WFNY Insider: Discussing Game 7 pitching
November 2, 2016Cubs Outlast Indians, 8-7
November 3, 2016In 2004, the excellent Boston message board Sons of Sam Horn started a thread on the night the Red Sox were to battle with the New York Yankees. The former had been down 3-0 in the series and was the underdog against their vaunted rivals from across state lines.
The thread, at the time, was titled “Win It For…” where the author, Shaun Kelly, started listing individuals close to him who he felt would be impacted the most—dead or alive—by the Red Sox winning the ALCS. Yes—merely the chance to go to the World Series spawned a beautiful discussion between the site’s owners and the rest of the Boston sports community. Upon Kelly’s urging, the next thing the internet would know is that 1,900 replies would soon follow, all unique in their own way, would provide a collection of thoughts from individuals at all walks of life who could share just how much a Red Sox victory on that very night would mean.
Fourteen years later, here we are in Cleveland, standing on the doorstep of winning the whole damn thing. The injuries, the naysayers, the “circumstances.” The Cavaliers winning the NBA title was terrific for the city of Cleveland, but there are so many people in this town who were driven to tears by the losses in 1995 or 1997, the latter of which they were supposed to win. After the initial showing of ESPN’s Believeland, former Indians manager Mike Hargrove, the man who drove the ship for that entire, incredible run, was asked when he finally got over that Game 7 loss. “When it happens, I’ll let you know,” Hargrove replied.
The Cleveland Indians winning Game 7 tonight will not lift a curse. It won’t be the game, or the team, that gets the initial recognition when it comes to turning Cleveland as a city back into a winner. What it will do, however, is make the last 19 years so worthwhile.
For all of those who were old enough to remember the run in the mid-1940, yet young enough to be there for this one… For all of the middle-aged men and women who still wear their 1995 or 1997 crewneck sweatshirts who had to toil through years of watching guys like David Dellucci and Jason Donald… For all of the men and women now in their 30s, who grew up watching that team of the ’90s and instantly became a fan of the game only to now have their own families who get to experience this magic… And for all of those who may not remember all of the details that surrounded that mid-90s run, but love the game of baseball and the Cleveland Indians and everything their success means to the city and knows just how sweet this summer was and simply want to experience it all over again…
Over the years, as WFNY has trudged along, we’ve published countless essays about enjoying the Indians and the game of baseball with loved ones. Now it’s your turn. What would a win tonight mean for you? Who would be the first person you text when that 27th out is recorded? What would you do in the hours that immediately follow? What does it all mean?
Come this time tomorrow, Cleveland’s story will have another chapter penned and printed, mostly written by those on the outside. Now’s our chance to share what that chapter should truly say. We urge you to use the hours leading up to tonight’s first pitch to think about what a Cleveland Indians victory would mean to you in your own walk of life. We encourage you to take those thoughts and share them with this community, one that may no longer be Waiting For Next Year, but one that can’t wait to continue celebrating all the waiting we have done in addition to the patience exhibited by those closest to us.
From all of us at WFNY, Roll Tribe.
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Scene: Hickory Hoosiers locker room before State Championship.
Me: “I want to win this one for my mom, she was born the same year that they last won the WS, and has always said she would not live to see another one. When I was growing up, the Indians were always on the radio, and she has followed them to this point. She will love this win.”
– Someone starts slow clap.
I’ll start:
I spent many weekends in lines at local malls, waiting for autographs from guys like Carlos Santana and Sandy Alomar. I collected the balls from McDonalds, the ones with faces of Lofton and Belle and the like. The game of baseball was a part of me from Age 5 until today, playing at various levels (softball included) against various teams, creating memories with teammates and family. My parents spent countless nights up at the local fields, hauling me and my two sisters to our games. Sometimes they’d have to divide and conquer as games would overlap. Our summers were baseball.
My family had season tickets for a very long time—prime seats, roughly five rows back from the bay the umpires walk through to access the field. I’ve sat in front of scouts. But those tickets were eventually sold as the games became less enjoyable and my parents’ priorities changed from items of obligation to items of enjoyment. They’d give up their portion of the season ticket package right around the time the team traded Victor Martinez, instead using the money to buy a boat, thus spending more time with their kids and grandkids.
My youngest daughter, Hannah, is going to be four years old this December. Every game that’s on the television—football, basketball, or baseball—she points and exclaims “Indians!” Some 15 minutes away are my parents, living in the same house I grew up in, the very one which had to have so many windows replaced after my wayward attempts at practicing pitching would end with the crash of a ball going through glass. They never did get their tickets back, but they’re once again invested emotionally, living through every pitch. Hannah has no clue what’s going on, but she humors me for a few minutes at a time, knowing that her good graces will land her a juice box or an extra trip to her bag of Halloween candy.
I’ll be there tonight, soaking in the entire atmosphere of Game 7 knowing that generations which serve as my bookends will be living through the same. It’ll mean a little bit more to my parents than my now three-year-old, but to know that we can all say we were a part of this journey some time down the road—that’s pretty damn special.
As a female cartoonist in a male-dominated field that’s pretty much dying and pays very little…….
As a kid growing up during the generation of “you can be anything you want to be”…..
As an adult going paycheck to paycheck in my field of study, in a dwindling economy, with nowhere to move upwards…
As a wife to a guy who was laid off 10 years ago and is bouncing from one benefit-less contract job to another….
As an idealist who refused to “grow up” and become cynical and accepting of my fate….
….It would be extremely comforting to know that big money doesn’t always win and that hardworking underdogs who believe in each other still have a shot in this world.
If we win, I’m going to take a beer and a Tribe pennant to my Dad’s grave. I’ll plant the pennant in the ground and take a sip, and then I’ll pour Dad a sip and I’ll tell him all about it until the bottle is gone. Then I’ll leave smiling.
Let’s start by saying I was extremely grateful and proud that the Cavaliers won the championship this summer. But I used the watch the Indians with my father and older sister back in the days they were on WJW. I had a poster of Boog Powell in his human blood clot all-red uniform on my wall. I love all my Cleveland teams (even the Browns) but the Indians are my team.
I was actually happy with the 1995 and 1997 clubs just being there. Being American League champions meant more to me than World Series champions, but what else did I know back then? I’ve always felt picked on by the other fans of the other teams at large and while what those 25 guys do has nothing really to do with me, for a while the Tribe winning it all would make me feel bulletproof, as I do now where the Cavs are concerned.
I will be disappointed if they don’t win tonight, just as I was in 1995 and 1997. But I am very proud of this group of young men and what they have accomplished against ridiculous odds.
That said, let’s win the whole damned thing anyway.
I usually don’t like this type of thing, as it leads to weepy, icky, “let’s have a cry” things. But mine is more business like.
As a kid I invested untold hours watching dog crap players going through the motions. Totally believed management/ownership happy-talk that if so-and-so can just do this, we “have a chance to compete.” All lies. They knew it – they barely made payroll week to week and traded players who would command more. But little me got excited when they were just 5 games under .500 on July 4th and just 8 games out of first place. Rooted for Frank Duffy, Buddy Bell, Jose Cardenal, David Clyde (who was ready to fulfill the promise that Texas ruined!), whomever. It was all a lie, a tax write off.
A win tonight would be payback to me and thousands of kids like me, transistors to ears in dark bedrooms while Herb Score gave 20 second long pauses on the broadcast from the west coast trip, because he knew few listened or maybe just because he was Herb. The Dolans would pay me and my ilk back for the crimes of Vernon Stouffer and Alva (“Ted”) Bonda, and the Estate of Steve O’Neill. The debt came with the franchise and its legacy. The owners loge ain’t free even after the check clears, gentlemen. Win tonight and I call it square, my youth and idealism for one trophy.
Whaddya say, boys?
I’ve never really thought about it in depth but the Indians are such an enormous part of my families’ (plural possessive) collective lives.
My mom especially was born and raised to be an Indians/Browns fan. She tells stories of sneaking into the dog pound with her brothers loaded down with Coors light cans up and down their jackets. Tales of pounding the bleachers in Municipal stadium with 500ish other attendees at the Indians.
On the flipside is my wife’s family. My mother-in-law has her own tales of 10-cent beer night. Attending both the heart breaking World Series games from the nineties. Bonding with her aging father. My father-in-law is an encyclopedia of names of players I barely remember (if at all) from the 70s and 80s. He has a basement full of Indians memorabilia (including a ball signed by all of the Indians ROYs). This passion was handed down to my wife and sister-in-law.
For me personally, I remember vividly going to Municipal Stadium and getting loaded up on free O’Henry bars, baseball bats (real lumber), mitts, helmets, neon-colored hats that were cool at the time. I remember following the usher when they walked up the aisle between innings to get another 3-5 rows closer to the action. I remember my first playoff game ever in 2007 against the Yankees (not the midge game) and feeling the energy buzzing through the stadium, rising as one at the crack of the bat. I also remember 2013, the building buzzing with energy but forced to sit on our hands and watch helplessly as Danny Salazar imploded on the mound and our offense wilted.
After this year I can add to those memories: Proposing to my wife during fireworks last summer, our wedding reception this year in the party suite, sitting front row behind home plate for Tyler’s walkoff in the parker, Game 1 of the ALDS in the lower bowl, Game 1 of the ALCS in the last row of the upper bleachers (pounding on the wall, stomping on the bench so loud that John Adam’s couldn’t be heard 20 feet away) and now Game 1 of the World Series in the upper deck.
I guess I am blessed but damn it would mean the world to me and mine if we could man up and take this thing.
PS: Sorry for the train of thought rambling.
There are two possible outcomes tonight, so I have two likely reactions:
WIN – Relief, excitement, joy, running down the street screaming, all the good things. It will mean that we have the greatest manager of all time, who can overcome all the aforementioned adversity this club has faced and take down the juggernaut of this year’s MLB.
LOSE – Sad, but really happy with what they accomplished. I read the Castro article about how he thinks this will be added to the pile of prior unaccomplishments. I disagree. When the Cavs won I said everything else for the next 20-30 years is gravy, and I still agree. Yes, I want to win this one because we’re here, but we got a championship this year! WE DID! And I hate to lose, but losing to a 108 year old drought is also ok.
good post NP
I got so much stuff going on in my head right now, if I tried to write it down it would very much resemble one of RGB’s gifs.
I’ll be there tonight. Upper deck, first base side. 1 more, just 1 more.
My Dad will be the first person I think of. I became a baseball fan because of him. We played catch in our back yard, and he was my little league coach. He took me to see the team play at the old stadium. We went to a doubleheader at the end of the 59 season, which was our last year of contention until 94. We dropped both and I was crushed. When Mesa was on the mound in 97 ready to close it out, I had the phone in hand ready to call my Dad and share the joy. He passed away a few years ago, but thoughts of him will be front and center tonight if we win.
I have been lucky enough to follow in his footsteps – 4 sons, and coached all of them in little league, and one even in high school summer leagues. My first WS game was also theirs. With 2 of them getting married this year, soon it will be time for me to help teach a grandchild the fundamentals of how to throw and catch a ball.
I also share Harv’s view from a business-fan perspective. I followed those terrible 60’s, 70’s and 80’s teams closely. All summer events were accompanied by the game on the radio.
I am past being devastated when we lose – too much life experience – but I truly enjoy this team, and love this game.
My Dad has watched them his whole life. He saw a lot of bad teams and loved the run in the 90s. I hope they win this for him. He’s the most dedicated fan I know.
Man, you got me pulled into the nostalgia. Growing up…we were out in the sticks, my brother and I in the yard with a long extension cord and a crappy radio listening to Herb Score…playing ball in the yard. My days were mid to late 80s…Corey Snyder, Joe Carter, Swindell, CandyMan, etc….
I don’t have the mindset to type this out in any good form prior to tonight’s game. But, the good thing is I’ve hit on this topic in the past.
Here’s my Dad’s 60th Birthday game recap:
https://waitingfornextyear.com/2016/04/indians-mariners-cody-allen-mike-napoli/
And, here is his comment from that post:
This is Dad Bode. I was wearing my Dad’s hats during the game today.
That would be Mike’s Grandpa. Sadly, he died last year. So I have to
carry on his tradition. Now, this is a guy who watched Bob Feller pitch.
And experienced the Indians winning the World Series. Every spring he
would say, ” This could be the year!” So I leave you with one thought:
THIS COULD BE THE YEAR!
Growing up baseball was always king my house. Sure we had the Browns and the Cavs but for some reason the Tribe was always the top dog. I think this goes back to my grandfather who was the main patriarch in the family played college baseball and coached one of the first Ohio teams to make it to the little league world series. He was first and foremost a coach and naturally a sports junkie. Season tickets were eventually part of the fold starting in 1994 when the Tribe moved to Jacob’s Field. Being a younger kid the mere thought of season ticket’s was something that “rich people” had and I was baffled and incredibly excited to what that meant for me. I got to go to more games then I should have and got the chance to go to playoff games in 95′ and 97′.
Looking back I now realize that this was his time to coach me. A couple of hours in the car and a few hours at a ball game to talk to me, check in and to see how things were going. Baseball was his vehicle to make that happen. Naturally I didn’t truly appreciate it at the time but now I get it.
I never truly got to thank him before he was gone for dedicating that time to me when I was younger. In a way I feel like the emotion and the excitement that I am feeling from this World Series is my thank you since he was such a big part of my fandom for this team. I am able to look back and remember things that I never would have spent time on if this team wasn’t in the spot that they’re in.
The Cavs win was epic but this one feels different and the last month has been incredible. I’ll be disappointed if we lose but either way I believe this Tribe playoff run has already served it’s purpose for me ten fold. What a time to be alive and Roll Tribe!
Writing about game 7 and the Cleveland Indians before its played touches on a load of stuff.
First is about family. It would mean so much to my father who was around for 48, but his dad went solo to one of the games at the Muni. He did make it to the 1995 series in person and a game in the ALCS in 97. I’m lucky to have him and we’ll be talking on the phone after its over if they can get that win (and complaining and second guessing if not–its what a fan does).
There’s also my own personal fulfillment if they could win it. I grew up on the decrepit 70s Indians, but I was too young to know what futile rosters they assembled so I rooted as hard for those bum teams as I did the 90s studs. In that era it was only a fantasy to know the feeling at the top of the standings (you’d only experience that on the rare chance they won the season opener which usually they did not), much less be in the postseason. One week into april they’d be in 5th to 7th place. In those days, an appearance of some random Tribe bullpen guy on an all star team was a thrill just to see ONE tribe uniform in the bigger limelight. When the nineties Indians won their first division title, I can’t explain how it felt..but I’ll try. Felt great to no longer be a loser. That era made division championships fairly regular business, and it changed my personal outlook. What the Cavs did took that higher and did something else beyond just getting the title.
The Cavs give us all a chance to exorcise the inner demon we were infested with for years, that I call “The Fear”. There was a time when we didn’t have The Fear. For me it was Red Right 88— I EXPECTED the Browns to win with no fear. I was shocked and changed by it, then those other in the series of “The THES” gave us the fear like a virus.
Game 7 is the ultimate test… Do we still carry the fear or not. I’m trying to let go of it. The result on the field will be decided on the field—we’ll be nervous that’s normal, but I want to experience this ride with no fear. Like a Rollercoaster. Enjoy the ride. Even if it derails and you wind up splattered on the sidewalk. But maybe not!
we need to grab a beer, t.
Thanks, tb. I know that might sound a bit hackneyed, but every word is true.
He was a great man.
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