Farewell, The Rangers Ballpark in Arlington with Ameriquest Field Inside Globe Life Park.
The Rangers became a big-boy Major League Baseball outfit here. They hosted an All-Star Game and Wild Card Games and two World Series here. They won five division titles and two American League pennants and came within one strike – twice – of becoming champions here.
Globe Life Park hosts its final Rangers game Sunday afternoon. After 25 years, it’s being put out to pasture to be, of all things, the new, reconfigured home of Bob Stoops’ XFL team. Replaced by the retractable-roof, air-conditioned, fake-grass, $1.2 billion joint across the street cruelly called Globe Life … Field.
Imagine my girlfriend leaving me for a younger, richer guy named Ricky. Ouch.
The park gave us Pudge Rodriguez, Kenny Rogers’ perfect game, Adrian Beltre’s 3,000th hit and milestone homers by Rafael Palmeiro (500) and Sammy Sosa (600). But since the day it was christened in 1994 by Van Cliburn’s piano, it’s been as much about being, as baseball.
Between Globe Life Park’s first and last game, I’ve gone through my 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s, two ex-wives, seven addresses and more media jobs than I have fingers. The venerable venue’s wins and losses may blend together, but the memories – my memories – remain indelible.
• The jet stream out to the home-run porch and TGIFriday’s in right … the old-school, out-of-town scoreboard in left … Nolan’s statue, Greene’s Hill and those mad mosh-pit scrambles for homers in center.
• I watched the first game at GLP – then simply The Ballpark in Arlington – on the balcony of Troy Aikman’s business office in left-center field. The Rangers played an exhibition against the Mets, but the park was the star of the show. “Now this,” Aikman told me that day, “is how baseball should be.” Amen.
• The details that led to it are – thank you, Coors Light – fuzzy, but at a late-season game in 1997 my three buddies and I were bombarded by crickets. One friend, Roy, decided he’d had enough. Next time a critter landed on his shoulder, he calmly grabbed it and, sure enough, popped it in his mouth. As he attempted to wash it down with a swig of beer, he suddenly spit everything out and exclaimed, “that sonuvabeetch bit me!” Couldn’t tell you if the Rangers won. Or who they even played. But every time we get together, ultimately we get around to “Remember that night at the Rangers game when Roy … ” To this day, he’s simply known as “Cricket.”
• It was a cold, gray afternoon in January 2007 when I met Ron Washington. A columnist for the Dallas Observer at the time, I was at the park for a meet-’n-greet with the Rangers’ new manager. I was not in a baseball mood. But I’ll be damned if his infectious enthusiasm didn’t breathe a refreshingly warm gust of baseball into my frozen heart. I left there thinking, “If this guy can’t get the Rangers excited, no one can.”
• In 2008 I had the privilege of putting together the Rangers’ all-time team. Not me, mind you, but rather two of the franchise’s iconic experts: Chuck Morgan and Eric Nadel. I spent the day at the park, in the clubhouse and press box, reminiscing and getting them to agree on an all-time team by position. It was one of those experiences I’d pay to have had.
• In 1998 the Rangers allowed fans – and dorky sportswriters for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram – to enter a home-run hitting contest. My buddies and I entered and, though I played high-school baseball, have never felt so feeble and hapless. Our wager was for the guy who sent the most balls – out of 10 pitches – into the outfield, on the fly or otherwise. I knew I was in trouble when I squared around to bunt and whiffed on both of my “warm-up” pitches from a machine bringing it only 86 mph. A couple of misses here. A foul there. A few Baltimore chops. And one – one! – can-of-corn fly ball to shallow left. It was wholly embarrassing. It was altogether awesome.
• Kenny Rogers’ perfect game was on July 28, 1994. I know this because I was at Cowboys training camp at St. Edward’s University in Austin and every player was huddled around the TV in the cafeteria, vociferously rooting for history. As Rusty Greer made his diving catch to preserve perfection, I found myself high-fiving Bill Bates and receivers coach Robert Ford . . . over baseball.
• Michael Young stood at his locker, left to explain another exasperating loss or inexplicable front office gaffe. There is no particular date attached to this vignette, because it seemingly happened every day for 10 years. He was a great spokesman for some horrible teams.
• Dad raised me on baseball. Took me to see the old Dallas-Fort Worth Spurs in Turnpike Stadium and the first game in Rangers history in 1972 at Arlington Stadium. He coached my Little League teams and was always up for a simple game of “catch” in the backyard. Through the years, I’ve tried to pay him back with as many tickets as I could muster to Wednesday “Dollar Dog” nights. But our best moment at The Ballpark was Opening Day, 2011. It was April Fool’s Day, but this was no joke. Like he loved to do, we arrived early and were one of the few folks through the gates. We watched both batting practices and each team take infield. The flyover. The bunting. The anthem. The food. The hope. It was glorious. And it didn’t hurt that the Rangers, behind homers by Ian Kinsler, Nelson Cruz and Mike Napoli, clobbered the BoSox, 9-5.
• In 2001, I slept in the park. Not just in the park, on the field. In shallow right, to be exact, where these days Rougned Odor plays during a dramatic shift. As part of the Rangers’ “sleepover” event, I took my 4-year-old stepson, Jake, a blanket and our wide eyes and spent the night on the field. We ran the bases, played catch, ate popcorn, drank soda and fell asleep – finally, around 2 a.m. – watching Field of Dreams on the right-field video screen. Still have a cherished photo of him crouching over home plate and playing in the dirt, just being a kid. Caption: Jake makes sure to clean his plate.
• I was in Las Vegas on the horrifying July night in 2011 when 39-year-old dad and Brownwood firefighter Shannon Stone reached for a ball tossed into the stands by Josh Hamilton, lost his balance and fell over the left-field wall to his death. When I got back to Texas, I surveyed the scene and did some sensitive digging. Turns out Stone, a lifelong fan, was trying to catch the ball for his son, just like his father did for him off Buddy Bell’s bat in 1983. The statue near the park’s home-plate entrance was always – to me, at least – a somber, strange reminder of the worst night in the park’s history.
• Best baseball memory is obvious: Neftali Feliz striking out A-Rod – looking – to clinch Game 6 of the 2010 ALCS and send the Rangers to the World Series for the first time in franchise history. I was in the left-field stands, high-fiving strangers and pinching myself. Through the confetti I saw the surreal message on the center field scoreboard, “Hello, World Series!”
Farewell, old friend.
