It's not 1995 anymore

It's hard to be understanding, sometimes.
Goodness knows, I try. I know people developed an attachment to those great Cleveland Indians teams of the 1990s. Those players, Kenny Lofton, Jim Thome, Manny Ramirez, Sandy and Roberto Alomar, and even Albert Belle became heroes of a sort. It pains fans when they see their pride and joy, their bragging rights, the team with which they can go to other cities not named New York and say "look at us!" and watch it be systematically dismantled through trades and free agency.
Fans want to hold someone accountable. The owner is cheap. The general manager is clueless. The financial system of baseball is a joke.
It hurt a bit to look at the Indians as they trial-and-errored their way to 74-88, 68-94 and 80-82 records the past three years. It hurts a bit to watch the Minnesota Twins take Cleveland's place as the alpha dog in the division. Remaining angry and hardened as the Indians try to claw their way back to the top has become a favored practice in some circles of fans.
Some fans are holding onto those Tribe teams of the 1990s with bitter resolve, vowing to hold the Indians' 2001-2002 implosion to rebuild against owner Larry Dolan and general manager Mark Shapiro until, seemingly, their dying day. There is good and bad in that.
I am glad, for one, the 1990s clubs set the bar so high. Dolan and Shapiro have a large legacy to live up to, and the demanding fans should help keep them on their toes. I have no problem with demanding success. Mediocrity is a self-perpetuating danger zone, and bad should only be a move to clear the decks to get good again.
But hanging on to those sexy 1990s lineups like a jilted lover is a problem. Lofton, Ramirez and Thome aren't coming back. The best you can hope for is a creaky-kneed, late-30s Thome hobbling back to Cleveland as a part-time player in about five years.
Fans screamed bloody murder and vowed never to attend another game again when David Justice was traded in 2000. They did the same when Roberto Alomar was traded in 2001, when Sandy Alomar left as a free agent in 2000, when Thome departed for Philadelphia in 2002, and when Omar Vizquel took his magic glove to San Francisco late last year. Many don't want to hear about Victor Martinez, Travis Hafner, or any other player that might become a new household name in Cleveland if given the chance. Winning will probably cure that, but the unwillingness to accept anything new is troubling, especially as Tribe attendance remains a far cry from the 455 straight sellouts of 1995-2001.
Are Tribe fans spoiled by success? Time will tell. The economy isn't booming like the 1990s, so nobody, least of all me, is expecting season sellouts before the first pitch is thrown, a Jacobs Field anomaly last decade. But one of my fears is chronically sluggish attendance from a fan base that has become jaded by "just" winning the division every year. Three years of non-contention should cure some of that by reminding fans what it was like before Jacobs Field opened and muscle-bound lineups showered the city with a vault-load of game winning homers every summer.
However, good teams have drawn little more than moths in other cities. The Florida Marlins won two World Series in front of September bandwagoners. A good Kansas City Royals team in 2003 was sparsely supported.
Good teams draw well, and in championship-starved Cleveland, fans will latch onto any team that promises the possibility of hardware. But the Indians, in a sport with no salary cap and a joke of a financial structure (that earlier statement was a true one), needs attendance to survive. They need merchandise sales. They need fans willing to give the team a chance if they prove themselves worthy.
It's not Omar. It's not Manny or Jimmy or even Orel Hershiser. But it's your team. And if they start to win, they deserve a look. They deserve a chance to carve their own niche in history.