Ryan Pressly reminisces about his experience as a spectator during the 2010 ALCS, where he watched the Texas Rangers play. Seated in the news conference room of Minute Maid Park, his Houston Astros hat casts a shadow over his eyes.
Having grown up in the Dallas area, Pressly was a fan of the Rangers, particularly Michael Young. Now, as a relief pitcher for the Astros, he finds himself in an unexpected situation. Grateful for the opportunity, he expresses his gratitude, stating, “I never thought I would be in this situation. I’m just thankful to be here.”
Although he garners considerable attention during this series, Pressly is known for his reticence. He doesn’t engage in social media and believes in maintaining a low profile while focusing on his job. “He likes to keep to himself,” comments Kat Pressly, his wife. “He enjoys being on the ranch, surrounded by nature, and going hunting. He prefers not to attract attention or media.”
As Pressly concentrates on helping the Astros regain their footing in the series, Kat takes charge of securing tickets for their family when the games shift to Arlington. Estimating that they have already obtained around 20 tickets, the constant ringing of her phone, including calls from Ryan’s closest friends, suggests that the number will likely increase significantly by Game 3 on Wednesday night. Ryan has informed everyone that, since they will be seated in the Astros’ family section, they must refrain from wearing any attire associated with the Rangers.
Asked if he’s excited about playing his childhood team, Ryan says he doesn’t see this series as anything different.
“It’s the same game. It just happens to be in my hometown,” he says.
Jose Ruiz kneels down, capturing images of the mural along the third baseline outside Minute Maid Park with his phone. Curious, I inquire, “Are you from Houston?”
“Hell yeah,” he replies, rising to his feet and adjusting his orange dress shirt adorned with the Astros’ logo. It’s still hours before the highly anticipated all-Texas ALCS.
“I arrived here in 1980,” shares Ruiz, now 59, originally hailing from San Benito, a five-hour drive from Houston. “Coming from a small town without any professional teams, I thought, ‘Well, at least I’ll have some teams now.'”
Upon his arrival, and inheriting a disdain for Dallas, Ruiz found the Astros in a sorry state. While they did secure the AL West in 1980, they were never considered perennial contenders. He and his wife would pay a mere $5 to watch them play in the Astrodome, free to sit anywhere due to the lack of attendance.
“I thought they would be terrible for the rest of my life, and I was fine with that,” Ruiz confesses, accepting the reality of being a fan. “There are baseball fans who support their team their whole lives without ever winning a championship.”
Ruiz endured decades of disappointing baseball, assuming it would be his perpetual experience.
“Then they started improving, and it was incredible,” Ruiz exclaims.
He proudly asserts that this newfound success gave him bragging rights over his friends from Dallas. “They label me a cheater,” laments Ruiz, referring to his friends. “They just won’t let it go.”
It’s not only his friends, but seemingly the entire league that perceives the Astros as cheaters. Wherever the Astros play, they face resounding boos from the crowd.
“It’s us against the world,” Ruiz declares.
“I’ve always had a lesser inclination towards mythology compared to most people,” remarks Dr. Walter L. Buenger. Prior to becoming a history professor at the University of Texas, he grew up in Fort Stockton, with Odessa, famously known for “Friday Night Lights,” being the closest major city located about 90 minutes away.
In his characteristic West Texas accent, Buenger explains, “I have a different perspective than many Texans.” His grandparents were of German descent, and his father grew up speaking German in Texas until he began attending school. “Growing up, I heard stories from my grandparents about how the Germans were mistreated and targeted by the Ku Klux Klan in the 1920s.”
From a personal and intellectual standpoint, Buenger recognizes that Texas is a complex place. And perhaps no other cities exemplify this complexity better than the respective homes of the Astros and Rangers, where tensions run deep.
“Going back to the 1890s, Houston and Dallas engaged in fierce competition,” Buenger elaborates. This rivalry encompassed various aspects, from the location of the National Reserve Bank and business dealings to connections and even vying for the opportunity to host the Texas Centennial.
Dallas often emerged victorious in these competitions, including securing the rights to host the Texas Centennial. According to Buenger, this event marked a turning point in the differentiation of identity between Dallas and Houston. Before then, the non-Mexican regions of Texas predominantly identified themselves as part of the South.
With the advent of the centennial came the establishment of the State Fair of Texas and the introduction of Big Tex, the towering cowboy who became a symbolic representation of Dallas in the 1930s. “Dallas has since become more diverse,” Buenger acknowledges. “However, Houston has always exhibited a much greater demographic diversity.”
Dallas embraced the cowboy as its emblematic identity, while Houston associated itself with oil. This inherent contrast, coupled with the historical competition and the four-hour drive separating two of the largest cities in the country, contributed to the development of their rivalry.
“Texas identity is a myth,” Buenger asserts.
These malleable myths serve to obscure the harsh realities of the past. The fact that cotton and slavery played significant roles in shaping Houston, Dallas, and the entire state. The Rangers being named after a law enforcement agency infamous for lynching Mexicans. The first officially recognized baseball team originating from Houston, with the inaugural official game taking place in April 1868 on the same grounds where Texas achieved its independence from Mexico, the San Jacinto battleground. On that day, the Houston Stonewalls triumphed over the Galveston Robert E. Lees with a score of 35-2.
“What occurs in Texas is the replacement of reality with memory,” Buenger explains. “Memory involves both remembering certain aspects and forgetting others.”
“Verlander isn’t performing well,” comments Jason Flores in reference to Houston pitcher Justin Verlander. It’s the sixth inning, following Leody Taveras’ solo home run, granting the Rangers an early lead in the series.
“But they’re getting their act together,” Joel Flores remarks regarding the Astros. “They’re warming up.”
Jason and Joel are twin brothers. Standing near the front entrance of the Magnolia Hotel, a few blocks away from Minute Maid Park, they watch the game on Joel’s cellphone. They work as valets and experience increased activity on October nights like these, when the Astros play at home, primarily before and after the game as fans come and go.
“The parking lot gets packed,” Jason explains. “We have guests who specifically check into the hotel for the game. They stay here for a couple of days, as long as the Astros are in town.”
Both Jason and Joel have been lifelong Astros fans, deeply devoted to all things Houston, and harbor a dislike for Dallas, particularly the Cowboys.
For that reason, they couldn’t care less about the boos directed at the Astros when they play away from home. As Jason emphasizes, “I’m from Houston. That’s who I am, through and through. They are my team.”
As we stand there, observing a few pitches of Game 1 on Joel’s phone, I pose an unthinkable scenario to them.
“Let’s say the Rangers advance. Would you root for them in the World Series since they are a Texas team?”
“Nah,” Jason and Joel respond almost in unison.
“To hell with the Rangers,” Joel exclaims. “If they win, I’m done. It’s time to focus on the Texans.”
“I mean, of course I want a Texas team to make it,” Jason adds. “But here, it’s Houston only.”
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