The Rangers wrapped up their season yesterday with a loss to the Angels. I love my team, but they’re just not that good.

In Spring training, Hood and I watched this team (like Buck Showalter and Orel Hershiser, above), and wondered what the season would hold. But… this was about what we expected.

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The Astros clinched their division though (whoo hoo!), and though the Yankees did take the AL East, Boston clinched the wildcard berth. Man a Houston/Boston world series would kill me!

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Kelli and I did have a fine date at the Rangers Saturday night game. It was great to be out just as the two of us, with no kids in tow. The Rangers lost by one run (how many times has that happened this season? PLENTY). There was a fireworks show afterwards set to Beatles music, and it was great, just great. They don’t mess around, don’t do a half-assed job in the least.

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An interview with former MST3K prop diva Beez McKeever—cool!

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I think people are usually too quick to proclaim themselves phobic about something. Seems like most of the women I know claim to be claustrophic, somehow. And I think the people making these claims are mixing up natural, reasonable fears with the debilitating, unreasonable sorts of fears (aka phobias).

I always said I wasn’t scared of heights. It’s not like I have anything to prove. It’s just that in a handful of episodes in my life, I experienced no anxiety while others around me did. Genie lift in some studio to run ambient mikes? No problem. Floor to ceiling windows way up in some skyscraper? No problem.

Well, I was put to the test Friday night.

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Went to strike radio gear with Hood again. With a broadcast ending, people filing out of the stadium and maintenance guys eager to shut things down, it’s kind of a race to get the gear out. Hood first asked me to fetch the ambient mikes from the catwalk outside the press box. No problem.

Heh heh… to get there, you’ve gotta climb the railing at the edge of the top-floor walkway. No gate, no stairs, and in fact, you have to jump over a gap of about a foot to get on it. Below that is about a forty foot drop to the concourse.

And this catwalk is nothing but a metal grate with no handrails or anything. Again, you look straight down and you see the forty foot drop.

So… I can’t claim it was no problem. I was careful, watched my step, and kept in mind what an awful fall it could be. I gathered the mikes, wrapped the cable and was done.

But I’d say that was very natural, very reasonable fear I had. Not a phobia for sure, and heck, it wasn’t that bad. I don’t think a phobic would have made it over the rail.

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Monday. One foot after the other I suppose.