Some people are born in towns and states without professional sports teams. Some people are born and go to high schools where the cross country team has 60 members and the football team has 20. Some people are born with the need to talk about their favorite president rather than their favorite basketball player. Some people are born without cable TV.

I just might be one of those people.

It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve watched my fair share of super bowls and final fours. And while I enjoy the spinach dip and Tostitos at these events, I have to admit I’ve never been a true professional sports fan.

I lack the tenacity, the consistency and the dedication this role requires. Until recently, I have successfully faked my level of sports knowledge. Then last week I heard mention of the “World Series” and “Rangers” and became thoroughly confused because I could have sworn it wasn’t baseball season – if you asked me where the Rangers were from, I would only be certain it wasn’t Abilene.

The fervor so many of my peers displayed was both foreign and disconcerting. I felt like an outcast, a reject, a socially inept individual. Suddenly, my oblivion to sports teams and scores came crashing down as my preconceived notion that all diehard sports fans are literally insane lost its foundation. Perhaps they are crazy, but when everyone becomes crazy, it’s kind of hard not to join in the fun.

So I’m using this column to make a pledge to change my ways. I’m not just talking about buying a Rangers jersey and pretending to pay attention when they play. I’m talking about the real deal, the big leagues. First, the rules, then player names, then actual conversations with fellow Ranger believers. Give it till the end of this little series, and I guarantee I will know not only the name of the other team, but also the score we, the Rangers, won by.

I want to be a Rangers fan. There, I’ve said it. I expect to be welcomed with open arms.