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You’ve probably seen the trailer by now. Luke Wilson, looking every bit the weary but proud Texas dad, stares into the camera as a Little League coach. The movie is called You Gotta Believe, and it’s one of those heart-wrenchers that makes you want to hug your kids and head to the nearest baseball diamond. But in Fort Worth, this isn't just a Netflix or theater release. It’s local history.
Bobby Ratliff was a real guy. He wasn't some Hollywood invention designed to make people cry into their popcorn. He was a contract landman in the oil and gas industry, a husband to Patti, and a father to two boys, Robert and John. He lived a pretty normal life in Fort Worth until everything changed with a tiny bump on his wrist.
The Summer of 2002 and a Diagnosis
Most people in Fort Worth remember 2002 as the year the Westside All-Stars did the impossible. Before that season, a team from the Dallas-Fort Worth area hadn't made it to the Little League World Series in over four decades. 42 years. That’s a long time to wait for a ticket to Williamsport.
The team was coached by Jon Kelly—played by Greg Kinnear in the film—and Bobby Ratliff. Bobby wasn't even a "baseball guy" originally. He grew up playing football and swimming. But he loved his sons. When Robert, his 12-year-old first baseman, took the field, Bobby was there.
Then came the melanoma.
It started as what doctors thought was a simple cyst. It wasn’t. It was an aggressive, rare form of skin cancer. By the time the diagnosis was official, the situation was already terminal. Honestly, most people would have retreated inward. Bobby did the opposite.
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Why the "Believe" Mantra Actually Stuck
The phrase "You Gotta Believe" is the title of the movie, but for the 2002 Westside team, it was a survival tactic. Bobby was undergoing intense treatments while the boys were playing through district and sectional tournaments.
There were seven different games where the team faced elimination. One loss and the dream was over. Each time, they clawed back. The boys started wearing Bobby’s name on their caps. It wasn't just about baseball anymore; it was about giving Bobby something to look forward to.
Bobby actually delayed some of his life-extending treatments just so he could travel with the team. He was at the games in Waco. He made it to Pennsylvania. Robert Ratliff has said in interviews that his dad stayed alive through sheer willpower because of that team. It gave him a purpose beyond being a patient.
Fact vs. Fiction: What the Movie Changes
Hollywood likes a "misfit" story. In the film, the Westside All-Stars are portrayed as a bunch of ragtag kids who barely know which end of the bat to hold.
In reality? They were actually pretty good.
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They weren't total basement-dwellers, but they were huge underdogs once they hit the national stage. The real climax of their season wasn't a championship win—they actually lost 2-1 to a team from Louisville, Kentucky. But it was an 11-inning marathon. A standard Little League game is only six innings. This game had 49 total strikeouts. ESPN called it an "Instant Classic," and it ran on ESPN Classic for years.
Bobby got to see that. He saw his son play on the most famous dirt in youth sports. He died the following May, in 2003, but he saw the miracle first.
A Legacy That Didn't End at the Grave
If you live in Fort Worth today, the Ratliff name is still everywhere, particularly in the nonprofit world. Bobby’s friends, Jim Holcomb and Phil Mani, made a promise to him on his deathbed. They promised they’d take care of his boys and make sure they went to college.
They kept that promise. Robert and John both graduated from Ole Miss. But the foundation they started—The Ratliff Foundation—didn't stop there.
The Annual Clay Shoot
For over twenty years, the foundation has held an annual sporting clay shoot. It’s a big deal in the Texas oil and gas community because that was Bobby’s world. They’ve raised massive amounts of money for the Cook Children’s Hematology and Oncology Center.
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I think it's cool that they didn't just build a statue. They funded actual tests and treatments for kids in Fort Worth battling the same stuff Bobby did.
Where is the Ratliff Family Now?
Robert Ratliff, the kid at first base, is a grown man now. He’s a vice president at an insurance company in Fort Worth. He’s a dad himself.
He and his brother John also run the "You Gotta Believe" sports camps. They started with about 28 kids in 2007. Now, they’ve seen over 3,500 kids pass through. They use football and baseball to teach the same grit their dad showed them.
Bobby left Robert a literal list of lessons on how to be a father and a husband. It’s a heavy inheritance, but Robert seems to be carrying it well. He’s active at University Baptist Church and still calls Fort Worth home.
Actionable Takeaways from Bobby's Story
You don't have to be a Little League star to take something away from this. Bobby Ratliff’s life suggests a few things we can actually use:
- Check the small stuff. That "minor cyst" was melanoma. If you see something weird on your skin, don't wait. Texas sun is no joke.
- Purpose is medicine. Bobby’s doctors were amazed he stayed as active as he did. Having something to root for—like a team or a project—can literally extend your perspective on life.
- Legacy is about people, not things. Bobby didn't leave a corporate empire. He left a phrase and a group of friends who were so moved by his character that they spent the next 20 years taking care of his kids.
If you’re looking to support the cause, you can look into the Ratliff Foundation or the You Gotta Believe camps. They are still very much a part of the Fort Worth community. Bobby might be gone, but in Westside Little League and at Cook Children's, he's still very much a presence.
To help keep the story alive, consider visiting the Westside Little League complex at Rockwood Park. There’s a plaque there. It’s a quiet spot, but it represents a summer where a whole city learned that sometimes, believing is the only thing that matters.