Note: Yesterday, Texas Rangers fans were surprised and disappointed when they learned that pitcher Cliff Lee signed with the Philadelphia Phillies. But many fans were also relieved he didn’t choose the Yankees. It’s the kind of news my dad would have followed closely and that we would have discussed. I wrote the following piece after the Rangers lost the World Series earlier this year. I never got around to posting it but thought now would be a good time.

Dad watching the Texas Rangers and New York Yankees in Game 5 of the American League Championship Series. The Rangers ended up losing 7-2, but would go on to beat the Yankees two nights later in Game 6, earning a trip to the World Series for the first time.

The Rangers didn’t win the World Series, but that’s okay. Years from now, I’ll still remember the time they beat the New York Yankees to earn their first trip to the championship series. It was a bittersweet night.

Anticipating a victory for the Rangers, I headed to the nursing home where my dad now lives. I took a Rangers baseball cap for him to wear.

Dad was in bed and not completely focused on the game despite my constant reminders of what the Rangers had a chance to finally accomplish. This wasn’t just about getting to the World Series. It was about beating the team that had previously defeated them – each of the three times they’d appeared in the playoffs.

At times, it was frustrating to watch. I wanted my dad to feel the same sense of excitement and pride as me in seeing his team in its biggest moment: Game 6 of the American League Championship Series. It was what my dad, a die-hard fan, had always longed for.

Why, after all those years, did the Rangers finally have a real shot at the World Series when he could not appreciate it? It would have been different had dementia not set in, I thought.

Dad dozed off a couple of times but managed to stay awake for most of the game. As his eyes focused on the TV screen, I hoped that maybe some part of him – if only for a minute – understood the magnitude of what we were watching.

I sat at the foot of his bed and continued to update him on the plays, the score and what was at stake. I cheered and yelled, hoping it might stir something inside of him.

Instead, what stirred were the emotions of a daughter who longed to have her old dad back. It conjured up memories of my childhood, sitting in the car with Dad, listening to the Rangers on the radio as we waited for Mom to finish grocery shopping. It brought back memories of the long drive we made from Texas to Florida, listening to a playoff game in a rented U-haul truck. And it reminded me of the time I took Dad to his first Rangers spring training game in Port Charlotte, making sure we snagged at least a couple of autographs.

“Mira, Daddy,” I said to him as Alex Rodriguez stood at the plate, two strikes in. “This could be it.”

And so it was. Closer Neftali Feliz threw the final pitch that struck out A-Rod.

“Ganaron, Daddy!” They won!” I shouted. But the rejoicing quickly gave way to tears.

I looked at Dad, who remained awake and continued to stare at the television screen. I didn’t want him to see me cry, so I turned away and sat quietly watching the celebration.

I imagined the moment under different circumstances – Dad with a huge smile on his face, raising his fist in the air and clapping.

Later that night as I talked to my husband about the experience, he encouraged me by pointing out that I probably would always regret not being with my dad on that historic night if I’d chosen to stay home. He’s right.

I managed to watch a few more games with my dad. That the Rangers ultimately didn’t win the championship was beside the point. Their appearance in the playoffs and World Series gave me the opportunity to share something special with him.