Hau, sanguine Sons and Daughters of the Cuyahoga! Yes, I’m an Optimist. And yes, I understand the importance of tonight’s Cavaliers matchup against the Houston Rockets at The Q.
But I’m here today on a different kind of business. That business is the Cleveland Sports Renaissance™ and, specifically the Cleveland Indians role in its furtherance.
Perhaps you thought I’d emerge on Thursday or Friday, after the Tribe pulled off their fait accompli, just in time to dance around with my pants off (presumably) in the Championship parade.
If so, you don’t know me very well.
I took an oath as Optimist to act. Not to re-act. To hash. Not to RE-hash!
And when the Tribe fell, 3-2, on Sunday night at Wrigley Field, as much as we collectively told ourselves: ‘This is good, we’ll wrap it up at home,’ I don’t know if that’s the kind of mindset we’re looking for.
So I’m here to give you – Cleveland and Indians Nation abroad -- one important piece of advice on this seminal day in Cleveland sports history …
Gird your loins, people. Gird ‘em up good.
We’re Cleveland. We don’t “wrap things up.” Who in the cuss do we think we are to have that luxury?!
We don’t.
Not in my lifetime, anyway.
We know, expsecially around these parts, that things are Earned and Not Given.
And we know – or at least we should – that one of the universe’s immutable truths, like death and taxes and not walking the leadoff man after the seventh inning or the George Carlin Rule about never, ever driving behind an old man in a hat is this …
When you have a good team down – in a game or a series – you must put thy foot on they throat and put them away, post haste. No reprieve. No breathing room.
That’s the way the maestro, Terry Francona, has managed the entire postseason. And that’s the way he’s gonna put down this Cubs insurgency tonight.
It was unlikely that the Tribe – as hot as they were – were going to sweep a 103-win ballclub all three games in Chicago. And Cleveland, let’s be honest with ourselves, there’s NO WAY we were ready to celebrate the Championship on Sunday night. NONE.
CAVS TO DON WINE JERSEYS.
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It was a chilly night and – aside from the loyal fans at the Watch Party – most of us were either half-sloppy or all nestled away, comfy-cozy in our post-Browns stupor. We weren’t anywhere near ready to celebrate on Sunday night.
But tonight, the weather will be gorgeous – befitting of the Baseball Gods, smiling on our city.
You don’t need me to tell you how primed the Tribe is to win the 2016 Championship tonight. I don’t need to explain the unflappable Carlos Santana’s versatility or the JK Kid’s rugged, consistent leadership or Frankie Lindor’s meteoric path to superstardom. You don’t need me to tell you that the Klubot has been the ace of aces or that opponents don’t know whether to shart or wind their watch when Andrew Miller toes the rubber.
And you certainly don’t need me to spell out how every button Tito Francona’s pushed and every lever he’s pulled this postseason has worked to perfection – like the astronauts who put all that crap together to get Apollo 13 home.
So I won’t.
Instead, I’ll tell you a story from backstage at Game 7 of the NBA Finals in Oakland.
This story didn’t happen to me, but it did happen to someone with the Cavaliers that I almost consider a brother. Since we won the title that night and everything, I’m sure he won’t mind its re-telling.
Before both teams took the floor for layup line, just outside of the cavernous visitor’s locker room at Oracle Arena, Cavaliers veteran James Jones went man-to-man, my friend included, and looked him straight in the eye.
[And when James Jones looks at you with those serious eyes and speaks to you directly, it’s as if Champ’s looking into the depths of your soul...]
He said: “In three hours, you’re gonna be World Champions.”
And in three hours, we were.
That story still literally gives me chills.
On Sunday night, the city wasn’t ready. But it is now. And now it’s time for our beloved Indians to sup the sweet, succulent nectar of victory atop the major sports mountaintop.
The Cavaliers will do their part, getting everyone lathered up for the party.
Kyrie doesn’t have an Angry-o-Meter. He’s more the silent assassin-type. But something about the Rockets take him to another level, averaging 27.3 ppg against Houston, his best mark against any NBA foe. And as sensational as the other 67 percent of the Big Three plan on being this evening, keep an eye on the Deuce – slicing and dicing precisely.
I expect a hard-fought but T.C.B.-type performance by the Wine and Gold this evening. They’re rarely the undercard, but we’re in a whole new stratosphere on the North Coast these days.
If there’s a little anxiousness about the Cubs bringing momentum to town, that’s natural. Chicago’s beleaguered Bears won on Monday night, so Chicagoans – who already have broad shoulders – have their chests all puffed out.
But their beautiful ursine dreams will be extinguished in Cleveland before the weekend.
The Cubs have a star-studded and frighteningly young nucleus and the second-best manager in the game. They’ll have plenty of cracks to compete for the Commissioner’s Trophy’s 30-pronged crown. And if they can wait out our Renaissance™, maybe they’ll win one or two themselves.
And with such a momentous day and night pending, I’m sorry to break it to boney little PR jedi, Jeff Schaefer, that their won’t be any educational value to today’s column. We won’t have time for Today in History and in terms of those who Died on This Day and, for intents and purposes, are still probably Dead – your guess is as good as mine.
But I do know this: On this date – November 1 – way back in 1979, a little itty-bitty baby, seven-pound, three-ounce Covelli Loyce “Coco” Crisp was birthed in Los Angeles, California.
And if the birthday boy – whose every hit this postseason has been huge – wasn’t one of the most beloved Indians before he left in 2006, wait until the Tribe plays pile-on-the-reliever later tonight.
While you meatheads get ready for the greatest double-header in Cleveland history, I’m gonna work on Nurse Ratched – see if she’ll spring McMurphy, Cheswick, Martini and the Chief for the World Series tonight. I hope she doesn’t’ start that mess about taking a vote. I swear those guys will go APE.
The first time the Cavaliers and Indians played on the same night in the same city last week … it was fun.
Tonight … it’s business.
And Cubs and Cubs fans … Please don’t make us make it personal for Game 7.
You wouldn’t like us in Game 7.
Gird up, Cleveland. And, above all …
ROLL TRIBE!!!
Your pal,
The Optimist