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| My amazing cat Turtle and me. |
So Kharla rescued a cat that I would name Turtle. He was an itty-bitty kitty. We thought he was a she until the doc informed us he was a he. Turtle was certainly unpredictable and 100% awesome. I was proud of his name too. I thought it was original and amazing. Not long after adopting him though, I happened to be bored and watched an episode of The People’s Court (I hadn’t seen that show since the days of Judge Wapner). There was a case where a guy had a problem with a neighbor’s cat. The name? Turtle. Who would have guessed?
Before I even got Turtle, Kharla and I were at
Southern Ag. Southern Ag is a chain of
about a half dozen pet stores in the Tulsa area. We were there to get her cat Patrick a new
collar or something. Kharla came across a
prize kiosk thingy. One of those booths
where you give out all your information short of your social security number
for a chance at a prize. I didn’t do it
and I discouraged her from doing it as well.
“They don’t even really give away prizes,” I implored, “They just collect
and sell your information.” Turns out I
was only half right.
A few months later I get a cat and Kharla gets a call. She won four tickets to see the Texas Rangers
and a one-night stay at the Sheraton Hotel within walking distance of the
stadium. She called up her friend
Jessica in OKC and her boyfriend Tim would join us as well. I would buy Turtle a brand-new ID tag and
collar and he wore it for the first time the day we left for Arlington.
About four and a half hours after departure we arrived at
the hotel right on time to meet up with Jessica and Tim. We checked in and walked down to the ball
park. Upon getting our tickets scanned
at the entrance and entering the stadium security was “randomly” choosing
people to get patted down and have a magnetic wand waved around their person. Tim happened to be the only random guy in our
immediate vicinity to get stopped. Okay,
he’s the random guy I guess. But when
the crowd is like 90% white and a black guy gets stopped it’s curious. To say the least it doesn’t look good. And Jessica rightly let her displeasure
known. Loudly. Tim was calm like it’s
just another one of those things he goes through. Been there, done that. He got it over with and we were on our way to
our seats.
The Rangers were bad that year. Still a few seasons away from Jon Daniels
making the deals that got my beloved Rangers to the World Series in
back-to-back seasons. Despite the
sub-500 record this was a good game. My
team won 8-5 thanks to a huge 5-run first inning. Marlon Byrd accounted for 5 runs thanks to a
double and a triple. He’s not the
central player to this story though.
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| Nice seats behind home plate. You can kinda make out the Dominican Republic flag out there in honor of Sammy Sosa. |
This game was the game the Rangers chose to honor SammySosa. Sammy had recently hit his 600th
career home run. There was this grand
pregame ceremony and Sosa had a celebrity there to build him up and introduce
him. None other than Vin Diesel. Really?
The crowd loved it though. Probably
explains how a bad team could draw a sellout 44,000 fans in 95-degree
weather. Xander Cage really sold Sammy
as a great guy, a great player. Got
great pops from the crowd. But Sammy
Sosa is not the player central to this story either.
It’s a guy on the visiting team. All-star catcher Victor Martinez of the
Cleveland Indians. Victor is a solid
catcher who can hit. So good in fact,
that after 16 seasons he still plays in the majors at age 39. I’d get a good look at V-Mart too. The tickets we got weren’t cheap
tickets. They were nice seats a couple
rows back behind home plate. There was a
net up in front of us, but barely. We
had our hot dogs, brats, and sodas. We
sang “Deep in the Heart of Texas” , we watched
mascots race between innings. A few nice
innings of baseball made us forget the problems we had with security getting
in. The home team putting some runs on
the board will certainly help ease tension.
Victor Martinez was at the plate. I watched just about every pitch so far that
game. Balls, strikes, hits. But to my left I noticed an abomination. Approaching rapidly was an avalanche of
synchronized asinine activity. Ladies
and gentlemen, approaching from the 3rd base side of the stadium we
have… the wave! I announced my
disapproval to my friends with great chagrin.
Looking to my left I dressed it down as stupid. No way would I participate. Now, back to the action. I straightened my neck to look forward to the
batter. As my head turned, out of my
peripheral vision on my right side was a blurry fast moving white orb streaking
and pain. The orb slowed as the baseball
bounced off my right arm and behind us.
I have been to maybe a dozen pro baseball games and never got a foul
ball. Now I was hit by one! A powerful
blast slammed into my arm out of nowhere.
My deltoid was burning.
Throbbing. I lifted my shirt,
there was no bruise yet. The pain mostly
subsided within an inning or so. I was
mostly mad about getting hit and not getting the ball. Victor Martinez was now going to be infamous
in my world and I still hate the wave.
I went home. I needed
to check on Turtle. The kitty was still
so small. So cute. The novelty of having a kitten was still
strong. I got home to hug the little
fella—if he was in the mood. He
wasn’t. He needed to be held
though. He needed rescuing. Apparently, I had his collar on too loose,
but not loose enough to come off.
Somehow Turtle’s jaw was strapped open.
I guess while trying to remove it, he got his collar past his mouth but
it slipped and got wedged in there. The
pressure put on his jaw must have been terrible. I have no idea how long he’d been like that. It could have been 30 minutes, it could have
been 30 hours. Later I’d notice blood on
his ID tag. That made me feel even
worse. Suddenly my right arm pain didn’t
matter anymore.
Over the next couple days, I noticed something else. Turtle couldn’t eat. And had a real hard time drinking. He’d take a sip and his jaw would just hang
open. He had to use his paw to lift it back up, to close his mouth. I feared he broke his jaw but his vet said
he’s likely just real sore. He gave me
some pain meds and an eye dropper to give to him. Within a few days Turtle was good as
new. Though he would develop a scar on
his jaw by his lip.
On Wednesday I went back to work. I told coworkers about the tragedies Turtle
and I survived. Not really tragedies, but in my little world they were bad
news. My colleagues politely emphasized
with me. Later that day I heard about a
real tragedy. Tulsa Drillers 1st
base coach Mike Coolbaugh died at a baseball game in Arkansas. A line drive hit him in the neck Sunday, the
day after the Rangers game I had been at.
I realized that I wasn’t unlucky. Nothing bad truly happened
to me or to Turtle. I was blessed. A bruise on my arm could have been much
worse. A sore jaw could have been much
worse. These anecdotes were just that,
singular events in my life that are just one of many. Mike Coolbaugh, a man who
had been on the field for hundreds of games had his life suddenly ended because
of similar circumstances. It wasn’t just
another day in his life. It was the last day in his life. His wife would be husband-less. His kids fatherless.
Until I heard about what happened to him I looked at the
ball hitting me as a bad thing that happened.
But it wasn’t. It was a reminder
that I’m alive and that I am fortunate to have memories I can look back at. I can reflect on what could have happened and
be grateful. I spent time with friends
and my cat was okay. My girlfriend
became my wife. The Rangers would make
it to the World Series twice. And at
least the guy that fouled the ball off me was an all-star and not a scrub getting a cup of coffee making the event even better.
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| I still have the ticket stub! |
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