Pain …

Posted: October 21st, 2007 | Filed under: Baseball, Cleveland | 38 Comments »

Friends will tell you that I’m an optimistic person by nature. It’s true. I keep buying REM albums even though I haven’t liked any of them since Automatic for the People. I am not afraid to drive with the low-gas warning light on because I believe that a gas station will emerge when I really need one. I lost an iPod and a 2000 Olympic watch in a New York hotel room like three years ago, and I still feel sure I will find them someday. I believe in my heart that someday everyone in America will have health insurance, someone will invent a car that can drive itself and a weight-loss diet made up of fries, pasta and chocolate cake, and the the Royals will win. Someday.

And yet, all day Sunday, I knew that Cleveland was going to lose to Boston in Game 7. I knew it. This wasn’t about optimism or pessimism or any other ism. This wasn’t paranoia. I knew it like I know the sound of my youngest daughter’s crying. There was never even the slightest doubt in my mind. We’ve been here before, us Clevelanders. We’ve lived with Cleveland sports pain for 40-plus years now, and we know the telltale signs. We all have HM — Heartbreak Meters — mine was growling on Sunday.

“How do you feel about tonight?” I emailed my hero Scott Raab during the day. This is one thing we do when the HM starts raging. We reach out to other Clevelanders for a little hope. Scott may be significantly more cynical than me about any number of things, but he believes in the Indians. Hell, the guy’s got Wahoo tattooed on his arm.

“I feel confident in the Tribe’s chances tonight,” he wrote back. “I truly do.”

I appreciated him saying that. It didn’t help though. I still knew the Indians were going to lose. I knew it. I felt it throughout my body.

So the defeat was certain. The only thing that I wondered — and I wondered this all night Saturday and all day Sunday — was this: How would the fates get me this time? How would they trick me into believing?

There’s a story I once heard (don’t ask me where or when) about a Rabbi who was trying to cheat death. I’ll probably get the details wrong, but I guess there’s some sort of old Jewish legend that death cannot take you when you are in the midst of praying. So this Rabbi somehow found out what day he was supposed to die, and he spent the whole day praying so that the Angel of Death could not get him.

Well, it worked for a while. The Angel of Death kept trying to grab the Rabbi, but he kept on praying. Thing is, you don’t get promoted to Angel of Death without knowing a few tricks. So AOD called for the Rabbi to come outside. The Rabbi, hearing his name called, walked outside — praying all the way — then he walked down some stairs, only the Angel of Death had removed one of the stairs. The Rabbi slipped, he stopped praying for that instant, and the Angel of Death got him.

All of which is a long way of saying, I kept wondering how the Dark Angel of Cleveland Sports was going to get me this time. Because I came into the game determined not to fall for things this time around. I wasn’t going to let another Cleveland team break my heart. Not a chance. When I was 20, sure, I was vulnerable then, and I clearly remember sitting on the floor in our living room, nose inches away from our 19-inch color TV (colors included blue and yellow, maybe something resembling red) and watching Brian Brennan (or as Don Criqui called him, “The-undersized-overachieving-wide-receiver-from-Boston-College-Brian-Brennan”) pull down a pass from Bernie Kosar and then pull away from his defender, run into the end zone, touchdown, Browns led 20-13 in the wind and cold at Cleveland Municipal Stadium. The Broncos muffed and fumbled around with the ensuing kickoff and ended up with the ball at their own 2-yard-line.

And I was never so sure of anything in my whole life: The Browns were going to the Super Bowl. It was one of the five happiest moments of my life — if, you know, you could freeze that moment right there. Which you can’t.

Then, of course, John Elway drove the field, the game went into overtime, Denver’s Rich Karlis kicked the game-winning field goal (that even now, 20 years later, I KNOW was wide left) and I silently and unwillingly promised myself that I would never, ever get my hopes up again for a Cleveland sports team.

The very next year, the Browns and Broncos played in the AFC Championship again, and I knew the Browns were going to lose, I knew it, and this time the Broncos more or less dominated the game from the start. So it was easy to just sit back and mope about the fate of being a sports fan born in Cleveland. At least they hadn’t broken my heart.

Only then, stunningly, unexpectedly, the Browns started to come back. It’s quite a thing when your team surprises you. They came all the way back, and they were about to score the game tying touchdown, and (I couldn’t help it) hope returned, that feeling came back, the Browns really were going to the Super Bowl this time …

Then Ernest Byner fumbled going into the end zone, and I went into a depression coma. I kicked myself for a whole year after that for allowing myself to get fooled again.

And so on. It was always the same thing. I knew the Cleveland teams would lose. And yet, something always happened during the games that would cause me to drop my hands and take yet another right-cross to the chin. That wasn’t going to happen Sunday. No. I’m a grown man now, kids of my own, a lawn that needs to be cut, and I KNEW the Indians were going to lose, so, move on. Two friends I greatly admire — Bill James and Allard Baird — work for the Red Sox. I would try to be happy for them.

Then the Red Sox took the 3-0 lead early off of Jake Westbrook, and I almost smiled to myself. “This is too easy,” I thought. “The Cleveland fates aren’t even bringing their A game.” I suspected the Red Sox would pull away to a huge victory, and I just wasn’t going to get worked up about it. I’m proud to be from Cleveland. It’s a real city with real people. Losing sports just happens to be the cross we bear.

And then … well, you know what happened. The Indians started showing some backbone that, frankly, I did not think they had (maybe this was because C.C. Sabathia was nowhere near the mound). Westbrook toughened up. Ryan Garko had a terrific at-bat and he whacked a bomb high off the wall near center field. The score tightened up to 3-2.

And then Boston — unbeatable, untouchable, unshakeable Boston — blinked. With one out in the seventh, Red Sox shortstop Julio Lugo dropped a pop-up. Flat dropped it. Kenny Lofton limped/jogged/strutted into second. A Cleveland friend of mine instant messaged me immediately: “That’s how you lose Game 7s.” He was right. The Red Sox suddenly looked a little shaky. The crowd suddenly looked a little nervous. And that was my missing step. I started to believe. It was an impulse. It was an involuntary reaction. Cleveland’s Franklin Gutierrez ripped a ball down the left field line. FAIR BALL! A run scores. It’s tied up. I’m off the chair. I’m wondering if Gutierrez reached second. And then I look up …

Lofton was still at third base.

I kept blinking and looking back at the television, like maybe there was something in my eye, maybe a speck of dust that looked exactly like Kenny Lofton. But no, it was real, Lofton was still at third base. It was not even remotely possible. How did that happen? They showed a replay. And it was just like I saw live. Gutierrez whacked a ball down the third base line. It was fair. Definitely fair. And the ball whacked off a signboard or something, rolled into left field and the run scor … oh no.

Oh no.

Third base coach Joel Skinner held him up.

Then they showed it from another angle. And another angle. But no matter what angle they showed it from — and no matter how much I WANTED to see something else — Joel Skinner kept on holding up Kenny Lofton at third base. Now, from what I can tell, Joel Skinner is a good man. I sort of liked him as a player — as much as you can like a light-hitting backup catcher — and I’ve always heard good things about him as a coach. But when you hold up the tying run at third base in the seventh inning of Game 7 with MannyBeingManny still chasing the ball, well, here’s what I instant messaged my friend instantly …

Sipe. Byner. Ehlo. Fernandez. Skinner.

If you’re from Cleveland (or read my oppressively long email about being a Cleveland fan) you know that list. It’s like the Cleveland most wanted. It hurt to put Skinner in that group. But not as much as it hurt watching the play itself. Another baseball writer emailed me to argue that it wasn’t so clear cut — that Manny might have thrown out Lofton at the plate. I think he was just baiting me. It’s clear from every replay that Manny would not even have thrown home (I liked MBM’s quote after the game, actually: “I would have thrown it to the cutoff man and let him deal with it.”)

Anyway, after the replays, I felt that feeling in the pit of my stomach again. Heartbreak. The fates had gotten me again. Damn them. Of course Casey Blake immediately hit into the double play. Of course Blake followed that with an error (how often do you see it) which was followed by Dustin Freaking Pedroia’s home run over the monster, which was followed by a complete and utter collapse by the Indians. Of course. Of course. And no one can talk to a horse, of course.

I’m not saying Cleveland wins the game if Lofton scores. I have nothing logical to stand on there. They Indians were outscored 30-5 the last three games. They got to the brink of the World Series and then suddenly they were not ready for prime time. I don’t know if it would have made any difference if Lofton scores.

All I know is Lofton didn’t score. He was held up. Incredible.

After the game ended, I sat slumped in my chair and tried to feel happy for Bill and Allard. I wasn’t too successful, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. Then I got another email from my man Scott. It was a condolence email, the kind Cleveland sports fans have become used to sending. It ended like so:

“I think I’ll continue weeping now.”

38 Comments on “Pain …”

  1. 1: C. Trent Rosecrans said at 5:17 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    dude, new adventures in hi-fi is vastly underrated and monster holds up better than expected — but i’m not big on anything post-bill berry

  2. 2: C. Trent Rosecrans said at 5:18 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    oh, and i’ve enjoyed the new live album, too

  3. 3: Trieu said at 5:42 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    My condolences. That was a beautiful post. I’m a Red Sox fan and I can empathize with your pain. In fact, reading it gave me flashbacks to the 2003 ALCS. As you know, the Boston Most Wanted list is long and includes Grady Little. And it’s so very strange reading a piece in which the Red Sox play the role of the vanquishers. All I can say is that prior to 2004, I felt the exact same pain about the Sox. Perhaps 2007 is Cleveland’s 2003 and 2008 will be your 2004. (Note: If that turns out to be the case, I hope it’s not exactly parallel, for obvious reasons.)

  4. 4: Joel said at 6:00 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    My shock that Lofton remained at third quickly gave way to numbness in the bottom of the seventh when Blake misplayed the ball. That he turned and watched it roll away in disbelief was sign enough that the team had its collective heart ripped out in the top of the seventh. Unfortunately for us Clevelanders all our hearts were ripped out right along with theirs, too.

  5. 5: Minda said at 6:06 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    I can see why you held on to hope that you had a speck of dust shaped exactly like Kenny Lofton in your eye. Happens to me all the time.

    I’m sorry your team lost, Joe. Maybe next year?

  6. 6: Elton said at 7:07 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    DAMN. As a fellow Cleveland sports fan, I’m wondering if I’ll ever live to see the sweet relief of a championship, in any sport, ever, even if I somehow learn how to pray constantly and become immortal (even though I’m not Jewish). Damn.

  7. 7: M.J. said at 7:45 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    As a Red Sox fan, I can only say that your time will come someday, sooner than later. And when it does, all the pain will have been worth it.

    Congrats on a great season. If Shapiro and Co. keep developing their own talent, they will break through eventually.

  8. 8: Steve said at 9:56 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    First thought when I saw that Lofton was inexplicably held at third: “Mistake. It’s Game 7, there’s only one out, you HAVE to force the defense to make a play.”

    Second thought: “Joe’s gonna be pissed.”

  9. 9: Aryeh said at 11:11 am on October 22nd, 2007:

    It was not a Rabbi, it was King David. Story comes from the Babylonian Talmud.

  10. 10: robustyoungsoul said at 12:07 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    “Remember, Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies.”

    Hang in there.

  11. 11: George said at 12:12 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    For what it’s worth, I’m sorry my team broke the hearts of Cleveland fans like yourself. No anger would have been harbored if your team beat us, Cleveland has been deserving of a championship for too long a time. I was raging that the ball was foul, and then I saw Lofton on 3rd. What Skinner did gave us a new break; settling RSN by knowing that one good grounder would save us from that inning. Sox fans, the real ones pre-2004, feel the same as you do. I was scared to see my team doing the same thing all over again in 2003, and Bill Simmons is a liar when he said the Patriots helped us believe it was possible. The Sox are in a much higher level, where you feel like they’ve attached to your heart and if you let them, they can tear it out or keep it there to beat the happy tune of “Dirty Water.” I’ll clap for the Patriots, Bruins, and Celtics, but I’ll cheer with all I can for the Sox. But that only happened in 2004, before that I was tentative. I didn’t live through 1986 (too young to remember), but I remember 1999 and all of the Sox’s “almost-made-its.”

    In 2003, I knew they couldn’t win, they were down against those pinstriped SOBs. There was no way we’d win, and I told that to a friend. He told me, “That’s bullcrap. They CAN win this, it’s only 2 games. You just have to believe.” He persisted with this until I conceded and let that shard of hope glimmer. Then they won Game 6, and I couldn’t believe that it could really happen. We got to a big lead over the Mercenary, and you knew Pedro was going to keep the lead, handing it off to the bullpen and we could celebrate in their house. So I went out with my friend to have some fun, never thinking the worst could happen (I still think it’s my fault for this hubris). I come back, and my Dad tells me the game’s tied. I catch the replays, and I sink. It wasn’t over though. They gave me some more faith when I got to thinking “Rivera has pitched 3 innings, it’s impossible that he’d go another frame. We can get the next reliever, as long as Wake keeps throwing like he is.” Then McCarver makes that “The best pitch to hit a knuckleballer is the first pitch.” And boom. The hurt didn’t stop for a week, I still can recall the pain they caused. But you know what I did the next year? I gave in completely, no apprehensions. There was no doubt in my eyes, no matter how many piled on me that the Sox could not come back. And they really did it, for one of the first things that I’ve had unflinching hope for to come through for me. It was one of the top 3 best moments in my life.

    So Joe, I hope the best for your team and your city. Someday it will happen for you, but you can’t harbor apprehension. It’s the most difficult thing to do, yet if a Red Sox fan can let go of the history, to turn off the Heartbreak meter, a Cleveland fan can.

  12. 12: Brian said at 12:18 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    http://www.shelflifeclothing.com/images/Wahoochoke.jpg

  13. 13: Oddibe said at 12:27 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Joe,

    Sorry that Cleveland lost. I was rooting for them. One thing you left out of your long post about Cleveland heartbreak was how Cory Snyder and Joe Carter were on the cover of the 1987 Sports Illustrated Baseball Issue. They were somehow picked as the favorites to win the World Series that year. Instead, they were horrid in 1987. In ‘86 they had won 84 games and had a ton of hitting talent and some young pitchers like Swindell and Bailes. Also, they were the only AL East team between 1981 and 1986 not to win the division, so I guess they though it was their turn?

    81 – Yankees
    82 – Brewers
    83 – Orioles
    84 – Tigers
    85 – Blue Jays
    86 – Red Sox
    87 – Indians?

    Also, I think the whole Chief Wahoo debate brought on some bad karma. Before the controversial post the Indians were up 3 games to 1 and looked good. After the firestorm? 3 straight losses.

  14. 14: bobestes said at 12:36 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Skinner is a convenient scapegoat, but I was more pissed at Casey Blake, who goes up with one out and only needed to HIT THE BALL TO THE OUTFIELD, swings at the first pitch and meekly grounds into an inning-ending double play.

    Situations like that are what totally piss me off about baseball anymore. No situational awareness whatsoever. Dude goes up there hacking in probably the most important batting situation all season long, and instead of waiting for a pitch he can sac fly on, jumps on the first pitch.

    THAT killed the Indians. Double plays kill teams, and they absolutely rolled over after that.

  15. 15: ajnrules said at 1:48 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Red Sox grounded into 3 double plays and still cruised, but yeah. I think Casey Blake may be the goat last night, because of the double play and the two-base error. And how about when Hafner struck out on three pitches in an easy bunt situation?

    Eh. We had 7 teams in the World Series in 7 years, the third longest such streak in history. I guess we’ve squeezed enough out of it as possible. Looks like the Red Sox are going to be the new Evil Empire.

    Clairvoyance is a scary thing. In the bottom of the 7th I said to a couple of my friends, “I bet the Indians will end up losing 11-2.” And then it happened. :(

  16. 16: Josh said at 1:56 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Sorry, Joe. If it couldn’t have been my team, I wish it had been yours.

    And when Cleveland does win it — and they will — you’ll be the first guy I think of.

  17. 17: Tina said at 1:59 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Joe —

    I watched the game a lot like you did. Now I can’t believe I stayed up for that. So did most of the other parents I saw bringing kids in to school this morning, sad, we-knew-it-all-along looks on our faces, clutching gigantic cups of coffee.

    We knew going into this postseason that hardly anyone on our team was prepared or had any idea what the postseason would be like. And they played like it. Like it was July or something.

    Except dear Kenny Lofton. Who, even though he (clearly) knows better than the coaching staff what needs to be done, is still enough of a team player to give Joel Skinner the benefit of the doubt, and hold up at third, maybe Skinner saw something unusual (like Manny moving faster than a snail). But no. And then when Skinner apparently called him in, Kenny knew it was too late. It’s sad, but not unexpected that his willingness to overrule the third base coach came a split second too late.

    Being a lifelong Clevelander, I even stayed optimistic into the 9th, believe it or not. When Garko reached, I told my husband he’s the go ahead run — once they bat around!

    What we need to do now, is (re)sign Kenny Lofton, if he’s willing. I hope he’s willing.

    And I hear there’s a guy named Joe Torre who’s looking for work. ‘Demote’ Wedge to third base coach, and bring in Torre. Either Wedge will resign in anger, or learn something. And Torre can lead us right on back to the ALCS, where we’ll win.

    Draft Torre!

  18. 18: Zeke said at 2:41 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    I never saw why people went to horror movies. Then I became a Red Sox fan and gradually I understood. Hope springs on slight excuse and is dashed, in ways that seem cruel. Who knew hearts required occasional breaking? Yet it makes the ephemeral good times sweeter.

    It seems being an Indians fan has similar pleasures.

  19. 19: bobestes said at 2:49 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Sabathia and Carmona aren’t ready for primetime, whatsoever. I’m sorry, but if you have a 3-1 series lead and you’re throwing your #1 and #2 starters, you’re supposed to win, no questions asked.

    Casey Blake is just a dumb, dumb ballplayer.

  20. 20: Cliff said at 2:55 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    How come nobody, *nobody*, mentioned the fact that Wedge should have had Blake squeeze bunt Lofton home in that situation? A well-placed bunt ties the game and puts a runner in scoring position for Sizemore. With the possibility of the double-play and the 9-place hitter up and your team eight outs from the end of its season, you have to squeeze there . . . don’t you?

  21. 21: Greg Grant said at 3:12 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Right on, Joe. And I’m finally glad to find someone else who agrees that Rich Karlis’ field goal WAS wide left. Keep fighting the good fight. Someday, it will be us hoisting the trophy and it will be sweet.

  22. 22: SBG said at 3:26 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Manny throwing Lofton out at second right before two more hits didn’t help either. Wait, the call was blown by an ump looking right at it? Oy.

  23. 23: Atlanta Sports Fan said at 3:31 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Cliff–good point. Never thought of that, but it might’ve worked. Of course, I don’t know that Blake bunts that frequently. With 20/20 hindsight, we can obviously say that would’ve worked better, but oh well…

    I was more shocked that Wedge left Betancourt out there so long, when you could tell right off the bat that he didn’t have anything. I also thought it was really classy when Ortiz had his goggles on and jersey off, dancing around the dugout like an idiot long before the game was even over. Classy, Papi.

  24. 24: Game 7 Heartbreak « said at 3:44 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    [...] Joe Posnanski, being a born and raised Clevelander (and an actual writer) describes the game much better than me. [...]

  25. 25: Jay said at 3:48 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Sorry Joe. Great post. As a Bills fan and Sox fan, I half-way feel your pain. It was a tough way to go.

    I’d try to defend Skinner and say that by the time he had to decide to send or hold Lofton the ball had not yet ricocheted so shallow into left, and with one out, maybe you are a little conservative, but that would be grasping. You’ve got to send him.

  26. 26: Chris said at 4:42 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Hey Bobestes – maybe Blake tried to hit a sac fly. Maybe he’s not dumb, but just not perfect at hitting the ball exactly where he wants every time?

  27. 27: Pete Townshend said at 7:27 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Meet the new loss,

    Same as the old loss

    Sorry, couldn’t resist. Hang in there. Cleveland Rocks.

    Funny side note, the only song I wrote for a city was Sheriton Gibson, for Cleveland, So you got that going for you.

    Cheers.

  28. 28: MikeM said at 8:51 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    Not what you want to hear, probably (especially from a Red Sox fan who was at the game last night), but Youkilis’s blog gave a perspective on Skinner’s decision that I and many around me hadn’t appreciated. We were as amazed as you to see Lofton still on third, but here’s some inside dope that Kevin shared: “I know the Indians are taking a lot of heat for not sending Lofton on that hit down the line in the seventh, but that sign the ball hit is not usually there. Usually, that ball kicks right to the shortstop. That’s one of those things I think third-base coach Joel Skinner prepared well for; that was actually a good call on his part. It just didn’t bounce his way, and we were very fortunate he held him up. Nine out of 10 times here in Boston, guys get thrown out trying to go to second or going home on balls hit down there”

  29. 29: truth said at 11:34 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    There are many who share your pain, but I am not one of them.

    Go Sox!

  30. 30: bobestes said at 11:57 pm on October 22nd, 2007:

    I don’t know, man. From what I know about baseball, when I see a hitter go up there hacking on the first pitch, I find it hard to believe he’s trying to hit a sac fly.

  31. 31: Old Man Duggan said at 12:19 am on October 23rd, 2007:

    To second what C. Trent Rosecrans said, New Adventures in Hi-Fi is really good. Monster can maybe be seen as a misstep, but I’d say I’ve grown to appreciate it more over time. You can discard just about everything else though. I was only able to suffer through “Reveal” once, putting it in a category with the horrendous “Songs for Silverman” as albums by artists who I love that make me wonder if they’ll ever regain their form.

  32. 32: Jean said at 1:13 am on October 23rd, 2007:

    Hey Joe,

    What a touching post and I gotta say, Cleveland is a great great team. I was scared of your hardworking, amazingly talented team and I think most Sox fans felt the match-up was scarily close. You probably don’t want to hear any more from gracious Sox fans (including me) but we all feel some need to say we get it big time.

    I think Cleveland needed the win more than Boston but I wouldn’t have liked it one bit if we’d lost A lot of glory and probably, a lot of business comes to the city in the World Series, but that’s not what it’s all about. It’s that feeling and it s–ks to not get the joy that comes with the win.

  33. 33: Larry said at 4:08 pm on October 23rd, 2007:

    As a Sox fan who suffered from ‘67, I can tell Tribe followers that it will be that much sweeter when your team breaks thru.

    Your heart has been carved out once again, and there will be that much more joy with which it will be filled.

    I didn’t believe it either, but it came just that way.

  34. 34: John said at 8:01 pm on October 23rd, 2007:

    Any Sox fan prior 2004 knows exactly how you feel. Year after year, heart-wrenching loss after another, and you wonder why you still care. However as others above have said. When that win comes, it is really a spectacular feeling.

    Good luck next year and hopefully we’ll see the same teams go at it again.

  35. 35: Sven said at 2:31 am on October 24th, 2007:

    While I am not disappointed in the result in the least, I understand your pain. I do remember ‘86. I remember it well. How do you blow a 2 run lead in the bottom of the tenth with two outs and no one on? How?
    So close. So close. Never there.

    But your time will come. Maybe they’ll surround Lebron with better talent, maybe the Browns… (no, who are we kidding.) The Indians have a good nucleus of solid ball players. They’ll learn from this. Maybe they’ll be back next year.

    But your time will come.

    I remember the pain. I remember it well.

  36. 36: Greg Grant said at 7:08 pm on October 24th, 2007:

    I would have more sympathy for you suffering Sox fans if you didn’t also have the Celtics and the Patriots and their dynasties.

  37. 37: Katie said at 6:06 pm on October 25th, 2007:

    Joe – thank you for helping me understand my husband (a Clevelander) a little better. To me it’s just a game, but to him… his Heartbreak Meter was going crazy all week.

  38. 38: greg said at 12:15 pm on July 14th, 2008:

    I see Joe meeting John Elway like when Lloyd met Mary’s husband at the end of dumb and dumber.

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