The Joy and Despair of a Pennant Race

There are some people who might think that tonight’s game was the worst loss in Rangers history because of the circumstances.

Wild Card lead on the line. A chance to make a statement against an AL power. A rare chance to gain ground on the Angels.

Certainly, it could be argued that tonight’s game fits that description. If you were to come up to me and attempt to convince me of said description, I probably wouldn’t argue with you. I can’t really think of a worse loss in Rangers history right off the top of my head, especially considering the Rangers have only been relevant in the playoff race once in the last ten years.

Before this year. Before the 2009 season. Before the season that could end up being the turning point of the franchise.

This year is different. But you knew that already. The Rangers entered the game tonight with the second lowest ERA in the American League. A figure that looked for certain to fall until The Meltdown. (Not to be a real naysayer or anything, but listening to Eric Nadel convinced me that we were going to lose that game. His descriptions of Frankie’s pitches were picture-perfect, with precise commentary.)

There are nights like this in a pennant race. Nights where you don’t want to go on. Nights where you want to throw everything that’s not bolted down at the TV. Nights where you wonder why you go through it all.

But you do go on. You don’t throw too many things. And you remember why you go through it all.

You want that feeling you get when your team wins. When your team puts it together and continues to play past anyone else. When they dogpile in the middle of the infield.

Bob Sturm, however, wrote something in his notes from his review of the 2008 Cowboys season, Week 16. (Full link here.)

When you are young, and you love a sports team, you believe the games and the seasons will all have the happy endings of the Disney movies that you watch.   Guess what, son, if you are going to pledge allegiance to a team as it appears you have with the Dallas Cowboys, I want to welcome you to the fellowship of the die-hards.  Understand, that once you do, you are not allowed out of this commitment, and you should also understand that most seasons are going to end in tears.  A favorite team is the only thing a male human feels the same about when he is 5 and when he is 45 and when he is 75.  You will change your mind on everything else.  Girls, money, hobbies.  But, you will always still feel the adrenaline rush of a win, and the gutting sadness of a horrible loss. I didn’t say anything to the boy, as his Dad was handling it (and he might not have welcomed my advice) but I felt for him.  Welcome to sports, young man.  Someday, you may live to see a championship or five, but most years will end with your guts spilling onto the floor.

Sports Sturm is one of my favorite radio personalities anywhere, but this paragraph really stuck with me. Clearly a point that Sturm has thought about for a long time. While his example is the Cowboys, the Rangers work just fine in this example.

The adrenaline rushes and gutting sadnesses are simply magnified in a pennant race. Every game means a little bit more than the last one.

You know what the best part is, though? The Rangers are in it. They are in it and I’ll be damned if they don’t think they can win it.

But each game is only one game. You could be riding high from one game, one inning, one pitch to feeling like you got punched in the stomach the next one.

This was one of those stomach punches. Baseball’s so great, though. Why?

Because you get to see your team come right back the next day.

Go get ‘em Derek.

(Oh, and if Jarrod’s hurt…well, I believe a certain Rodriguez is just a short ride down I-45.)

Francisco pic: From the Dugout