The Indians no more. The Cleveland Guardians era official commenced with the organization opening up the team shop, stocked with new merchandise–just in time for Christmas.
We’ve known about the name change for a few months now, and while the name hasn’t grown on me, I’m ready to be a Guard.
I know, I know. The Braves get to stay to the Braves. The Triple-A Indianapolis Indians aren’t changing their name, either. And what about the Florida State Seminoles?
How does this make any sense? I’m not arguing with you. You’re right. It doesn’t make sense.
I just can’t get worked up about it anymore–and this is a guy who walks down main street wearing Chief Wahoo on his hat. Maybe I’m weary from the glut of culture wars the media wants us to fight on a daily basis. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s confronting other problems in life that go beyond the name of a baseball team.
I became an Indians fan because they were the pro baseball team that played in Cleveland. Joe Carter, Cory Snider and Andy Allison were my first two favorite players. I went to to that old, decrepit stadium on the shores of Lake Erie and marveled at it like it was a palace.
Cleveland Guardians make it official
Now, that Major League Baseball team is still in Cleveland. They play somewhere else and now, they’re called something else, all the while, the game remains the same.
I wish they were still the Indians, but I’m ready to be a Guard. Just like 107 years ago when some diehards might’ve been peeved they were changing the name–going from the Naps to Indians. Might some fans back then felt disrespected the team was booting its first superstar–Napolean Lajoie– to the curb, selling him off to Philadelphia, and changing the name, to boot?
Life goes on-and as James Earl Jones’ character orates in Field of Dream notes, “Baseball will be there to mark the time.”