The argument is often heard that the mood of a city is directly related to the success, or failure, of its sports teams. In this day and age of mass media over-hype, this mood can change on an almost daily basis. Certainly, the definite lack of Team Dynasties can at least be partly blamed on the fickle nature of media and fans alike. Baseball, with its near-mythic proportions of history and legend, is more deeply connected to the cultural psyche of the local populace than any other sporting enterprise (football a distant second...pop-star basketball a sad commentary on what passes for community these days). Since its appeal cuts across the barriers of age, sex and social standing, baseball is symbiotically tied to the self-esteem of the city at-large...and this connection is no more strongly represented than that which exists between Cleveland and its Indians.

Though the legacy of succeeding the National League Cleveland Spiders, losers of a major league record 134 games in 1899, may still haunt them, the Indians could actually be considered one of baseball's better teams in the pre-divisional era. However, this success always seemed to come up short, breaking through for pennants only in 1920, 1948 and 1954. No other team with similar longevity can claim so few titles. Cleveland, the city, has experienced the same lack-of-greatness recognition in spite of strong considerations to the contrary. Ever since Moses Cleaveland set up shop at the mouth of the Cuyahoga, the locals have been engaged a pursuit of excellence that is constantly challenged by the circuitous energies emanating from a river that flows without definite direction for most of its length. Thus the intertwined elements of geography, culture and fortune continue to play out their drama through the ages.

As stated earlier, the nature of a baseball team reflects the character of the city, be it the long-term inertial excellence of New York, or the quirky worst-best-worst-best schizophrenia of Minnesota or Atlanta. The Indians/Cleveland cycle has a much longer, deeper period than most. The first period of success, culminating with the Tris Speaker-led World Series victory in 1920, coincided with the rise of Cleveland's stature in the business world as the John D. Rockefeller and Standard Oil dollars, planted years before, hit boom times. This legacy remains in the form of well-funded cultural and social icons such as the world-renowned Cleveland Orchestra, Museum of Art, Cleveland Clinic and academic institutions. These blue-blood origins soon gave way to the Depression and governmental limits on excessive free enterprise (monopoly? what monopoly?) and the Indians entered a dormant period with only brief flashes of brilliance in 1926 and 1940. Fueled by wartime industrial growth, Cleveland entered the post-WWII era with sleeves rolled up and a desire to excel. With player-manager Lou Boudreau and staff ace Bob Feller, the Indians powered their way to a World Title in 1948, beating the Boston Red Sox in a one-game playoff for the pennant and the Boston Braves in the Series. Thus began the 'Golden Age' of Indians baseball, which would have been even more successful if it weren't for those damn Yankees. Manager Al Lopez led a team combining the hitting power of Larry Doby, Luke Easter, Al Rosen and Vic Wertz with the pitching prowess of Feller, Bob Lemon, Early Wynn and Mike Garcia. The peak came in 1954, when in spite of 103 Yankee wins, the Indians took the pennant with an AL record 111. Unfortunately, the peak came up short, helped by the young legs of 'Sey Hey' and the vast reaches of the Polo Fields to snare a Wertz smash and dash their title hopes to pieces.

The 1950's were a time of major growth for Cleveland, building upon an expanding industrial base that fed the idyllic American Dream of prosperity for all. It is no surprise that the Cleveland Browns were also a major powerhouse team, entering the NFL after years of dominating the All-American Conference and promptly laying waste to the defending champion Eagles. But all this success had its price, and the cycle took a downward turn. The industrial might became urban blight, and the Indians became perennial doormats, redefining the phrase 'cellar-dwellers'. The river and the mayor's hair both caught on fire, Lake Erie became an open sewer, and the Indians could only manage six winning (by definition) seasons in 33 years...the city and the team sharing an interlocked fate...the winds of fate blowing cruelly off the lake.

Cleveland today is an amazing place...vibrant, bright and alive. The industrial debris around the river has been transformed into a thriving party scene, perch and walleye are found in Lake Erie once again, new buildings constantly change the skyline, the Theater District sings a lovely rejuvenated song, the city government is stable and filled with vision, and after sixty years, the Indians are getting a wonderful stadium home they can call their own. It's only appropriate then that the team shows more potential for success than has been seen since those long-past days of excitement. Boasting an offense that rivals the powerhouse of old, the intelligent off-season addition of some effective pitching is all that is required to make the inaugural season at Gateway Park a special one indeed. The Indians/Cleveland cycle is, happily, making the long, slow turn upriver. For true Tribe fans, hope has always been in great supply. The time has come to turn hope into reality..........

Doc Michaels
4 November 1993