Best of 2007: Triumph of the Little Guy

Finally the little Tribe slammed the door with a closer who scared us to death every time he threw by loading the bases as the potential winning run approached the plate, rather than with a flashy ringer paid millions to throw no more than 10 pitches which would blast past bewildered hitters at 100 miles an hour. They did it with smart baserunning and strategic sacrifices to move runners and procure one run at a time rather than collecting runs in heaps of 3 and 4  courtesy of clean up hitters going yard 40 or 50 times a season. Ironic that our season ended on a baserunning mistake. But, that’s Cleveland for you. Our heartache is always served up with a big side of shock, usually at first attributed to some nameless curse, ultimately shouldered by some player singled out as the goat extraordinaire so that we have someone whose picture we can throw darts at in the off-season. 

So of course as you know, my little guys ultimately did not triumph. I see the rebuttals to my whole argument now, the ultimate failure of our underdog squad in the face of the Boston Colossus. Our little ball didn't just get systematically beaten. The little guys had it in their mitts, and they choked in a way that only Cleveland teams can. And then they choked again. And again. Am I up to 3 yet? Who blows a 3-1 game lead in the ALCS? Maybe the 2004 Yankees would like to join my support group? Nah, I'm sure they don't want to cavort with us little guys. The logistics alone are a problem. What state is Cleveland in? Gotham is its own universe in which Cleveland is not even on the map. Besides, they don't need us. We cry in our beer and try to find someone who was actually alive a million years ago to tell us what it was like the last time Cleveland won a world series while they stare at all their championship rings. Their 3-1 choke was a mistake, an embarrassment. Ours was The End of The World for at least a week, and when the anger  subsided, it just made us shake our heads and admit that even though We Believed, more foolishly yet deeply than anyone else when the odds were stacked against us, in the back of our minds, we kind of knew this would happen. 

So I guess you can say that my memory of 2007 as the year of the triumph of the little guy is woefully inaccurate, as the little guy resumed his usual little guy routine. We fade back into the shadows at the end of the season, eclipsed by the Red Sox efforts to establish themselves as a dynasty, Scott Boras and A-Rod making a mockery of free agency, and the Clemens and Mitchell did-too, did-not finger pointing circus.

But that’s the thing about little guys. They appreciate little victories. 2007 was the year of the little guy on our little guy scale. The little Indians took the division. They dominated the heavily favored Yankees . With a little help from the bugs. At least that was the consensus in New York. I guess a gazillion dollar payroll comes with a free bag of sour grapes. I'm pretty sure those bugs didn't discriminate between teams, but if they did, well, consider them the avengers of Jeffrey Meier. 

The Tribe scared the daylights out of a Red Sox team that never gave the littlest thought to the possibility of being  backed into a corner by our little team. Our little ace (albeit inhabiting a big body) beat out golden boy Josh Beckett for the Cy Young. Our little centerfielder who gets about a quarter of the credit he deserves as a baseball tour-de-force won a gold glove. 

So the little guys had some big moments. In their quiet little way, of course. No one will remember any of it outside of Cleveland. We don't mind. The biggest sports moment for me and my fellow Indians fans was all the little moments when our little team had their little triumphs. And for little guys all over MLB, if no one else noticed, know that we did. Cinderella Colorado, we were pulling for you. Jim Leyland, while your Tigers have big guns, they also are sustained by little guy power.  I hate you because you're our biggest rival, but know that my hate is accompanied by respect. Hey over there in the NFL, for the Biggest Little Guy of them all, Brett Favre, there are no words. I guess when people are calling you washed up, you return to Little Guy status no matter your accomplishments. We Little Guys are honored to have you among us. 

So Cleveland fans, and other little guys out there, 2007 gave us our moment, even if no one else noticed. Doesn't bother me. Us little guys prefer to keep our little moment to our little selves. Maybe next year we'll win the World Series, and all you big guns will want to be Little Guys too. Bad news though. You can't buy Little Guy. Maybe if you look in Cleveland, you'll find some of your own. Quick, go now before you forget we exist again.  For your reference we are not, as Eastern Seaboard myth would have it, located in the middle of a cornfield. We are also not directly next to Cincinnati. Additionally, we took geography in elementary school. Our geography class required us to learn of the existence and even location of states regardless of whether we might someday buy a vacation home there. Don't worry, we'll send you directions.

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