The Cleveland Indians made the playoffs this year for the first time in what seems like centuries. The second it happened, delusions of grandeur spread throughout the city, faster than a new flu strain. I even heard World Series talk from people who were neither intoxicated nor in a hypnotic state.
One local radio analyst called the Indians a “team of destiny.” This is someone who is considered an expert. Seriously?
Need I recall for him and every other Clevelander the misfortune that has run roughshod over sports teams in the city on Lake Erie in past decades? Do you need to be reminded of The Drive, The Fumble, The Shot and, perhaps most devastating of all, The Decision?
Now that we’ve walked down horror lane, let’s be clear about one thing, and I don’t need a magic 8 ball to know this. There is no team of destiny in Cleveland. Not now. Not ever.
Sound harsh? Maybe. Hey, I love Cleveland and its teams as much as the next person, and maybe it took nearly half a century of tears and heartache to learn this, but this realization has made me a more content person.
Take my advice. Kick back and enjoy your favorite Cleveland team. Be happy if they win, and be ecstatic if they make the playoffs. Then, put the brakes on and realize that the ride will end short of a trophy.
After that, look ahead to a new time of hope — draft day.
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