My Encounter With Nolan Ryan

A few nights ago, I was making the excursion up several sets of escalators and approaching a final staircase that would eventually lead me to the upper-level FOX Sports Southwest suite when my traveling companion, Daniel, directed my attention to the floor immediately above us.

"There's Nolan Ryan," he muttered in a hushed tone, and my eyes darted from the neatly carpeted stairs ahead of me upwards and to the right, as the club president peered down over the railing, all the while maintaining his purposeful stride in the opposite direction.

For about three-quarters of a second, his steely, weathered gaze achieved a state of perfect alignment with my view upwards, and I decided that, this morning, I would provide this very special artist's rendition of what I saw upon making eye contact with Nolan, so that I might better convey my experience of this night:

Then I blacked out, and, from that point onward through the remainder of the evening, reality was no longer distinguishable from fantasy. 

INCEPTION.