By Ron Morgan
Corsicana Daily Sun
After a thorough self-diagnosis, I have determined that I have sports depression. Do they make a sport Prozac? I think I need it.
All of this has come on in less than a month. The first part of September, all was well with the world. The Cowboys had just beaten the defending world champs, the Rangers led their division by five or six games and the swinging A’s had lost two starting pitchers and their third baseman. The surprising run by the team with the lowest payroll in baseball had to come to an end shortly. The sun was shining, and the birds were singing. The world was a beautiful place.
Then Jerry’s boys traveled to the Northwest Territory to take on the Seattle Seajokes. Come on, Seattle is a far cry from the Packers or the Eagles, and besides, they were starting a rookie quarterback they selected in the third round. A Felix Jones’ fumble and a blocked punt later, the dark clouds started to gather.
“But, those games happen every season. There’s no reason to worry.” I told myself. Of course, I still had a few lingering doubts.
Less than two weeks ago, Dallas had bounced back to beat Tampa Bay, and the Rangers had a five-game lead with nine to play. The rose colored glasses came back out. After all, the Cowboy defense resembled something out of Texas Stadium from the ‘70s, and the Rangers WERE the two-time defending American League champs. It would all be okay.
Then the swinging A’s came to town, and the Rangers could only manage one win out of a three-game series. Losing wo out of three to the resurgent Angels didn’t help, but the lead was down to two games with a season ending three-game road trip to Oakland.
Before the Arlington crew could even get to the West Coast, the Cowboys managed to fall to Da’ Bears. It was Jay Cutler and his freakin’ Chi Town teammates here at Jerry World. Two pick sixes out of five turnovers and the season looked dead. The schedule doesn’t look too promising for the rest of the season. If they can’t handle Chicago, what will they do with Baltimore, San Francisco, New England, Philadelphia and New York?
The Rangers headed west for the big showdown, the Thrilla’ in Mani… okay, Oakland (it’s tough to rhyme anything with Oakland). I’m afraid the only thrilla’ was some guy in the right field bleachers playing Michael Jackson on his I Pod.
The Athletics turned into the Mitt Romney of the American League West. The only time they led the division was following game number 162. The Rangers had led the division every day since the fourth game of the season, or 157 games out of 162. The A’s came out swinging while the Rangers tried to play rope-a-dope.
Our guys couldn’t hold a four run lead. Ryan Dempster was a stud against teams that couldn’t hit. Unfortunately, Oakland doesn’t fall into that category. For some reason, Wash turned to Derek Holland who is not to be confused with the Derek Holland who pitched so well in last year’s playoffs. Wash had Uehara, maybe the hottest pitcher in his bullpen, fireballing reliever Ogando and Joe Nathan available, and he brings in Holland.
Things weren’t dead just yet. Even though the A’s had tied the game at five all, a pop fly to center field would end the inning. Enter the former AL MVP and resident drama queen. He drops the pop fly, and two runs score. Hamilton acted like he thought he was Dez Bryant! And, lest we forget, there is the throwing error by Ian Kinsler on what should have been a routine double play. Yes, the same Ian Kinsler who hit .190 on the road after July 1.
So, I can only find a possible four more wins on the Cowboy’s schedule, and my hopes aren’t too high for a lengthy playoff run for the Rangers. As I lay here in a dark room in the fetal position, I only see three possible cures: A large dose of athletic antidepressant, an adjustment from Dr. Frank Means or a surprise run by Dirk and his new teammates. Hmmm …. maybe I’d better just call Frank.