ARLINGTON, Texas _ Erikson Andrus thought he was a dead man.
On an ordinary day waiting in line at a crowded lunch-time eatery, a gunman appeared out of the corner of his left eye. He lurched closer and ... BANG!
Then more gunfire, from multiple directions.
Patrons screamed and scrambled for cover. Face-down on the floor, Andrus' mind flashed to his wife and daughter in the car. He lifted his head and saw the bodyguard hired by his brother, Texas Rangers shortstop Elvis Andrus. Blood soaked the bodyguard's shirt.
A bullet had entered his chest, tearing through his left side and lodging itself below his armpit.
"Hey boss, hey boss, let's go!" the stocky bodyguard urged seconds after he fired seven bullets, killing the assailant. A second suspect fired shots above his head and ran.
The gunmen were believed to belong to one of the country's armed civilian groups loyal to Venezuela's socialist government. Andrus had become a target because of his famous last name and his job as a spokesman with Empresas Polar, the country's largest private company and top beer producer _ and a staunch opponent of the increasingly totalitarian regime.
"He was going to kill me," Andrus said, recently recounting the events of May 29, 2014. "That scared me."
Throughout this baseball season, the six Venezuelan players on the Rangers roster have been consumed by concern for the safety and well-being of loved ones back home as civil unrest, economic collapse and extreme food and medicine shortages roil the country.
Some have brought parents and siblings to North Texas to escape the turmoil. Relatives of big-leaguers are afforded the mobility to leave, but when their six-month travel visas expire, they return home not only to rapidly deteriorating living conditions, but also as targets of kidnappers seeking ransom.
The morning after Andrus' life-threatening encounter, he called his brother a world away in Washington D.C., where the Rangers were opening a weekend series against the Nationals.
"Hey Elvi," Erikson said, using his little brother's nickname. "I need to do something."
"You know what, bro?" Elvis said. "It's time to come to the U.S."
A week later Erikson and his family were in North Texas, seeking asylum.
"Thank God nothing happened to my brother," Elvis said. "As soon as that happened, because you knew it could happen any time, I brought them all here."
How the chaos-inflicted stress might have affected the players' performances over the course of the season is impossible to know. The distraction clings closely to their hearts.
Second baseman Rougned Odor, though a fierce competitor nightly, has slumped at the plate all season. Catcher Robinson Chirinos took over the starting job in July, and has staked a claim for the job for next season. Pitcher Martin Perez, seeking an elusive breakout, is 12-11. Andrus has put together another solid year.
A return to the postseason is unlikely with little more than a week left in the regular season. At the conclusion, each player would love to head home, to normal times, to laugh and play dominoes with their families and friends at weekend barbecues. Now, none are sure they will venture home.
"Especially right now, I don't think about that because if I start thinking about 'should I go or don't go,' when I go up to bat," Odor, 23, said, then pausing. "I have all my friends and family there, so that's why I can't be thinking about that right now."
