Do you remember when you were a kid and everything seemed important? For instance, Christmas was important. There is that scene in "A Christmas Story" when Ralphie doesn't want to take a chance that Santa is not real and miss out on his Red Rider BB Gun. We have all been Ralphie climbing up that long stairway just to talk to Santa. Just in case we are wrong. Getting what you want for Christmas is very important. As adults, getting the right Christmas present for ourselves really isn't that important anymore. Sports is another thing that was far more important to me growing up than it is now.
I loved playing baseball, whiffle ball, football and basketball with my brothers and other kids in the neighborhood. Some days we would spend hours pretending we were our favorite players (my brother Mark had an amazing impersonation of Daryl Strawberry's swing). Baseball cards, posters and those little plastic football helmets you could buy for a quarter from the machine at Pizza Hut were prized possessions. But as we grew older, graduated, got real jobs, got married and had kids, those childish things just kind of faded away. At least for me they did.
As I write this, I will be turning 34 years old tomorrow on January 17th. It was on that day in 1988 that my most disappointing sporting event took place. On my 13th birthday, Ernest Byner fumbled on the Denver Broncos 2 yard line. I literally felt sick when that happened, and I think I even cried (secretly in my bedroom). The Browns were my favorite team. Bernie Kosar, Kevin Mack, Byner, Ozzie and Hanford Dixon were awesome. I would wear my Kosar jersey every Sunday afternoon. I lived to hear those Kosar songs played when they would make the playoffs. But then they kicked me in the groin and punched me in the mouth. But I loved sports.
For some reason, I have lost my love for sports and cheering for a certain team. I have always rooted for the Browns and for the Indians, but over the past 10 years I have given up on them. I have restrained myself from getting physically and emotionally sucked in. The last time I was that involved in sports was game 7 of the 1997 World Series. I was watching the game with my friend Dave in his dorm room at Malone. Jose Mesa killed me that night. I was forced to experience another Cleveland loss while at the same time my friend Dave was dancing and screaming joyously because the Tribe lost - not because Florida won. Well, this year things are going to be different.
I just finished reading "Now I Can Die in Peace" by Bill Simmons and I have been inspired to become a fan again. Obviously not at the same level as when I was 12, but I will risk emotional peaks and valleys for the sake of the Indians and the Browns. I want to get lost in something that has no significant meaning upon my life. I want to be able to rest my head from the stresses of life while watching a baseball game. I want to get mad when Peralta strikes out, cheer when Hafner homers and nearly vomit when the Tribe plays in the playoffs. But mostly, I want to simply enjoy a part of my life that has been missing for a long time.
So, this is merely the first post of many about sports and specifically, the Indians. I can't wait for opening day. I bought a new Indians hat (not with the stupid Chief Wahoo or scripted I, but the old school C), am planning on attending a few games and hope to raise my son as a Tribe fan so that he can enjoy his own Jose Mesa's of life.
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