He threw it to me of all people. Maybe it was my red cap with the letter “I” on it or my jersey, buttoned tight against my stomach, that boasted a portrait of Chief Wahoo across the chest. Or maybe it was the way my red and blue stood out in the sea of black and white and my gaping, toothy smile was louder than any shout; it was my arm that beckoned forcefully for the ball or my eyes that begged.
I was so surprised that I almost dropped it back on the field. I attributed their loss in the next inning to my fumbling of the ball. If I had caught it cleanly. If I had contained my excitement.
I had been told the story of “if”s since I was young, sitting with my grandfather in his TV room.
“If the Indians could just hit the ball.”
“If they could stop it with the careless errors.”
“If they could just get a sensible manager!”
A manager! …show more content…
There is something powerful in the common struggle of believers, that in the face of being neglected and getting so close just to fail, time and again, there is an unbreakable bond of shared history. That the more Cleveland is dismissed, the stronger our commitment gets, the more Cleveland gear we buy, the more games we go to, and the surer we become that this is the year. There grows this ridiculous, unfounded confidence in a team that has little history of success. Hope against all odds.
Sports may seem superficial in the grand scheme of things, but my passion is not just for the game. It is for pride in a community that is marginalized, staying loyal to it, proving unbelievers wrong.
It is this approach that, since I was old enough to say “Go Tribe!”, has governed much more than my sports life, which is why it is always confusing to people why I am so dedicated to Cleveland.
I was so surprised that I almost dropped it back on the field. I attributed their loss in the next inning to my fumbling of the ball. If I had caught it cleanly. If I had contained my excitement.
I had been told the story of “if”s since I was young, sitting with my grandfather in his TV room.
“If the Indians could just hit the ball.”
“If they could stop it with the careless errors.”
“If they could just get a sensible manager!”
A manager! …show more content…
There is something powerful in the common struggle of believers, that in the face of being neglected and getting so close just to fail, time and again, there is an unbreakable bond of shared history. That the more Cleveland is dismissed, the stronger our commitment gets, the more Cleveland gear we buy, the more games we go to, and the surer we become that this is the year. There grows this ridiculous, unfounded confidence in a team that has little history of success. Hope against all odds.
Sports may seem superficial in the grand scheme of things, but my passion is not just for the game. It is for pride in a community that is marginalized, staying loyal to it, proving unbelievers wrong.
It is this approach that, since I was old enough to say “Go Tribe!”, has governed much more than my sports life, which is why it is always confusing to people why I am so dedicated to Cleveland.