A great tailgate with friends sometimes becomes more important than the game, especially when the team is losing. As much as I love all the teams, the Indians always have had a special place for me. I didn't go to my first Browns game until college. I remember going to a few Cavs games at Richfield Coliseum, mainly to cheer for my favorite player, Bingo Smith. The Indians though, they were a different story.
|My Johnny Grubb bat from 1977ish.|
|This isn't MY Huffy, but it looks like it. Powder blue, rainbows and denim. Stylish.|
Every game my dad took me to was treasured quality time. He would show me how to keep score in the program with a stubby little pencil. We would chat about my love of Joe Charboneau and how I wanted to be the first tom-tom girl. Keep in mind kids, this was before everyone was on the web. There were no cell phones, instagram, facebook, twitter or text messages. That in mind, I thought John Adams worked for the Indians and he had the best job on the planet. I had no idea he was a super fan. Usually after the first hot dog I would deluge my dad with questions on how the drummer guy got such an awesome gig. I would then ask if my dad thought I could do it...being the first girl at it and all.
He always told me yes. I could do anything I wanted he would tell me. Then, I would run off and take a nap on top of the dugout. Yes, I actually did that. It was against the Blue Jays.
As an adult, even though I lived states away, I would always make it home to go to a few games with my dad. Some things have changed. Now, I pay. We only eat one hot dog now instead of having a contest. There is no more finding the perfect seat (ok, I still do that, but now I wait until the 3rd inning. You snooze, you lose). But the most important thing that hasn't changed is the quality time I spend with my pop.
Cleveland sports are more than a schedule of games. The teams are intertwined with our lives as Clevelanders. Let's embrace them for everything they give outside of the win/loss column. I know I do.
Two days until I leave for Indians Spring Training...not that I am counting...
|Bob Feller playing catch with his son.|