There are Nights When I Think That Sal Paradise was Right

A few years ago, it would probably seem very odd for me to write the following after a 14-2 victory over the "Evil Empire" at Yankee Stadium, but I think I've seen this Rangers season before.

Looking back at all of the spring training conversations that I had with my friends regarding the Rangers' prospects, I feel like a movie producer asserting that Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest was going to be watchable in any manner. Somehow I always manage to deceive myself into statements that look something like this: "Well, I know that Millwood might be past his prime, but I'm sure that everyone else will pick up the slack" or "I really think that all of Gagne's injury problems are water under the bridge."

After reading Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby earlier this year I began to realize something: utter and complete heartbreak is better than a steady feeling of malaise. If someone offered me the opportunity to trade places with a pre-2004 Red Sox fan who is filled with all kinds of angst and disappointment from the Bucky Dents and Aaron Boones of the world, I would respond in the same manner as Lieutenant Sam Weinberg in A Few Good Men, "I would take that deal everyday of the week and twice on Sunday." That is the honest truth.

It's the same thing as romance. Tennyson once told us "'tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all", and that's what I want. It's almost as if it's better to be with that crazy girl who goes out and breaks your heart than to sit there every evening eating Cocoa Puffs in your boxers lamenting the fact that you haven't gone on a date in years. I don't care if the Rangers make it all the way to Game 7 of the ALCS only to rip out the collective heart of their fanbase. That's infinitely better than the disgust I feel when I look at a telecast from Rangers Ballpark in Arlington and see more empty green seats behind home plate than disgruntled fans filling those seats.

Maybe that's why I feel like I'm having an affair with Liverpool. I watch those fans and I see something special. They care. In fact, they probably care a little bit too much. Now, I'm not saying that sports should matter more than a lot of other things in our life, but I cannot help but feel melancholy when I see the fervor with which they support the Reds. I have no doubt in my mind that I will be incredibly happy if Liverpool defeats AC Milan in the Champions League Final on the 23rd, but it will not come anywhere close to the sense of catharsis that I will feel IF the Rangers ever win the World Series.

If someone comes across this post and has no idea who I am, you might be justified in feeling sorry for me. Just look at this poor guy, he is all caught in an ultimately meaningless baseball team when there are so many other monumental things happening in the world. I will grant you that statement as true, and then I will immediately go back to talking about how this has to be our year. Some habits are hard to break.