While at the Ranger game Sunday night with the family, my daughter, son and I took a walk around the ballpark (twice) during the disaster of a finale in a three-game sweep by the Los Angeles Angels. The purpose of our walk was to kill time, find the dollar ice cream kiosk, and see the sights of the Ballpark in Arlington (I refuse to call the stadium by its official name). After taking a photo of the kids standing with the Nolan Ryan statue behind center field, my 7-year-old daughter, Emery, asked who Nolan Ryan was. I explained that he was a great pitcher who ended his career and put up some amazing stats at the end of that career while playing for the Texas Rangers. I also included the footnote that he returned later, but has since left, to work in the front office.
Soon after we came upon some memorabilia for sale and among the bats, balls, and framed photos for sale was the famous fight between Ryan and Robin Ventura, where Ryan has Ventura in a headlock and is pounding away. The framed and autographed item for sale also included a picture of Ryan after the fight with blood smeared on his jersey and dripping from his nose.
Emery, seeing the picture, asked who it was that was bleeding and why. So, being the baseball fan I am and wanting to pass along knowledge of the game and its colorful history, I told her and Jack about the tale of Nolan Ryan's victory over Ventura. It was a fierce campaign that started because of an errant throw. Ventura, offended due to being struck by the projectile, charged our hero on the mound of battle. One would think that youth would prevail, but no, it was wisdom and grit that won the day. Ryan, who had 20 years on Ventura, got him in a submissive hold and delivered a continuous, and seeming endless, number of blows to the head. The hero and villain's allies cleared the benches and 32,000 onlookers delighted in the savagery. It was a good day and to the victor went the spoils.
Once finished with my heroic ode to Nolan Ryan, Emery asked about the guy in the picture next to Nolan. "Oh," I responded, "that's Derek Holland. He's a goofball." And off we walked.
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