Friday, July 6, 2012

So this happened.

Don't be fooled by the adorable smile. That kid has horns.
And he bites too.
Best 3rd of July EVER. Special K put the feelers out for tickets to the Rangers-v-White Sox in Chicago and needless to say, the kid came through in spades. Spades. Not only did we get to go to the game with one of Special K's most fun friends and his super fun fiance, but we also sat 4 rows - four rows - behind the Rangers's dugout. Pause for effect.

The Rangers started the series that night with the best record in all of baseball but despite best efforts from their few-but-mighty fans, they got absofuckinglutely slaughtered. Former pitching great Roy Oswalt made his third start with the Rangers and gave up 7 runs by the end of the 2nd inning. After 11 runs Tateyama replaced Oswalt in the 5th and the shit continued to hit the fan. But you know what? I didn't care because by then, the fans standing between me and the dug out started to thin so yours truly headed to the front row. I was right freaking here:
Not shown, Special K holding my ankles to keep me from throwing
 myself onto the back of Yu Darvish. Or Gentry. Or whoever.
I forced our crew to suffer through the bottom of the 8th as I refused to leave my front row perch. That was at least enough time to witness 2 whole Rangers runs and only then did I feel OK to leave. We came close to getting a ball a couple of times but thanks to that angelic, evil little 9 year old munchkin pictured above, we were denied repeatedly. That kid was actually sitting 3 rows behind us and over away from the dugout but every time the Rangers came in from the outfield, that kid would appear out of thin air, right smack between me and my team. My section 124 besties started to refer to him as 'Ranger Jesus'. He'd grin enthusiastically, call the players by name, and hold up his glove for them to toss him a ball.  Hook, line and sinker. He ended up with 2 t-shirts and 2 balls that I know of and really one of those balls was mine daggum. Special K held up his hand to catch it and there's still debate as to whether or not I actually knocked his arm to make him drop it. I won't believe it until I see the replay. But still, ball dropped, hit the ground at my feet, I went for it, it dropped even further under the seat in front of me, I dropped to grab it but  a skinny little hand came out of nowhere and snatched it only centimeters from my grasp. It was him, that little shit. He smirked at me with an expression that said 'suck it old lady' and off he went, triumphant. I'm fairly certain that he's not really a Texas fan. I've decided that he goes to all the games and sits near the dugout of the visiting team. His dad dresses him in whatever visiting team garb he can, and then sits back and lets the little leprechaun work his magic, raking in the balls and t-shirts, getting signatures on everything. What a racket.

With 2 outs in the bottom of the 6th, Ranger Jesus slinked down to the seat in front of me, ready to pounce. At the encouragement of my section 124 besties (and to the mortification of Special K), I attempted to call the kid out. It went something like this:

Me: (tap, tap on his shoulder) Dude. Is this your seat?
Ranger Jesus: (turning around wide-eyed) Who me?
Me: Yeah. Let me see your ticket. I'm pretty sure you should be sitting back there.
Ranger Jesus: What's your job?
Me: What? (so confused, I almost said I work at a museum, why? But I didn't.)
Ranger Jesus: What's your job? You work here?
Me: (looking down at my own Rangers t-shirt, so confused) Uhhh no,why?
Ranger Jesus: Then why you asking me for a ticket? 

Ouch. That suck it old lady smirk was back and there were plenty of witnesses to my schooling by a 9 year old. Despite the 100+ temperatures, Ranger Jesus, and a 19-2 loss, it really was the best time