This is why the Indians are so frustrating to watch. They drool all over themselves for two and a half weeks, then find a phone booth and change into "Superteam" for one afternoon.
This Indians team does more teasing than Paris Hilton at a Monaco night club. Reference today's 10-1 spanking of the Royals, in which the Indians hit a pair of three-run homers.
Last night, who on Earth though this team would hit two more three-run homers all season?
Suddenly, the offense erupts (without Travis Hafner in the lineup), tantalizing the fans with its potential, making us believe everything might be all right after all. They might take two of three from the Mariners this weekend, broadening our smiles, reassuring us. They'll sniff at the wild card like an interested dog, making us coax them along.
"Only two more games to the Yankees!" we'll say. It will be there, so close, so very reachable.
Then they'll keel over again at the most inopportune time and kill the season. They'll win seven of their final eight games in September when the point is moot, but management will make it their propaganda focus for next season.
And us fans will be waiting, growing older. Like we always do.
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