The Oberlin Review
<< Front page Sports October 13, 2007

Rolling Back the Years

The Cleveland Indians are winning again in the postseason. It has been a six-year drought since their last playoff appearance and nine since their last series win, but they have finally given their beloved fans something to talk about other than their sub-par performances.

With Oberlin’s close proximity to Jacobs Field, it feels as if Indian fever has taken over the campus. Hats, t-shirts and jackets have become more prominent, while excited discussions about attending Game 4 in Cleveland have replaced the usual midterm jargon. Stories of junior baseball player and die-hard Indian (and Oberlin men’s soccer) fan Brian Verne nearly coming to tears after the Tribe blew Game 3 against the Yankees, have also passed through the grapevine.

As a West Coaster from a city that has no Major League Baseball team, I have grown to follow the Seattle Mariners and the San Francisco Giants. As the Mariners failed to squeeze out a wildcard berth and the Giants focused more on Barry Bond’s new home run record than winning games, I have followed this year’s postseason fairly apathetically. But Cleveland’s handling of the Yankees has not only brought them back onto my radar, but also reminded me of the golden years during the mid-‘90s when I loved the Indians.

I used to only follow the Indians. Sure, in 1995 Ken Griffey Jr., Randy Johnson, Alex Rodriguez and Edgar Martinez were the backbone of a talented Mariners team just several hours north of me, but my heart lay in Cleveland. Few teams could match the Indians’ talented lineup of Jim Thome, Kenny Lofton, Manny Ramirez and Carlos Baerga. Few could contend with a pitching staff led by Charles Nagy, Orel Hershiser and the infamous Jose Mesa. And few had an x-factor equivalent to Albert Belle, whose memorable hunched-over batting stance brought him 50 homeruns.

Today I can hardly watch a full baseball game without becoming somewhat disinterested, but when I was a little fourth grader, I anxiously awaited the chilly October evenings so I could watch the Indians. Sitting in a chair in the living room next to a roaring fire, I watched every pitch intently through the large lenses of my flatly shaped glasses. When there were breaks in the action, I took my miniature wooden baseball bat and practiced imitating the swings of all my favorite Cleveland players, particularly Belle. You could say my infatuation with the Indians lasted until Belle left for the White Sox in 1997 (although I eventually lost interest).

It was a sad time in the Mullaley house when the Indians lost to the Atlanta Braves in the 1995 World Series, four games to two. It took me a while to get over this deep pain, but I looked toward the 1996 season with optimism. When they bowed out in the first round to the Baltimore Orioles and then Albert Belle was traded, I started to lose interest in Cleveland. A trip to the World Series again in 1997 with a different squad could not renew my previous love for Cleveland. That 1995 team was one of a kind. As the years went by, those glorious Cleveland days slowly faded away. I was not into baseball as much and I only caught Baseball Tonight on ESPN every once in awhile.

Things changed this year, though. If you’ve been in Ohio for a long period of time, people’s infatuation with Ohio sports teams start to rub off on you. Therefore, when I found out that Cleveland advanced to the playoffs, I started pulling for the team again because deep down, I had always wanted it to win a ring.

As Manny Ramirez returns to Cleveland next week, Indian fans should not forget his contribution to a memorable part of the franchise’s history. But one should not dwell on the past. I have realized that while those years that I loved the Indians are long gone — and so too are the years of a much simpler life — a new Indians team is catching the state and nation by storm. This could be its year.

Go Indians.


 
 
   

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