Magic.

I was among the 50,000 or so in attendance at The Ballpark in Arlington on October 9th, 1999, when the Rangers played, to date, their last ever playoff game. I remember it clearly: Derek Jeter tripled in the first inning, followed shortly by a homer by Darryl Strawberry (DARRRRRRRYL). That was all the offense the hated Yankees needed; Roger Clemens, no doubt fresh off a gigantic shot of steroids, shut the Rangers down, didn't give up a run, in comes Mariano Rivera, and for the third time in four years, Texas was promptly dispatched by the eventual world champions.

For 11 years now, I've waited to see my beloved team back in the postseason. Ever since then, in times good (a few) and bad (a whole freaking lot), I've stayed behind the wheel of the unofficial Rangers' Bandwagon. And now, barring an epic collapse, it's gonna happen. As the slogan reads: It's Time.

The purpose of this blog is not to wax poetic about the Rangers' string of awful seasons the last week or so, or to recap the spectacular, memorable season they've given me in 2010. No, this entry is an open invitation for all you sports fans: jump on the bandwagon now. I'm driving this sucker, and I've saved room for all of you.

Unless the Cowboys turn it around quickly, and somehow overcome their overwhelming schedule from here on out, Dallas games are going to revert to what they were a few years ago, which was basically akin to taking medicine: you knew it was gonna be bad, but you had to suffer through it.

Now, finally, there may be an alternative, if only for a short while. The Rangers' Magic Number (combined wins + losses by 2nd place Oakland) is at 6. Again I say, barring an epic collapse, it's. gonna. happen.

Hop on.

Anchor Down

Written by Tim C., KTAB producer

Anchors are more than pretty faces for the TV...and Bob and Lane will be the first to let you know.

Seriously though as much grief as I like to give them Bob and Lane are more than just anchors. They produce, write, coordinate, and share in just about every responsibility in the newsroom. Which makes it a lot less fun when they are out of the office for many reasons.

As many of you have probably noticed Lane has been out, and will be for another week or so, and my boss let me know that dropping the 5 pm show was not an option so that means a few extra hours up at the office.

When people are gone from the workplace you really realize just how much work they do...all that time I thought Lane was just goofing off. So all this to say that anchors should not be allowed to take time off from work, mostly because its inconvenient for me.

Voir Dire

I went to the mailbox a few days ago and found a big green postcard from the district clerk. I checked the front and there was my full legal name, Ronald Wayne Rosseau. Jury Duty. I don't have time for jury duty...almost no one has time for jury duty. I thought about the disqualifications and the possible exemptions. My kids are all too big. There is no one invalid in my house. I'm still a ways from the exemption for being at least 70. I thought about the sound mind exemption. The judge might buy it. My alarm clock goes off at at time when the chickens would slap the silly thing off and tuck their head under the other wing. I finally dropped the idea and showed up. Surely, the lawyers wouldn't want someone like me for the jury. Hundreds of people were already in the jury assembly room when I got there. Hundreds more came in later. My chances for early dismissal looked pretty good, and after the clerk named a hundred or more people and directed them to different jury panels, she told the rest of us that we wouldn't be needed. The exhales of relief was audible and palpable. One of the biggest and loudest came from my chest. I came back to work, but the phone rang. There was a mistake and I had to come back for another jury panel. After sitting there and waiting for the wheels of justice to grind on our nerves, the judge invited all of us up to the fourth floor for the voir dire. I know just enough French to know that it shouldn't be pronounced "voy-dire," but that's how we say it here in West Texas. It means "to say truth." I had already raised my hand and promised to tell the truth. I would anyway. After the attorneys explained the importance of what the process for the defendant and for the Texas legal system, my thoughts began to change. I was secretly hoping that the lawyers would want me on the jury. I was number 25 of about 40. They needed twelve. The judge started calling out the names that the lawyers wanted for the case. The only took four or five from each of the first two rows. There was still a chance...but then they skipped me and called the last two-or three jurors seated down the line. The rest of us were free to go with the thanks and appreciation of the court. It was an interesting process. I don't know which attorney didn't want me. It really doesn't matter. I hope that the dread will be a little less the next time I open the mailbox and find one of those big green postcards with my full legal name on it.