error prone Dean Palmer anchoring the hot corner. The pitching staff was okay-ish as I remember, but Nolan had very much entered the twilight of his career at this point and had I think his worst season ever. 

The final game ever at Arlington Stadium was a sad one for me. I won't wax poetic here: Yes, the old stadium was a dump. But it was a dump that had endearing charms about it. That stadium in all its metal bleacher glory resembled more of a wok sizzling the souls of those fans hearty enough to endure the summer time heat, but it was the place where I gained my baseball consciousness. All that to be said, I was also thrilled beyond comprehension to have this new ballpark on the way. 

And then in April 1994, my Dad and I walked into the new ballpark for the first time to watch the Rangers play the Mets in an exhibition game. And man, I was in absolute awe. We parked in what is currently Lot L, where you walk through a little wooded area and over a bridge across a tiny creek to get to where you need to go. Once you got through that clearing, there right across the street stood this grand brick facade of one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.

That initial reaction I had seems to be one shared by many: How could the Rangers have built this? We, historically, were a terrible baseball team. We never won anything. And yet, here they are with this new grandiose tribute to the great game. This Temple (hat tip again, Mike Rhyner). 

Was this even real? And new uniforms too? How was this even possible? 

I wasn't there for that first Opening Day (I was at school, with a Walkman and a tiny pair of headphones that I tried to be so inconspicuous with), but every time we went during that first season was a holiday to me. Back then there was no scoreboard watching in my baseball brain, no concern over what the other teams in the division were doing. To just be there watching a game was a privilege, and the greatest night in the world.

It was always fun during those early years to scoot down as close as you could to the action behind home plate and watch the final inning or two of a game. Back then there were no ushers to chase you out of those seats. You were free to kick back in row 1 and watch with your feet up without a care in the world.

I also wasn't there the night of Kenny Rogers' perfect game, instead I was at home with both the radio and TV going so I could have visual evidence of the historical proceedings on the field to match the play by play of the great Mark Holtz on the radio. And I wasn't there for many of the playoff games during those exciting, albeit brief times in 1996, 1998, and 1999 (they usually got in the way of the Greek Food Festival, if I remember correctly.) But I was there for at least one game during that first ALDS series, and what a momentous time this was to witness these same little old Rangers finally playing some real honest to God playoff games. I couldn't get over it again. How was this possible?

My father had season tickets through his company. Because of school, we went to games usually on weekends. But once those tickets went away I convinced him to go 50/50 (or maybe it was 70/30 but lets be honest it was probably 100/0) with me on getting some season tickets of my own in centerfield, right up next to Greene's Hill. Those were, and still are, beautiful seats. Slightly altered over the years, the wide landscape and the panorama you get of the beautiful baseball landscape laid out before you has always been one of my favorite things.

It's also where, at a random game in 2006 that also happened to be on my birthday, on a 2-2 pitch from Rangers starter John Wasdin, the following happened:

Of course leave it to me to parlay that moment of semi-greatness into meeting my wife, and we did, right here underneath the home run porch.

And three years later, on an unforgettable evening in late March, we celebrated saying our "I Do's" in the Diamond Club.

I guess that's just one piece of many making me sad about leaving this place. Most people have the ability to go back and revisit certain locations where momentous occasions in their lives have occurred. Some maybe a little bit easier than others. And there's nothing to say this won't be accessible to us but as a football stadium? Really? It will be a hard pill to swallow for me.

And before you try and tell me "you'll make new memories in the new ballpark", yes, I know. We will. But right now, I'm more wrapped up in how much I'm going to miss this place. This place where we've seen our summer family grow exponentially over the years. From all our friends at Valet East. To all the ushers we've become close with. And especially Fred. We still miss him everyday.

I'm going to miss how it felt in 2010 and 2011. And the random fans around you that you'd find yourself cheering with during those playoff runs. And coming home from every one of those postseason games with such scratchy sports voice from cheering at the top of my lungs.

I'm going to miss how LOUD that place got after A-Rod stuck out in 2010. And how no one wanted to leave after the last out of the World Series that year. I've never felt so uplifted after a loss. No one wanted to leave the ballpark that night. And the noise that reverberated through that place when Mike Napoli ripped a double into the gap in Game 5 of the World Series one year later.

You could say that World Series, much like the life of this ballpark, should have ended so, so differently.

I'll miss the memories we've made there with three children. All of which went to their first game within the first couple of months or so of their lives.

And I'll think about how it felt, walking into that ballpark for the first time and every time after. With my wife. With my children. With my Dad and Grandfather. 

And how good it felt, each time

to be home.

To our little caboose

For 25 years, beginning long before we ever knew each other your Mom and I have called this place our summer home. We've laughed here, we've cried here, we've lost our voices yelling like maniacs here. We've high-fived and celebrated with strangers we didn't know.

Your oldest sister has been coming here for six years. Your youngest sister four. But you have only been able to call this place home for two years. Two quick, short years. And frankly that makes us pretty dang sad. Yes we'll soon have a new ballpark to make a whole slew of new memories in, but it'll be a strange feeling.

So tonight, for the first, and last time ever, we had father/son night at the Ballpark. The Temple, as Mike Rhyner so affectionately calls it.

(I'm going to miss that view at dusk on evenings like tonight, by the way.)

We watched approximately three at-bats tonight in actual seats. That was about it. (The top and bottom of the first inning lasted like 17 hours anyway.) And really, I was okay with it. The rest of the time, we wandered the ballpark, taking in everything soon to be gone at the end of this week. And the evening became filled with a lot of this:

And this: 

And warning you to be careful. And telling you not to climb on things. And cringing as you ran too far ahead of me getting dangerously close to stairs. You know, normal things for a two year old.

And like the article Evan Grant wrote earlier this week, the ballpark really is just a building. Sure it's one that many, many people have a million emotional ties to but in the end its just a building made out of brick and steel. And I have to tell you, Jack: Sadly, you won't remember any of these moments inside this big beautiful ballpark made out of brick and steel that you've experienced for the last two years.

But we'll always have these pictures from tonight.

(Most of them of the back of your head because you're running away from me)

And many others that your Mom has taken of you and your sisters. And we'll talk about all the fun we've had in this big beautiful ballpark made out of brick and steel.

And I'll be so, so glad to have all these memories. 

Solo parenting

I got into a discussion with a guy friend recently about the subject of solo parenting. I'm speaking from a guy point of view here.

Just to clarify this is not solo parenting because you are not currently involved with someone, etc. This is the kind of solo parenting where your schedule and your wife's schedule make it so that you're forced to be on your own more than just a couple hours a week.

In our case, Mel's schedule is such that it gives her the flexibility to make her own hours as she deems fit. But it also means that yours truly has to take the reins and commandeer the ship most of the day on Saturday or Sunday and at least one evening a week depending on what all else is going on. But we make it work.

I know that in many cases, men struggle with this. I mean by this point there's got to be about a million studies full of all sorts of science and crap that all point to hey look, genius, you're a man and you suck at solo parenting. Women are and always will be the best at this. The tiny humans who now live with you once lived inside her for 9 months, so OF COURSE she's going to be the true G.O.A.T at this.

So for the male population, here are a few tips to make your solo parenting experience a better, less lay curled up in a ball on the floor in a puddle of your own tears sort of one.

Let's start with a basic one.

- Establish a routine: This is something you should really start off doing pretty much from the moment you get home from the hospital anyway. Some parents don't, and that's okay. I'm not here to judge. But when you have a routine of waking up, going down for nap, when to make a bottle etc it makes the day so much easier for everyone involved. This is especially true when you have multiple children at home and many ages to consider. Call it a guide to plan out your day. Which kind of sveltely segues into the next talking point...

- Don't be afraid to get out and do stuff: Look, I'm not saying it'll never be rough. Chances are, it will be. As well as awful. And downright chaotic. But the only way you're going to get better at this is if you actually take your clan and go do stuff with them. Don't forget about the first thing we just talked about and mind the clock if you have to, so that way you're back home in enough time to get everybody down for a nap. Best of all, the better you get at this the more comfortable you're going to feel with stretching things out a little more and maybe spending a little longer somewhere than you normally would.

To piggyback onto this one, don't just resort to movies and Netflix all day. Instead, use getting to watch a movie or a few Paw Patrols or something as a reward to yourself and your kids from a good excursion out running errands at Home Depot or something. That way you get a little downtime out of it.

I know, I know, it's going to suck not being at home watching College Gameday on Saturday mornings. I've been there. Set it to record and watch it all later. And tell your buddies to leave you alone, you've got some solo parenting to do.

- Always be preparin': Bring that backpack with you when you go out. Load it up with essentials. You'll want plenty of snacks, water cups, maybe have a bottle ready, wipes and diapers if you need them, maybe a change of underwear and pants if you have a child who's in the middle of potty training. You never know when you'll be in a bind.

And kind of on that same note, also plan on having your kids use the potty before you leave to go out somewhere. And if you own a family minivan and have enough room, portable toilet seats are beneficial to keep in there.

- Find something cheap to go do: Going out and doing stuff with your kids doesn't always have to hit you in the wallet. Going to the movies is getting pretty expensive. Taking everyone to a ballgame requires a small loan. But hey, here's a little tip from me to you: Parks are your friend. Or a perennial favorite of ours, is dropping 5 bucks for a ticket to ride the new TexRail train that takes you west to Fort Worth or east to the big airport. The last stop in Fort Worth drops you off across the street from the Water Gardens. Pack a lunch of some snacks, and it's a great way to kill off a morning. And what kid doesn't love running around an airport terminal, huh? It's an airport! With planes! And other stuff! Or just take them to the Founders Plaza next to the runways and watch planes land. Plenty of room to let the little ones run around like maniacs.

And finally,

- Naptime, your BFF: When you get home from doing whatever, and children A, B, and C head off to their room for naps, use that time wisely. Nap also. You could definitely use the mental recharge.

So that's all I have. Nothing too earth shattering but I hope these survival tips help make your solo parenting time more enjoyable and less traumatic.

It's baseball season

If you've perused our fine work here for any period of time, you've probably come to realize one of two basic principles in terms of subject matter you will find on this blog.

1. We truly love talking about our kids. Obviously.

2. We truly love talking about baseball.

And hey, wow, what a great tie-in. Funny, it's like I almost had it planned that way. Because as you may or may not already know this week is Opening Day across major league baseball.

To be perfectly honest I've completely lost track of how many Rangers' Opening Days I've attended. Best estimate is probably somewhere between the range of fifteen and twenty. It didn't slow down when Maddie came along, not with Norah, and now not with Jack (although he will be missing this year's festivities again due to age limit restrictions imposed by Mom and Dad). So yes, one might say it takes a lot for one of us to miss an Opening Day.

If you need further evidence of this, back in 2009 when we were still all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fresh from our honeymoon in Belize and right about 2 weeks into being a married couple, Mel and I watched the Rangers play the Indians in the first game of the season while she was suffering from a massive case of vertigo. I'm pretty sure she puked on the way to the ballpark at least once or twice, and then a couple of times there as well. Were it not for the TLC of our favorite usher Fred, who knows how many more times she would have called up Ralph on the big white telephone that day.

As for my own personal experiences of going to Opening Day, they didn't really ramp up until the current ballpark was built. I was not at the first game of the year in 1994, as I spent the second half of that school day at Harwood Junior High trying to squeeze in as much listening to the game as I could with a tiny walkman and some inconspicuous looking earbuds.

(Note: This was 1994 so there was not such a thing as inconspicuous looking earbuds really.)

But without fail, every year saw that excitement plant a seed and begin to grow through spring training and ultimately reach a crescendo on that one particular spring day at the start of a new season. What began as a kid continues on in adulthood.

I assume it will never go away. I hope it will never go away. And truthfully, if one of the biggest joys you get as a parent is to watch your children grow up and succeed at something in life then I would offer to you another is to be able to share the love of the great game and the beginning of a new season with your kids. To be able to look in their eyes and see that excitement that you know is genuine because for the first time in 6 long months, you get to go the ballpark to watch a baseball game: That's an awesome thing.

So let's not beat around the bush or whatever here: Opening Day 2019 will surely be a little more melancholy than some of the others, and I think you all know why. Corporate greed has won out over fan emotions.....maybe not of all fans, but of many.

Sad, but ultimately true (in my opinion).

But I digress. We'll be there this year. And the year after that, in some strange new ballpark we never wanted to see built in the first place. And the year after that.

And for many years to come.

Because after all.



It's what we do.

Idle time

Where's that soap box? Ah, there it is.

So writing about anything these days, is hard.

There are so many things I'd like to talk about. I probably need to talk about for therapeutic reasons. Heck, I just got done a few weeks ago talking about how writing (or blogging) is good for the soul. Welp.

But the fact of the matter is this: In all of our daily lives where it feels like we solo parent more often than not, it's difficult when you have the opportunity, to not just sit on the couch and detach.

Detach when it's nap time (or some semblance of nap time) for your children. Detach when everybody goes to bed at the end of the night. When all you want to do is flip on a game or your favorite streaming service and get caught up on whatever wets your whistle on Hulu or Netflix, etc.......just detach. I struggle with this I think worse than anybody at times.

But the truth of the matter is, those times of quietness can usually be among the worst.

So here's what I propose you (and I) do to make your down time seem a little less "down".

I contest that it's not a horrible thing to sit down and watch whatever's on television as long as it's in moderation. Hey look, there's some really great stuff on right now. We fly the This Is Us flag proudly in this house. The Good Doctor and A Million Little Things are also big players. We even enjoy the occasional documentary on Netflix.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying them in moderation, as log as you're not punting on your responsibilities you may also have on your plate.

But before you settle in for the night. Before you throw on your favorite, well-worn pair of sweatpants or hoodie that you've worn 11 consecutive days in a row, do one thing constructive with your time.

It can be anything. Go out for a run. Tidy up your closet. (Sup', Marie Kondo). Empty or load the dishwasher. (Or both). Something.

Maybe even read for a bit. An actual book - not on a computer screen or even a Kindle. I think that flipping pages in an actual book provides your brain with some context that scrolling through a longform article on a webpage does not.

After you do that, I promise your down time for the remainder of the evening will seem that much more gratifying. Give it a try.

End soap box.

New year, new blog

What did you do on NYE? Did you go out and celebrate? Were you one of the lucky ones to be out in Times Square? Or did you stay home and watch a Christmas movie with your kids while everyone dined on the finest peanut butter and jelly sandwiches imaginable?

(That's what we did.)

Let's talk resolutions for a moment.

What are some of yours? Lose weight?

Travel more?

Complain less?

Let's be honest, we all have approximately 382 of them and maybe, just maybe we're able to stick with and do a relatively good job of staying true to one of them.

I'll share mine with you right now. It's a pretty simple one.

Sure I have this massive different conglomeration of things I want to do in 2019 just like everybody else. Love my kids more. Be a better husband. But the main resolution I have for 2019 is this:

Write more. It's good for the soul.

So that's what I plan on doing.

Happy new year!