DD sports posts:
–Trip Notes: The Redemption, The Comeback, The Renaissance, The Chasedown, The Block, The Shot Part 2, The Tearjerker; Call It What You Want But This Was A Night To Remember
–Can The Cavs End Cleveland’s Curse?
–Better Than Any First Class Suite…Taking My Son To His First Ballgame
–Trip Notes: Hall Of Fame Trifecta And Fenway Park In 72 Hours
–Trip Notes: A Father & Son Day Trip To Chicago For A Ballgame And A DO
–Stealing 2nd Base: My Coolest Use Of Miles Ever?
–My First Non-Travel Mileage Redemption
–Take Me Out To The Ballgame…Buy Me Some Kosher Chili And Ribs.
–Manny Being Manny…
What a year it’s been in Cleveland.
It seems like just yesterday that I flew to San Francisco with JJ to witness the first Cleveland sports championship of my lifetime.
I took my then 4 year old son to the parade along with my grandfather. How could Rafi possibly comprehend how long his hometown had waited for the moment? Well, other than the 1,300,000 people who jammed the city as never before…
And yet, it all felt slightly bittersweet. You see, as much as I loved the euphoria and the high that the city was on, my heart wished it was the Tribe. Baseball has always been my true sports love. I’ll always remember my first baseball game. My maternal grandfather took me to Cleveland’s Municipal Stadium on 6/28/92 where we saw the Indians beat the Blue Jays 7-6. There’s just something magical about the sport with no buzzer. There’s something magical about the sport that can be enjoyed while sitting under the stars without the in your face show that the NBA is. And as a millennial growing up in Cleveland, the 90s were all about the Tribe, and they’ll always have a special place in my heart.
In 1995 my parents took us to Toronto to stay in the Westin Harbour Castle where the Indians stayed. As a 10 year old there I got nearly the entire team’s autographs and even got free tickets to the game from Manny Ramirez when we held the elevator for him.
Later that year I sent in hundreds of postcards and won tickets to watch the ’95 World Series. At the time I didn’t fully appreciate how rare it would be. And that was despite my grandfather warning me that my own uncles had never seen a Cleveland sports championship.
1997 was the most painful. I screamed during game 7 when Mike Hargrove put in a struggling Jose Mesa to close out the game in the bottom of the 9th and I just may have cried when we blew it. Yes I know there’s no crying in baseball, but my grandfather was just 9 when the Indians last won it all. Wasn’t it time for everyone else to have that chance?
It took 19 years, but the Indians are back on the big stage.
Nobody predicted this. Not after losing Brantley due to injury. Not after losing Salazar due to injury. Not after losing Carrasco to injury. Not after Bauer sliced open his finger building a drone during the playoffs! And not with a minor-league pitcher starting in a pennant clinching game.
And yet, somehow, someway, against all odds, this ballclub has prevailed.
So here comes one final roller coaster. 4 more wins. Can Cleveland pull it off again?