A Man, His Texas Rangers Stuffed Monkey, and the World Series

It’s his. He brought the monkey to the game. I thought it might be his son’s, or maybe his daughter’s, but it isn’t. It’s his. I’m convinced. You can tell by the way he’s holding it. And you can’t tell me otherwise. Hell, he might watch Rangers games on television at home much the same way: mouth agape, baseball glove at the ready, Texas Rangers stuffed monkey held tight to his chest.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not here to judge him. I don’t know him. Maybe he went to game(s) four and/or five of last year’s World Series in Arlington without his Rangers monkey. Maybe he thought about taking the monkey, agonized over the decision, but ended up leaving it at home. Maybe, sans monkey, he watched Texas fall to San Francisco. Maybe he saw the Giants celebrate their championship on the field — his team’s field — at Rangers Ballpark. Maybe he blamed the monkey. Maybe he promised himself that should the Rangers ever make it back to the World Series, and should he be blessed to be in attendance, to hell with what people think, he wasn’t going to the game without his stuffed Rangers monkey; he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

We’ll never know. What we do know: sports makes us do some silly shit. That picture above — of a grown man who has paid to be at the ballpark, wearing a Rangers hat, Rangers t-shirt, and a baseball glove, and clutching a Rangers stuffed monkey — is what being a fan of this game in October is all about.

I hope he doesn’t have any regrets. Should the Rangers wrap it up Thursday night, or in game seven, and finally be declared World Series champions for the first time in their 51-year history, I know he won’t.

Thanks to the Twitter accounts of @AnswerDave and @cjzero for the image. Your stuffed animals are in the mail.