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The Cleveland Indians

True, their mascot, Chief Ya..., erm, I mean, Wahoo, is pretty silly. But "Demeaning and oppressive to all native Americans everywhere"? Come on, let's try and keep things in perspective, shall we? This is not the planned distribution of smallpox-laden wool blankets we're talking about here. Plus, my little niece and nephew think Chief Wahoo is cute, and no, they don't seem to think real native Americans should look like that. Anyway, the Indians are a different team than in the dark ages of the 70s, when I was growing up in the northern Ohio area and experiencing the predictable yearly cycle: hope springing eternal at the start of spring training, and then a mostly steady slide into the division cellar, punctuated by just enough flashes of genuine talent to keep diehard fans coming to games. At the end of each season, any young players who showed real talent would typically be sold to another team or traded for a combination of soon-to-be-retired former greats or players no one would ever hear about again within a couple of years.

Then there was the movie "Major League," in which a fictional version of the Tribe, behind an improbable bunch of player-characters, climb out of the division cellar to win a pennant, and now at last the real team has won a bunch of them. (Though a World Series win still eludes them.) Sometimes life indeed imitates art, as with a famous once-fictitious British heavy-metal band whose name escapes me at the moment.

http://hogranch.com/mayer/indians.html -- Last Revised: 21 May 2005
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