Cleveland Rocks!

Okay. I am not normally a sports person. But to NOT be excited about the Cleveland Indians' recent victory over the Yankees is to NOT be a Palof. It simply can't be helped. My dad was born and raised in Cleveland. His dad, brothers Dale and Gary, and sister Linda and their families still live in Ohio. Cleveland sports are to our household what the Hawkeyes and the Huskers are to most other houses in Iowa and Nebraska.

Therefore, with the Indians in the Major League Division Series, this past week has meant high drama in Palof homes across the Midwest. My Uncle Joe (okay, he's technically not a Palof, but he's married to one!), in Hinckley, Ohio, has been going to several Indians games a week. I talked with my Aunt Linda last Monday, and she told me he had been to five games in the prior week alone. And that was before the Division Series even began. I'm sure Uncle Gary (my dad's almost-twin) and his kids have been following the series closely as well. And then there's my dad, whose entire indentity, for better or for worse, seems to be wrapped up in Cleveland sports, particularly the Indians.

The Cleveland Indians have not won the World Series since about 1948, I believe. My dad was born in 1953. This means that in his entire 54 years of Indian fanatacism (he was born with it, I'm sure), he has never seen them go all the way. Every year he hopes for the best, and every year his dreams are crushed. I think the Cleveland Browns (football) and the Cleveland Cavs (basketball) have had comparable losing streaks. Therefore, my dad's brilliant logic brings him to the conclusion that all Clevelanders are losers. That's how it's always been, and that's how it will continue to be.

He was hopeful and excited for a little while, at the beginning of the series. I was in Chadron this past weekend with Anne from work at the Nebraska Art Teachers Association annual conference. At our hotel Thursday night, Dad called me after Game 1 of the series to tell me that they won- and the score was 12 to 3 or something like that. "It's a glorious night," he said. And that's a direct quote. "You can watch Sports Center tonight if you want to." Anne and I laughed. "I can?" I said. "Thanks for giving me permission!" Then Friday night they won again, but not until the 12th inning. Yes, the 12th. It was a tense game. But Dad was still so excited.

But then on Sunday, they lost, and it was as though the world was coming to an end for the poor guy. Ben Morris invited him over to watch the game with him, which I think is so sweet. Natalie went over, too, and apparently it was quite the event. Dad and Ben spent most of the game in the Man Cave theorizing about all of the ways that the game was rigged- or at least biased- in the Yankees' favor. I can just see them going on and on, with Ann and Natalie sitting there rolling their eyes.

The way this series worked is that Cleveland needed to win 3 out of 5 games. They had already won 2. But I talked to Dad after Sunday's defeat, and, according to him, it was all over. "We're a losing city, and that's all there is to it," he said. He has a bad attitude. I called him again Monday night to find out what time and channel the game was on. "Humpf," he barked. "Don't even bother. It's all over." Even if they'd lost Monday, they still would have had one more shot. But he was so certain that it would end miserably...

As the evening wore on, the Indians maintained a stable lead. 6 to 1 for most of the game. But that wasn't enough to give Dad hope. I talked to my mom, and she and Natalie were about ready to punch him. Dad spent most of the night downstairs watching the game on the Internet, so he wouldn't have to hear those "Damn Yankee-biased announcers". Towards the end of the game, he was so sure they were going to lose (the score was now maybe 6 to 3) that he tried to make Mom and Natalie turn off the TV. When they refused, they made him go on a walk. At 10:15 at night. He was being that obnoxious.

Though it got closer in the end, the Indians still won, 6 to 4. This means that they go on to play best 5 out of 7 with Boston to determine who goes to the World Series, which means Mom and Natalie have a stretch to go with my very moody Dad. When they win, he's like a 10-year-old kid. When they lose, he's like an old, decrepit grandpa, without any hope in the world.

This is, verbatim, the email Dad sent me tonight:

this is it i have a feeling i hope a few losts will not get me down. go indians thanks love dad

So, for my dad's sake, though it may be a long shot, I hope they win.