I am the Rangers bullpen.
Wait—there’s no need to cover your eyes or scramble to run your antivirus software. Please: I’m asking for your emotional support here.
Just as Friday night’s unnecessarily harrowing 8-6 win over the Mariners, which opened the Rangers’ biggest 10-game stretch in seven years, felt like a microcosm of the team’s season—
—the team’s bullpen feels like a microcosm of my experience in 2023 Texas Rangers fandom.
Don’t abandon me! Allow me to explain:
I am Aroldis Chapman. I’m amped up like I haven’t been in years. I may not have the same juice I had a decade ago, but it’s been a helluva season. I’ve got my fastball. I know, I know—it doesn’t always cooperate, and I can lose command, and things can go south quickly. There are nights when I’m absolutely all over the place. It’s never easy! Maybe I’m a little gassed. But I’m in full staredown mode. Let’s go.
I am Will Smith. The first four months were so good. So good! And it wasn’t supposed to happen, at least not like that. But man, right around mid-August. Oh, man. What happened? It started to feel like all that unexpected April-May-June-July-half-of-August magic was fool’s gold. How was I closing games without closer’s stuff all that time? I’d like to feel like that again, but I’m at a loss to define what sort of lead feels safe.
I am Jose Leclerc. It’s all still right there. No matter how it feels, look at the numbers. The stats, the standings. Better than it feels. It’s all right there. Never mind the look in my eye. If there’s any magic to rekindle in all of this, this is where it lives. Flipside: the more invested hope, the more potential for disappointment. But the team controls its destiny. I am Jose Leclerc, and (reminder to self) I can (try to) control mine!
I am Andrew Heaney and Martin Perez. The way things started, this is absolutely not at all where I thought I’d be in September. But all things considered, getting away from the inconsistency and the enormous change in situation and looking at this through as wide a lens as I can—this isn’t so bad. It’s not.
I am Chris Stratton. No, I’m not. Nothing about this stretch feels methodical, or standard-issue, or quietly effective.
I am Brock Burke. Look, don’t ask me. I can’t really explain 2023. Do I still feel good about this? I still feel good about this. But: home runs are bad.
I am Cody Bradford. Is there really an outcome at this point that will make 2023 a disappointment? What a phenomenally extraordinary year. But, still: game face. Always. No reason it can’t be even more extraordinary.
I am Jonathan Hernandez. What the heck has happened??
I am Josh Sborz and Grant Anderson. I mean, am I supposed to accept the argument that all that crazy first-half success was a mirage? Get me through the next week so I don’t have to think about that any more.
I am Jake Latz. And I am Austin Hedges. Is there anything I can do? Anything? Make sure not to shake things up too much? Keep morale up? Wear mismatched socks? Just stay ready?
It’s a long season, and I’m exhausted. Too often lately, I’ve had to remind myself I’ve still got something left in the tank. That I’ve still got my fastball. Hopefully for another six weeks, but give me at least two.
And then, whenever this run ends, please, oh please, give this bullpen some reinforcements so none of us feel this way again next season.
Author
