I Heart . . . Indians!

Ryan of I Heart Halos sent a BIG package of Indians to me in exchange for a bunch of Angels I sent him. He was good enough to include a few Omar cards I didn't have, plus a great Thome bat relic.

I like the Thome, despite the fact that he is wearing his Phillies uniform. It was a sad day in Cleveland when Thome turned his back on the organization that allowed him to flourish despite his penchant for big swings-and-misses. He was branded a traitor, but I still liked him as a player, as long as he hadn't gone to the Yankees, Red Sox, White Sox or Tigers. Little did I know that in three years he would bolt the Phillies for his home state of Illinois and the hated White Sox. The rivalry has calmed in the last few years, but it used to be very heated. I think, by now, quite a few Clevelanders have forgiven him. I only hope that he wears his Indians uniform when he is inducted into the Hall of Fame.

As usual, Omar the Magnificent shows off his unbelievable talent. He became an excellent #2 hitter, and was great at avoiding the runners, in this case the Big Hurt. The two years that he and Roberto Alomar were two of the most amazing years to watch fielders. People were eager to see the Indians play the field because these two made some astounding plays. The double-plays they turned were a thing of beauty.

I love these Flair Showcase cards, although I'm still not sure how they get Row 1, 2 and 3 from Grace, Power and whatever the other one was. Sandy was one of the better steals from the Padres that the Indians made, along with Joe Carter. They tried again recently with another son of a Major Leaguer, but the Barfield for Kouzmanoff trade didn't work out so well for the Tribe.

My mom LOVES Orel Hershiser! She always, always says, whenever she hears his name, "He is such a gentleman!" I hated to tell her that his nickname was The Bulldog. Those years, when Hershiser joined the Indians, were years when everyone didn't laugh about coming to Cleveland. They were the Beasts of the Midwest, and it was a travesty of justice that they didn't win in either of their trips to the World Series. My heart aches every time I think of Jose Mesa pitching with the lead in the ninth. . . .

A little Cracker Jack to soothe my soul, thanks to Ryan.

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