Book Review: "The Curse of Rocky Colavito"

 

I just finished reading this book by Terry Pluto.  Previously, I had never heard of the author, but he caught me with his subject. The subject at hand?  My beloved Cleveland Indians.  

The story isn't merely about the Cleveland Indians, though.  It is of their historic defeat.  As you can tell by the subtitle, it all begins back in 1960 when an idiot (and Pluto may have actually referred to him as such) named Lane traded Rocky Colavito away for players who are now forgotten.  Colavito was the pride and star of the Indians in 1960, but Lane was a man who was part traitor and part trader.  Some of his bragging listed in the book has to do with how many trades he made.  As if trading was a good thing in and of itself.

Pluto tells quite a few stories beginning in 1960, and going all the way to the early seasons of the 90's--right before the Indians became successful (for too short a time) again.  Some of my favorite chapters are of the heroes I had in the 1970s--Duane Kuiper, Rick Manning, Dennis Eckersley, and, the most beloved of all, Andre Thornton.  If I were to pick one chapter to re-read, and I have, it would be the chapter called "The Conscience of the Indians."  That chapter is all about Andre, the greatest man to be on the Indians team in the last forty years.  And by "Greatest", I mean character, not simply as a ball player (though he was a great one).  

In fact, after I re-read that chapter later this evening, I'll probably have something to think about in terms of my own feelings of Loser (which I spoke of here a few years ago).  I've needed to really learn something from my Cleveland fandom for many years.  Just last night I apologized to Bronco's fans online, because I, a Cleveland fan, was cheering for Peyton Manning.  Peyton and the Broncos were absolutely slaughtered on the Super Bowl last night.  

And, like so many devastating Cleveland losses ("The Drive", for example, though I don't think I ever cried at a loss like I did the Jose Mesa blunder in '97), I felt this one too deep for a grown man to feel.  It wasn't even my team, but I felt like my personal "L" was stamped on a man for whom I cheered.  

This book gave me the courtesy of knowing that there are others out there who feel some of that angst.  I appreciate that.  And, after I re-read that chapter about Andre, I hope I can grasp a bit more of his perspective on life, and roll on past this giant L which haunts me.  I hope I can see past the L that tracks me in all my sports fandom, the L that keeps people interrupting me in conversation, the L that lingers as I painfully attempt to re-establish tools I've provided for hundreds, the L that keeps me under the 'leadership' of a control freak, the L makes me doubt something I've always said ("Luck is pagan"), the L that keeps me in the pile of disrespected former leaders... The L that tracks me down and gives me a beating in spirit over and over and over and over again.  I'm tired of being a giant L.

My L needs to die.  

I hope it will.