I grew up in the heart of Texas, and how enjoyable it was. I loved Abilene and had a great childhood there as far as the settings go. In the household though, things were very different.
As a youngster, for the first few years of my life, I had a great life. My mother and father raised me in a wonderful Christian household. I was brought to church with them every week, never missing a day. My parents were both raised in the church so naturally they were going to do the same with me. Even at the age of three I remember playing in the nursery with other children. I remember going to Vacation Bible School and learning about stories in the Bible (mainly David and Goliath) even as a young child.
Everything changed when I was about 5 years old. When my mother switched jobs, it forced her out of the house every Sunday. Then my father decided to keep busy around the home while she was gone. We all stopped going to church, and there was an obvious rift between both of my parents. This led to a divorce three years layer.
When I'd ask my mother about them, she'd always promise me that everything was fine between the two of them. She'd even go so far as bringing my father to the house so that it'd appear they were still together (even though they'd always either argue or not speak to each other when he was here).
There was something good that came out of this, though. Between the ages of 8-10 I spent a lot of time in my room. I wasn't fortunate enough to have a television, but I did figure out how to use my radio. I turned the music up loud enough so that I wouldn't have to hear my parents argue. It was one day, though, that I was switching through the channels and I heard a different voice. I heard "it's three balls and one strike". Three balls? One strike? Sure, I remember playing with balls in my backyard as a kid. My dad and I use to play catch with balls, sometimes even a baseball as I got earlier. But that's all. So what were balls and strikes? What did they signify?
I kept listening and I heard more terminology: home run, strikeout, walk, ground out, fly out. I still wasn't sure what was going on, but I did gather enough information to realize I was listening to my first baseball game. My father always talked about Nolan Ryan when his friends were over. He talked the Rangers and sometimes he brought some balls back from the ballpark for me. I had heard about it, but I had never actually experienced it. Even just listening to the game kept me on the edge of my bed. Well, I was actually standing up right next to where the radio was sitting most of the time. But at the age of 8, I became a baseball fan.
When my dad would come over I went right to my room hoping a baseball game would be on. I became a Rangers fan by the age of 9. I told my mom I listened to the games and she went out and bought me a Rangers hat that I wore all over. I even wore it to school everyday. My friends would ask me "did the Rangers win last night?". Unfortunately the 1983 season for the Rangers wasn't exactly a great one (77-85), but every time our beloved Rangers won we loved to talk about it. Even at the ages of 8 and 9!
The Texas Rangers were truly my escape during my childhood. They'd take me away from all of my pains, and give me an outlet that made me happy. To this day, I love the team and experience the same joy with each win that I did back then.
As a youngster, for the first few years of my life, I had a great life. My mother and father raised me in a wonderful Christian household. I was brought to church with them every week, never missing a day. My parents were both raised in the church so naturally they were going to do the same with me. Even at the age of three I remember playing in the nursery with other children. I remember going to Vacation Bible School and learning about stories in the Bible (mainly David and Goliath) even as a young child.
Everything changed when I was about 5 years old. When my mother switched jobs, it forced her out of the house every Sunday. Then my father decided to keep busy around the home while she was gone. We all stopped going to church, and there was an obvious rift between both of my parents. This led to a divorce three years layer.
When I'd ask my mother about them, she'd always promise me that everything was fine between the two of them. She'd even go so far as bringing my father to the house so that it'd appear they were still together (even though they'd always either argue or not speak to each other when he was here).
There was something good that came out of this, though. Between the ages of 8-10 I spent a lot of time in my room. I wasn't fortunate enough to have a television, but I did figure out how to use my radio. I turned the music up loud enough so that I wouldn't have to hear my parents argue. It was one day, though, that I was switching through the channels and I heard a different voice. I heard "it's three balls and one strike". Three balls? One strike? Sure, I remember playing with balls in my backyard as a kid. My dad and I use to play catch with balls, sometimes even a baseball as I got earlier. But that's all. So what were balls and strikes? What did they signify?
I kept listening and I heard more terminology: home run, strikeout, walk, ground out, fly out. I still wasn't sure what was going on, but I did gather enough information to realize I was listening to my first baseball game. My father always talked about Nolan Ryan when his friends were over. He talked the Rangers and sometimes he brought some balls back from the ballpark for me. I had heard about it, but I had never actually experienced it. Even just listening to the game kept me on the edge of my bed. Well, I was actually standing up right next to where the radio was sitting most of the time. But at the age of 8, I became a baseball fan.
When my dad would come over I went right to my room hoping a baseball game would be on. I became a Rangers fan by the age of 9. I told my mom I listened to the games and she went out and bought me a Rangers hat that I wore all over. I even wore it to school everyday. My friends would ask me "did the Rangers win last night?". Unfortunately the 1983 season for the Rangers wasn't exactly a great one (77-85), but every time our beloved Rangers won we loved to talk about it. Even at the ages of 8 and 9!
The Texas Rangers were truly my escape during my childhood. They'd take me away from all of my pains, and give me an outlet that made me happy. To this day, I love the team and experience the same joy with each win that I did back then.
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