Friday, October 5, 2007
I did everything I could to tell myself the Tribe was going to get trounced by the Yankees and that I shouldn't get my hopes up - but after watching their 12-3 win last night I am in full-on man-crush mode. I have never seen a team have as much fun as this team - from Barfield giving Garko cheap shots in the kidney at every chance to Trot Nixon hitting people in the face with a pie after every game (side-note - thats the ONLY thing Trot has hit all year). When Wedge shaved off his mustache I thought this team was doomed - but much like Casey Blake's beard this team fought through some ugly outings and looks ready to kick some ass.
It is amazing how much sports can comsume a city. I have friends from back home (Delphos) who made the 3-hour drive to go to the game last night, drove home to work today and are making the drive AGAIN today for the game. Another college friend is braving the traffic (compounded by a Maroon 5 concert downtown) just to meet up and party in the post-game atmosphere - she isn't even GOING to the game. Personally, this will be my 18th game attended this season, I have watched well over 120 games on tv and have spent a sizeable percentage of my salary on Indians games / apparel. Beyond the monetary costs - the costs of my social life have been astounding - from spending so much time glued to a TV, or sitting in the corner of the bar cursing while most guys are getting phone numbers. I went on a date ealier this year that began at a fancy restaurant and ended at the Harbor Inn so we could watch the last few innings. I have gotten goosebumps three times before 11am today thinking about the game. I honestly can't remember the last time I cried, but if the Tribe somehow pulls this off I can promise you tears.
I can't explain why. I have no idea why a loss can ruin my mood - or why I still yell "Asshole!" at every Yankees fan I see. Maybe it is the camaraderie; maybe it is just to have something to talk to strangers about besides the weather - and maybe, Bob Costas is on to something with his constant "magic of sports" rants. All I know is that when the 9th inning hits and I am sitting in Pronkville, my voice having left me four innings earlier, with 40,000 friends chanting and cheering: all that goddamn time and effort is going to be worth it. Unless we lose. Then Fuck the Yankees.