America's Pastime

"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again. Oh, people will come, Ray. People will most definitely come." -- Actor James Earl Jones, talking to Ray Kinella, played by Kevin Costner, in the movie "Field of Dreams"

You can hear James Earl Jones' booming voice in that quote. If you really want to see me sob like a little girl, all you really need to do is make me watch this movie. It never fails. I guess what I miss most about being away from home is being able to play catch with either my father or brother. And really, I guess that's why Ray goes to the trouble of building a ball diamond over valuable crop land at a time when he is desperately struggling to make ends meet. Ray wanted to play a game of catch. Ray's father shows up as a ghost. They play catch, and I start to cry. Life is hard sometimes.

At any rate, the Indians are in first place in the AL wild card race over the hated Yankees by a full game (5.5 games back of the dreaded White Sox in the AL central after gaining 9 games on them since August 1st). It's September, the season is winding down, and the Indians are contending again. No one in Cleveland seems to care. Home attendance is still hovering around the 20,000 mark. I guess after selling out a Major League record 455 some odd home games in a row, you can give the hometown support a break for awhile. When that streak began, the Indians were entering a new ballpark and were good for the first time in nearly 40 years.

More people show up for a Browns practice during the off-season. What's the great attraction there, Trent Dilfer?

The old Cleveland Municipal Stadium (read: Mistake by the Lake, seating capacity of 78,000) remains in my memory a hallowed ground. The former home of both the Browns and Indians, the stadium bespoke a time marked by remarkable industrial prowess in the city of Cleveland. The factories of that era are, of course, long gone. The imposing steel girders which would oftentimes block a fan's view of the playing field bespoke of a time when you didn't need a plenitude of distractions and bright lights to keep a fan entertained. Seats angled towards home plate? You wouldn't have seen any of that bull honkey here. But if that weren't enough to keep me wanting to come back, there was always Cleveland's own Stadium Mustard. This spicy condiment, slathered on a hot dog in a bun is quintessential Cleveland baseball.

Of course, when I knew the old stadium, I was much younger. I was at an age when baseball was the biggest thing out there. I vaguely remember the first game I went to. It was just me and my dad. Roger Clemens led the Red Sox into town and absolutely beat the Indians senseless. John Farrel pitched that game for the Tribe and gave up a couple of homers. The Red Sox were still wearing those old gray jerseys with "Boston" written across the chest in black block-letters. It was a day game and a beautiful day at that. The moment that hit me, as an impressionable youth, was emerging from the bowels of the stadium to enter the section where we were seated. The sensation of going from dark into light with Stadium Mustard dog in hand is an incredible one, especially when the backdrop is of an expansive green field where ballplayers are stretching and warming up in preparation for a game. Can you imagine the luxury...batting practice with clean, white balls on a real Major League field?

Those were the days of Brook Jacoby, Jerry Browne, Chris James, Sergio Valdez, Rudy Seanez, Cory Snyder, Tom Candiotti, Bud Black, Greg Swindell...

Wow, they sucked a lot.

The Tribe was my first love.