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I love these kind of articles.
What make this team special? They get along
BY TODD PORTER
CLEVELAND
Sprawled across a leather couch in the middle of the clubhouse, Trot Nixon has a goofy look on his face and sleep in his eyes.
Chris Gomez, Josh Barfield and Jason Michaels occupy the rest of the couch. They're watching "Cool Runnings" and laughing at the same John Candy lines us sophomoric guys laugh at.
It is a little past 10 a.m. Baseball players aren't early risers. It's two hours before the first pitch at Jacobs Field in the final game of what turned out to be a series sweep for the Tribe over the Detroit Tigers.
The Indians are unwinding before they've even stretched.
A few feet away are Aaron Fultz, Rafael Perez and Jhonny Peralta, playing an old Nintendo game, "RBI Baseball." Players pooled money and bought a few of the old game systems. They started a tournament. A bracket hangs above Victor Martinez's locker, a paper trophy from "2007 Tribe RBI Tournament."
You wouldn't know this is a pennant race. The Indians, a team full of .270 hitters with modest power and heavy feet, aren't just winning this thing. They're running away with it.
In front of a loud Wednesday afternoon crowd, Cleveland threw the last shovel of dirt on Detroit. The Tigers lost three leads in as many days. The Indians' magic number to clinch the Central Division is three after the 4-2 win.
"I love watching them play," Manager Eric Wedge said. "They never put their heads down. They don't pout. ... You've got to have that fire inside, and we have a team that's full of that."
The Bronx was burning when the Yankees won the 1977 World Series. The only thing burning in Cleveland's clubhouse is incense.
"Everybody gets along; it's kind of weird," said C.C. Sabathia, who improved his Cy Young chances with another strong outing. "On the road, we go out to eat with a group of 20 players. That's unheard of. It makes it a lot of fun when you win with guys you like."
Cleveland doesn't have a perfect team. The Indians of the 1990s were more dominant at the plate, more talented.
But Cleveland is winning with something more important than talent. The Indians care about one another.
"There's no egos," closer Joe Borowski said. There's nobody alienated from anybody. ... You don't see (it) too often."
In many clubhouses, there are Latin neighborhoods. White guys and black guys. Veterans, rookies, superstars and journeymen.
Here, a 25-year-old Dominican (Perez) is playing a 20-year-old video game with a 34-year-old Tennesseean (Fultz).
"Guys talk about you need a guy in the clubhouse to help get ... through tough situations," Sabathia said. "I wasn't a believer in that until I got Trot Nixon on my team. He's made the difference. He brought a calmness and a personality to this team."
After every home win, a player is interviewed on the postgame show. On cue, a whipped cream pie hits the interviewee in the kisser. Jason Michaels, who could have turned into a cancer after Kenny Lofton took his outfield spot, looked like Casper the Ghost by the time Barfield finished smothering his face.
These Indians are goofy, laid-back and serious about winning. They easily could finish with the best record in baseball. Not bad for a team than was nearly two dozen games out of first last year.
"When you're comfortable with guys in the clubhouse, and you're able to laugh and have fun, you go out there and play relaxed," Casey Blake said. "I don't think it's like this many places."
Imagine that: An average offensive ballclub winning because they like one another.
"It's almost like a legion ball summer team here," Sabathia said. "Everybody is cool with hanging out with each other. All our families get along. Our wives go out. The kids all play together."
The Indians are running away with the AL Central, and they're lounging on a couch while doing it.
Reach Repository sports writer Todd Porter at (330) 580-8340 or e-mail: todd.porter@cantonrep.com
What make this team special? They get along
BY TODD PORTER
CLEVELAND
Sprawled across a leather couch in the middle of the clubhouse, Trot Nixon has a goofy look on his face and sleep in his eyes.
Chris Gomez, Josh Barfield and Jason Michaels occupy the rest of the couch. They're watching "Cool Runnings" and laughing at the same John Candy lines us sophomoric guys laugh at.
It is a little past 10 a.m. Baseball players aren't early risers. It's two hours before the first pitch at Jacobs Field in the final game of what turned out to be a series sweep for the Tribe over the Detroit Tigers.
The Indians are unwinding before they've even stretched.
A few feet away are Aaron Fultz, Rafael Perez and Jhonny Peralta, playing an old Nintendo game, "RBI Baseball." Players pooled money and bought a few of the old game systems. They started a tournament. A bracket hangs above Victor Martinez's locker, a paper trophy from "2007 Tribe RBI Tournament."
You wouldn't know this is a pennant race. The Indians, a team full of .270 hitters with modest power and heavy feet, aren't just winning this thing. They're running away with it.
In front of a loud Wednesday afternoon crowd, Cleveland threw the last shovel of dirt on Detroit. The Tigers lost three leads in as many days. The Indians' magic number to clinch the Central Division is three after the 4-2 win.
"I love watching them play," Manager Eric Wedge said. "They never put their heads down. They don't pout. ... You've got to have that fire inside, and we have a team that's full of that."
The Bronx was burning when the Yankees won the 1977 World Series. The only thing burning in Cleveland's clubhouse is incense.
"Everybody gets along; it's kind of weird," said C.C. Sabathia, who improved his Cy Young chances with another strong outing. "On the road, we go out to eat with a group of 20 players. That's unheard of. It makes it a lot of fun when you win with guys you like."
Cleveland doesn't have a perfect team. The Indians of the 1990s were more dominant at the plate, more talented.
But Cleveland is winning with something more important than talent. The Indians care about one another.
"There's no egos," closer Joe Borowski said. There's nobody alienated from anybody. ... You don't see (it) too often."
In many clubhouses, there are Latin neighborhoods. White guys and black guys. Veterans, rookies, superstars and journeymen.
Here, a 25-year-old Dominican (Perez) is playing a 20-year-old video game with a 34-year-old Tennesseean (Fultz).
"Guys talk about you need a guy in the clubhouse to help get ... through tough situations," Sabathia said. "I wasn't a believer in that until I got Trot Nixon on my team. He's made the difference. He brought a calmness and a personality to this team."
After every home win, a player is interviewed on the postgame show. On cue, a whipped cream pie hits the interviewee in the kisser. Jason Michaels, who could have turned into a cancer after Kenny Lofton took his outfield spot, looked like Casper the Ghost by the time Barfield finished smothering his face.
These Indians are goofy, laid-back and serious about winning. They easily could finish with the best record in baseball. Not bad for a team than was nearly two dozen games out of first last year.
"When you're comfortable with guys in the clubhouse, and you're able to laugh and have fun, you go out there and play relaxed," Casey Blake said. "I don't think it's like this many places."
Imagine that: An average offensive ballclub winning because they like one another.
"It's almost like a legion ball summer team here," Sabathia said. "Everybody is cool with hanging out with each other. All our families get along. Our wives go out. The kids all play together."
The Indians are running away with the AL Central, and they're lounging on a couch while doing it.
Reach Repository sports writer Todd Porter at (330) 580-8340 or e-mail: todd.porter@cantonrep.com
