Wild Things: Thirty years later, the Indians resemble their Major League counterparts
By Jason Lloyd 19m ago 1
TORONTO – Mike Clevinger has seen it. So has Jason Kipnis and just about every other player in the Indians’ clubhouse. By this point, “Major League” is a cult classic among both casual fans and current players alike.
But as the movie turns 30 years old this summer, what if this Indians team is the incarnate of the script? It isn’t a perfect comparison, of course. The Indians have a superstar in Francisco Lindor, a former MVP finalist in Jose Ramirez and they’ve already made the playoffs each of the past three years. They came within one win of a World Series championship not long ago and they were picked by plenty to win the division yet again this season despite more roster uncertainty than usual.
But the parallels are evident enough that a number of players on this team agreed they recognize it, too.
“They’d probably say I was fuckin’ Jake Taylor,” Kipnis laughed. “I’m the old guy with all the ice packs on his knees.”
Kipnis is certainly the veteran nearing the end, but his outstretched grab to finish off Monday’s win against the Blue Jays proved he isn’t ready for the Mexican League just yet. And while no one quite fits the role of Ricky Vaughn or his California Penal League haircut, Oliver Perez can pass for snotballer Eddie Harris and Bobby Bradley has so much Pedro Cerrano in him that it got him shipped back to the minors.
Bats, they are sick. I cannot hit curveball. Straightball I hit it very much. Curveball, bats are afraid.
The Indians have pulled together this season to play for each other and do it for themselves perhaps more than any other year, certainly since the core of this team was assembled.
Ownership cut their payroll. The front office is flirting with the idea of trading their best pitchers. No one shows up to their games.
There’s only one thing left to do. Win the whole fucking thing.
They haven’t put up a poster yet, but that could be next. In 2016, the team hung a poster of a bodybuilder with Terry Francona’s face on it. Every time they won a playoff game, they peeled off another piece – just like in the movie. It stands to reason that poster or one similar could return this fall if this team successfully runs down Minnesota.
The Twins have been a constant topic of conversation within the team’s ongoing group chat. No one can remember how or why exactly it started, but this is the first year the Indians have engaged in an ongoing group text with the entire roster throughout the season.
“Eighty percent of it is roasting each other,” Clevinger said. “Twenty percent is about baseball.”
That 20 percent includes plenty of talk about the Twins. Minnesota’s game is sometimes playing in the clubhouse now either before or after Indians games, depending on start times. No one panicked when the deficit swelled to double figures and no one is beating his chest now that it’s down to three games.
When guys aren’t talking about the Twins, they’re challenging each other with side bets. Trevor Bauer and Clevinger have often wagered over their velocity. Other veterans have joined in, challenging Bauer by offering $500 for a complete game. A home run on a certain night might be worth $200 to a hitter.
Before the final out of Sunday’s victory against the Royals, after Brad Hand already recorded the first two outs on strikeouts, Kipnis crept onto the infield grass and hollered loud enough to get Hand’s attention.
“A strikeout is worth $100,” Kipnis said, bribing his closer into striking out the side. Hand nodded, then struck out Whit Merrifield to end the game. Kipnis paid up in the clubhouse.
Francisco Lindor and Jason Kipnis have helped guide the Indians back into the pennant race this summer. (John E. Sokolowski / USA Today)
The veterans at the top of the payroll are responsible for the bulk of the wagers and a handful of players who were willing to discuss it all agreed Bauer has probably paid out more in side bets than anyone else this year. That’s no surprise given how much Bauer, who is earning $13 million this season, gives away to charity every season. The others use Carlos Santana as a meat shield – Santana is the highest-paid player at $18.3 million so they expect him to make a lot of the wagers. Kipnis is next ($14.7 million) and then Bauer.
The largest pot anyone can recall occurred during Zach Plesac’s outing last weekend against the Royals. In his previous start at Kansas City on July 4, Plesac stopped the game to have a trainer bring out a towel so he could wipe down his arms and hands while on the mound.
Plesac wasn’t wearing an undershirt and he had shaved his arms just a couple of days before the start, so there was nothing to stop the sweat from pouring down his arms and onto the ball in the Midwest humidity. It was to the point that he had trouble with his grip, so he had to stop the game and ask for the towel. Those in the Indians dugout feared he was hurt before they figured out what was going on.
“Dirt wasn’t working and the rosin was just getting chalky,” Plesac said. “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t wipe my hands on any of my clothes, they were soaking wet. So I asked for a towel. It was a big situation, guys in scoring position and I had to execute a pitch. I’d rather look like an idiot and be able to grip the ball.”
Veterans started howling from the dugout immediately. No one, including Francona, had ever seen anything like it. Royals manager Ned Yost began barking about whether it was even legal, which the umpires couldn’t really address because no one had ever seen it happen before.
His teammates have worn out Plesac for weeks on the group text for the towel incident, and enough guys threw money into the pot that the rookie earning the league minimum could’ve won around $5,000 if he stopped the game over the weekend against the Royals and asked for a towel again. He declined.
“I almost did it,” he said. “They would’ve loved to have seen it.”
For all the roasts and laughter, some of this is born out of genuine frustration. The payroll cuts last winter stung a number of the veterans, as does the idea of trading Bauer or Hand. Part of that is what prompted the “play for each other” mentality that seems to have encompassed the clubhouse.
And while no one has used a boat engine in the tub yet or needed duct tape for the plane’s propeller, at least one player boarding the charter flight for this trip to Toronto noticed a large section of the plane had paint missing above the door. The paint had peeled away and the steel gray exterior of the plane was exposed.
That definitely made the group chat.
They were left for dead when they ended May with a losing record and were closer to last place than they were first. And they know they will soon be dismissed again in town when the Browns open training camp in a couple of days. But they play on and fight for each other.
This band of no-names and misfits, anonymous relievers and unheralded rookies. They text and they wager and they laugh and they play and they win and then they get up the next day and do it all over again.
And they wait for Jobu to come. He will come.
(Top photo of Tom Berenger and Charlie Sheen: Janet Macoska / Getty Images)
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