UPDATE: The Indians have actually won two of the first three games of the season.  So I could be wrong.

The $24 million leadoff hitter is so far batting .267 with exactly zero steals, zero runs scored, and almost as many strikeouts as total bases.  But he’ll probably get better.  Meanwhile, the five middling-to-lame guys complained about below are collectively playing surprisingly well.  They’ll probably get worse.  Either way, we’re three games into things.  It’s way, way too early to judge anything.  So my judgment regarding the season before it has even begun the other night may not be completely flawless.

We’ll have another look in a month or two and see how things are going.  Meanwhile, thanks to the many bemused long-suffering Cleveland sports fans who’ve shared their own fond memories of complete aggravation.

 

Opening night of the season.  They’re playing against the rival
White Sox, defending World Series champions.  It’s on ESPN2.  Should I
watch?  You tell me.

I grew up living and dying with a team whose best
players, every damn year, were legends like Duane Kuiper (lifetime home
run total: one), Toby Harrah (who is in the Guinness book as the only
man who ever played an entire doubleheader at shortstop without once
touching the ball), and “Super Joe” Charboneau, who is still better
remembered for opening beer bottles with his eye socket than anything
he ever did on the field.

These were the big stars, mind you. 

And still I’d dredge up hope from some youthful reserve of idiot optimism, and I’d convince myself, year in, year out, that this
year was different.  This lame pile of utility parts, helpless minor
leaguers, and once-promising hopefuls who passed their prime without
blossoming would somehow pull it all together.

This last category
— promising young guys who are neither promising nor young anymore —
are particularly frustrating.  (Possibly because I am arguably one
myself, in more ways than I can count.)  A guy who sucks when he’s 23
may still be great by age 27, the year when most baseball players reach
the height of their skills.  The development curve in baseball is
relentless, however.  A guy who sucks when he’s 30… usually just
sucks.

There’s a word used in baseball front offices for players who suck,
but still have jobs because there’s nobody better on hand:
“organizational.”  Meaning you only bother having these guys because somebody
has to play left field, at least until another player with an actual future shows up.

But sometimes, they never do.

No team is perfect, of course.  Everybody has a Shemp or two
somewhere.  But — speaking as an expert in mediocrity, having watched
it closely for several decades now — when you see three or more
marginal 30-year olds with starting jobs on a major league baseball
team, it’s a sign of serious weakness extending all the way into the
team’s minor league system.  Most of the time, not only will this
season be disappointing, but the next might suck, too.  And the next.

I have spent perhaps half of the summers of my earthly existence cheering for whole teams — nay, an entire organization — you could call “organizational.”

Eventually, things improved for a while.  In 1994, the team had what might have been the best year in its history. 
Unfortunately, that was also the year of the lockout.  So everyone
stopped playing over money.

The
Indians even made the World Series (and lost) in 1995.  I never really
believed they might win.  Even in 1997 — even when they led going into
the bottom of the ninth inning of the seventh game — I was certain
they would find some way to lose it, and I said so to friends at the
time.

They lost.

Then those players started getting old.  Pretty soon, the team sucked again.

Last
year, however, the Indians got better again for a while.  With two
weeks left in the season, they were comfortably in control of a playoff
spot.  But I told my best buddy David, a lifelong Dodger fan here who
cheers empathetically for the Indians on my behalf, not to get
excited.  They had no chance, I was sure. 

In the last week of
the season, the Indians lost almost every single game, narrowly
squeezing themselves out of the playoffs on the very last weekend.

So. 
The Indians are playing White Sox.  On TV.  Opening night.  Hope
springs eternal.  Should I watch?  Let’s look at the lineup, and you
tell me.

Tonight’s starting lineup features a leadoff hitter
who was just given $24 million after batting, um, .289.  Well.  Maybe
that’ll work out.  He’s got speed and power and some patience.  So
maybe.  No need to panic yet.

The second hitter is a promising young… um, guy about to turn 30.  Not much power.  Not much speed.  Oh, crap.  That didn’t take long.

The third, fourth, and fifth spots are reassuring.  All three could be all-stars.  OK.  There’s still some hope.

Maybe the second hitter was just a glitch, the Shemp, nothing to worry about.  Let’s see…

Batting sixth: a guy almost ten years past his prime.  He’s really only able to hit left-handers, but he was brought to platoon with the regular first-baseman — a promising young… um, guy about to turn 30 — who can’t hit much at all, but is particularly “organizational” against lefties.  (If this guy’s drowning, do not throw him the life ring with your left hand.  He will never see it.)

The wheels have just come off.  We’re still in the middle third of the batting order, and we’re already down to marginal players.  I smell disaster looming.  

Batting seventh: a promising young… um, 30 year old.  Batting eighth: a promising young… um, 33 year old.  And batting ninth: a promising young… um, 32 year old.

Look up their stats.  Feel the weight of time.  Face mortality.  Enjoy the impending doom.

How bad is this team?  The Yankees’ starting nine has five guys with better lifetime batting averages than anyone in the Indians’ lineup.

And so, knowing all this, did I put the game on just now?

Yes.  Of course.

The Indians fell behind quickly.  Of course.  A little while later, the team’s #1 pitcher (who would probably be no better than #4 on the White Sox) injured himself by — yes, yes, wait for it — pitching the ball.

Fortunately, he managed to walk off the field under his own power.  There was no ambulance, at least.  So there’s that to be excited about. 

There
was a brief glimmer of hope when the middle-aged “organizational” first
baseman — the one they brought in to supplement the usual
“organizational” first baseman, the one who wouldn’t see an arterial spurt
if it came from your left hand — managed to tie the score with a home
run.  This is very likely (no exaggeration) his one home run for the
month.  

Then it started to rain.  The game might be called off entirely.

My advice to fellow Cleveland Indians fans: relish this night.  This is as good as it’s gonna get for a while. 

Still,
there are some darn fine young players in the minors, and the three or
four truly good players in the majors are young enough to be around for
a while.  So I’ve decided to do something I was gonna do later anyway,
just a little sooner.  I’m gonna wait until next year, starting right
now.

Go Indians!  In 2007!

Wow.  Is that a timesaver, or what?  Because I’m all about time management.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Australia is entering Day Four against South Africa.

I
need to see if Warney is gonna clean up the tail end and if Langer’s
skull has been successfully reattached.  (He took an Ntini bouncer
flush on the mastoid other day…)

UPDATE: The game has
resumed.  The White Sox immediately jumped three runs back into the
lead, and now the game has gone on long enough that the impending loss
will be official.

For an hour there, during the rain, when I was
writing the words “relish this night,” the Indians were still holding
even with an actual good team.

Oh well… Indians fans, avoid the rush.  Wait ’til next year now.

I really do think they’ll be pretty good in 2007…