|Don't be fooled by the adorable smile. That kid has horns. |
And he bites too.
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.
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.