Readers' Opinions

First of all, let me just say that I’m as thrilled as anyone to see the Dolan family open their up-until-now hermetically-sealed wallets and acquire some free agent talent for the 2013 Cleveland Indians baseball season.

People wonder what prompted them to spend so "un-Dolan-like" this year, given that prior to this past winter, the Indians courted – and actually signed – free agents with about the same frequency of a papal resignation. I suggest that if you could have persuaded Mark Shapiro to divulge the projected 2013 Tribe attendance figures late last year, anticipated attendance numbers would have rivaled those of the official Mike Lombardi Fan Club.

Last issue, as I was rambling on about how I had missed the opportunities to witness some rare history-making moments as an Indians fan, it also reminded me of how consistently bad the Cleveland franchise actually was. Whether under-capitalized, under-manned or under-managed – typically, a combination of all three –  the Indians of the sixties, seventies, eighties, and the early nineties were consistently bad – with a few exceptions.

With spring training now officially underway, and optimism permeating the air (unless it's someone in the neighborhood and they're back to smoking that 'funny stuff' again), I thought it would be a perfect time to take a look back at a team which had been a major disappointment the previous year, and whose expectations were not particularly rosy for the following season. Sound familiar, Cleveland?

Ever wonder just why you follow Cleveland sports fully knowing that you are likely to be disappointed yet again – for the umpteenth time? Ever wonder what guys like Freud, Jung, and maybe even Pavlov would classify you as, if they had the chance? Hmm...I see you shaking your head 'no' while reaching for a No. 2 pencil at the same time. Frankly, I'm concerned about you already.

Here's the deal: I will ask you a series of sports-related questions. Your job: Answer them. Take all the time you need. However, if you're still contemplating the best answer for question No. 2 by the time the next issue of the Observer comes out, you're taking this a bit too seriously.

As a person who loves to write I was delighted to have the opportunity to attend two informative and interesting presentations given by authors who once lived in the Cleveland area. On Wednesday, Nov. 3, I joined a large group at the Bay Village Branch Library to listen to Emilie Richards discuss the journey which led her to a very successful writing career.

She is the author of over sixty novels, including "Whiskey Island," a mystery thriller set right here in Cleveland. Ms. Richards shared many useful tips on the "how to's" of writing for publication. One which I felt was most helpful was "ideas are everywhere." I believe many people would like to write but don't know where to begin.

As I listened to Emilie Richards I thought of the many potential reporters for the Observer who would like to try their hand at writing for publication but don't know how to get started. If you are interested in writing for the Observer but feeling intimidated, please contact the paper and speak with Tara or Denny Wendell. They will give you support and information to help you get your news and/or ideas into the paper. I am grateful to Emilie Richards for her many writing tips and plan to read one of her latest novels, "A Truth for a Truth," published this year.

Part of a passage in Tara Wendell’s article in the Feb. 5 issue of the Observer about Mayor Sutherland's Bay resident satisfaction survey put me in a nostalgic mode.

Among the relatively few areas of frustration cited in the survey, a “shortage of restaurants/bars” was listed. Seeing that quickly got my memory cells energized to recall the dining-out options that existed within the city of Bay Village in the mid-1960s to 1970s, when I was among its residents.

As I remember, the Peach Tree Restaurant was the only general menu, full-service dining spot in town before closing in the early- to mid-70s. Peach Tree was located in the old Kroger plaza at Dover Center Road and the railroad tracks (now the Dover Junction shopping complex), situated just north of the Cunningham Drug Store.

(With heartfelt apologies to Clement Clark Moore)



'Twas the night before deadline, and all through the house
Fresh out of ideas, and annoying my spouse.
My head was hung low and filled with despair,
Dashing hopes that an idea soon would be there.

Faced with a reality which I most assuredly dread,
Visions of bad sports teams danced in my head.
Tried on my Browns helmet, then Indians cap,
Provided little motivation – in fact, feared I might snap.

Are you having a hot, hot summer? Are you having trouble cooling off in the sun? There are lots of ways to cool off in Bay Village! Here are some of of my favorite ideas to stay cool.

Being hot is not a problem if you're at the Bay Village city pool or at Lake Erie. The Bay pool is a fun way to beat the heat because there are lots of friends to play with and lots of things to do. You can go down the slides, go off the diving boards or just swim around.

If you are a mom in Bay, you can bring a book to read when your kids are having fun swimming. You can also have fun swimming in Lake Erie. I love Huntington Park! If you didn't come to swim, you can pick up sea glass or watch the waves come into shore.

As a newer resident of Bay Village, I am quite interested in the city's history, especially now that the Bicentennial looms on the horizon. I wonder what life was like in 1810 for the first settlers? I'm sure they endured many hardships and challenges as they began building our community. When I moved to Bay Village I was unaware it had any historical significance. To me it was just that rather well-to-do suburb located near Lake Erie.

Now that I call Bay Village home, I am learning how erroneous my perception was. Our community is more than just a place to live. It's a unique combination of people, businesses, land and heritage. From the school crossing guard who watches over our children come rain or shine, to the clergy who preach in our many churches, offering hope in these troubling times, to the many volunteers who reach out to our less fortunate, to our police and fire fighters who provide for our safety...and the list goes on and on.

It was immediately after the Indians were pounded by the Yankees for a second consecutive loss last week when one of the TV announcers declared that the next game for the Tribe was a "must-win" ballgame. 

While I found it mildly amusing that only eight games into the season, some were already hitting the panic button, I also found the realization somewhat disheartening that in Cleveland, that button – and usually rightfully so –  gets pushed quite frequently.

Ever since Mark Shapiro became general manager of the Cleveland Indians, he and his successor, Chris Antonetti, have talked of the narrow "window of opportunity" in which a smaller market organization, such as the Indians, is forced to operate.

The gist of management's logic is that since they can only control the "core" players for a relatively limited period of time, they pretty much need to win – and win big – once that window opens, as it won't be open too long. Once free agency becomes an issue, it's not realistic for Tribe fans to think the Indians will be able to keep many, if indeed any, of those players under contract.

Much has been said and written about the lack of fan support at Tribe games to date. In spite of the fact the Indians have been able to replicate their early-season success of a year ago and again reside at or near the top of their division this year, they are dead last in attendance in the major leagues.

"But, how can this be, oh Learned One? How is this so?"

Friend, your queries are understandable. After all, isn't this the same organization which set attendance records slightly more than a mere decade ago? Well then, Grasshopper, why don't we take a couple of microseconds and examine the issue...

When we last met, I promised to devote this column to the hitting – or lack thereof – of the 2012 Cleveland Indians. I also suggested that you'd be better off sitting when reading this, as I was certain it wouldn't be pretty. After an anemic homestand, the Tribe’s bats sprang to life in Kansas City. We could be in for a wild ride, folks. So make your way to the nearest chair and brace yourself for some “offensive” comments.

We'll start in the outfield:



1. Ah-Choo! (Bless you): Right fielder Shin-Soo Choo hasn't been the same player since he was popped for DUI last spring. On top of that, he was injured for a good chunk of the season. He maintains all those problems are behind him, and we can only hope that they are. Defensively, he may have the most accurate arm in baseball, but this offensively-challenged team needs him to return to 2010 form, and fast. So far, he still seems lost at the plate; without question he's a key to the team's success this year.

It is with a heavy heart I announce the fourth and final installment of my 2012 predictions regarding the Cleveland sports scene. Please, please hold the applause until you've finished reading the entire column (this ain't your kid's commencement, you know) as other readers may find your outbursts disturbing. I know that I do.

October: Embattled Browns President Mike Holmgren is still trying to sell Cleveland sports fans on his credibility, which came under serious attack on NFL draft day months earlier. Holmgren committed what many considered the "faux pas of the century" after trading up to secure the second draft pick, presumably to take the consensus second-best quarterback available, Robert Griffin III.

Venturing onward with predictions that make even a guy like Nostradamus look inept, 'tis with bated breath – or is it just early-onset COPD? – we gaze eagerly upon the third quarter of 2012...

July: The Indians are still in full damage control mode, dodging negative fallout from the January revelation that pitcher (formerly known as) Fausto Carmona was, in reality, some guy named Roberto Hernandez Heredia. Mercifully, the Indians finally conclude and release the results of a three-month-long investigation into the background of every employee of the entire Cleveland Indians organization.

The good news is that they didn't find any more players with phony Dominican identities. The bad news is that the investigation reveals the organization has been – unknowingly – employing three illegal aliens, two actual aliens, and a female impersonator named "Trixy."

Have you ever had a family tradition that you count on and then suddenly one year it changes? That’s what happened to me this 4th of July, and I’m going to tell you all about it.

One tradition that didn’t change was my family went to Blossom Music Center to see the Cleveland Orchestra play and watch fireworks the night before the 4th. Sometimes we go with friends and family and sometimes just us. This year we went with family and friends on July 3rd and it was spectacular.

Can you imagine the smell of elephant dung? I mean actually having the elephant dung put under your nose to smell it? I don’t have to imagine because I smelled it on my first safari. It smelled a lot like horse poop and I learned that is because horses and elephants eat similar foods. Even though it smells like horse poop, it sure is a lot bigger!

My family and I just got back from going on our first safari. We went to Sambona Wildlife Reserve and is about three-and-a-half hours from where we live. The Reserve was created in 2002 to restore the wildlife and environment slowly back to how it was before the first white settlers came to South Africa.

A long time ago (well, almost 45 years) in a galaxy (technically, a ’67 Ford Galaxie) far, far away (well, if you were walking, it was very far), there came a time of revolution (I tried to drive without a permit)…

For those of you otherwise unaware, the above (without my parenthetical comments, of course) is the screen introduction to the classic movie, "Star Wars." I use it as a clever segue to introduce you to my fascinating experience, not only as fan,  but a budding film artist, who attended the 1968 NFL title game between the Browns and the Baltimore Colts at Cleveland Municipal Stadium.

I was deeply saddened last week when I learned of the passing of former Browns owner Art Modell.

But NOT for the reasons you may think.

You see, Modell's passing guaranteed us fans that the local media would feel obligated to remind us – relentlessly – for the next week or so of the role this guy played in taking our beloved Brownies on the midnight train (with apologies to Gladys Night) to Maryland.

The WBV Observer is excited to kick off the new year with a new columnist: Jeff Bing, a lifelong Westlake resident and long-suffering Cleveland sports fan. Jeff will offer readers a lighthearted take on the teams that break our hearts but always have us coming back for more. A frequent contributor to Bud Shaw’s Spin column in The Plain Dealer, Jeff will provide much-needed comic relief to carry us through the ups and downs of Cleveland sports.

...

Doesn't it bother you when, every December, some self-proclaimed expert in his field of choice goes back and recounts, month by month, the highlights of the year? You know the drill: He acts as if we were all living under a rock or something the past year, and we had no idea what had transpired over the preceding twelve months.

Isn't that just about the easiest column to write? And to simply reiterate and rehash all the negative stuff that happened with our professional sports teams over the past year? As Cleveland sports fans, don't you think we've suffered enough?

Our forefathers, in attempting the redress of many oppressive actions by the Kingdom of Britain in the mid-1700s, were just seeking the full free democratic rights of other Englishmen under King George.

However, the British considered the American territories as just colonies to be used and exploited in whatever way best suited the kingdom’s interests. This attitude ensured that armed conflict was inevitable. It came the morning of April 19, 1775.

British soldiers, sent to these shores to keep the colonists in line, advanced on Americans, first in a meadow in Lexington and then later near a bridge in Concord, Mass. – shots were fired and later immortalized in a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson which begins with these words: “Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.”

With the tight presidential race and the contentious casino gambling issue garnering much of the election spotlight this year, one important issue may not be at the forefront of voters' minds. The Cuyahoga County Library system has a 2.5 mill levy (Issue 127) on the ballot, and the sagging economy may cause voters to tighten their purse strings at the polls.

There is a bridge that crosses over the First River in Stellenbosch, South Africa. I can see it from my house. People walk and drive over it everyday, going to their jobs, going out to eat or going home. But under the bridge, there are people who don’t have anywhere to go. They are homeless. They are hungry. They live there.

I have met so many people who are homeless. One person I met is Martin. He had open sores all over his hands and arms and was very, very skinny. His face looked sad, sweaty and tired. He told my mom that he had AIDS and was in so much pain. He asked for money because he needed treatment. My mom doesn’t normally give money, just food, but Martin started crying and said that he was dying.

It was not too many years ago, while still considering a career in psychology, that I took a class which included the examination of some of the social aspects of professional sports and their impact on the human psyche. I always had more than a casual curiosity why any sane person would follow three professional sports teams which – for the most part, anyway – routinely had their rears kicked (as I recall, that’s technical talk) on a regular basis, only to still come back for more.

Isn’t January like the worst month of the year?

I mean, after building up to Christmas since, what – early July? – and now, suddenly, you’re telling me that it’s all over? Now, what do we have to look forward to other than cold and snow? Seriously, besides more snow and sub-zero cold?

Personally, I was kind of looking forward to the fiscal cliff. So I could practice my swan dive off of it, into Lake Erie. Then I could report back to you on whether the lake had frozen yet or not.

So much to talk about, so few words to do it with... 

We could discuss the firing of Manny Acta. 

The Indians? Nah…too depressing. 

We could discuss the impending firing of Pat Shurmur. 

The Browns? Nah…too depressing. 

We could discuss the relatively "safe" job security of Byron Scott.

 The Cavs are still light years away. You guessed it: Nah...too depressing. 

However, I was able to attend the Browns' debacle against the Buffalo Bills in Week 3. As bad as the game was, other ceremonies included the induction of former Browns Ernie Green and Clarence Scott into the Browns Hall of Fame. The funny thing about it was, those two gentlemen weren't at the epicenter of the storm otherwise known as Cleveland Browns football.

“So…What brings you in today, Mr. Bing?”

“You ought to know by now, Doc. And please, call me ‘Jeff’.” 

“Not a problem, Mr. Bing. As I recall, you have some ‘competitive issues’ with certain professional sports teams in the area, is that correct?” 

“That’s NOT correct. Actually, I have ‘competitive issues’ with ALL of the professional sports teams in the area.”

I'm going to become a grandfather in a couple of months, and it's gotten me to thinking of late that I'd best get my act together for this "grandpa" business, and pronto. Aren't we grandfathers – when posed a question by our grandchild – supposed to look pensively into the distance, scratch the stubble on our collective faces (because we forgot to shave) and then hit the kid with some kind of awe-inspiring response that would make even the great philosophers take note?

The history of Memorial Day, formerly called Decoration Day, is poetically rich across America where at least 24 towns claim to be the birthplace of this American tradition to honor the men and women who have given their lives as the final sacrifice while serving in the armed services of our country.

One such patriotic claim comes from Boalsburg, Penn., in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains. In October 1864, Emma Hunter and her friend Sophie Keller gathered garden flowers to place on the grave of her father Reuben, a Union Army surgeon who had died on Sept. 19 in Annapolis, Md., of typhoid. On the same day, Elizabeth Weaver Myers brought flowers for her son Amos’ grave. Private Amos Myers had fallen at Gettysburg on July 3, 1863. These three women also put flowers on the graves of other soldiers in this precious cemetery. They agreed to meet on July 4, 1865, to once again honor the dead soldiers in this cemetery.

The room was filled with the scent of pine. A whimsical wonderland surrounded the bottom of the tree. Tiny trains flew around silver tracks. A stable stood next to the trunk, empty. Perfectly positioned lights shone on the empty wooden barn. Ornaments, sparkling garlands of gold and silver plus tinsel decorated the eight-foot spruce which stood in the corner of my childhood home. The mantle was decorated with greenery and two large stockings hung, waiting to be filled.

These days before Christmas are busy days filled with anticipation and wonder, busy with all the pre-holiday preparations. I sometimes feel overwhelmed. I wish I could go back to the room with the eight-foot tree and just settle in for a little while. I would look into an ornament and laugh at the lopsided view of the room it presented. My snow globe beckoned me to enter its wintry wonderland.

Tuesday, July 4, 1944, in Bay Village
 
It was hard to fall asleep the night before the Fourth of July just thinking about all the goodies that were going to be piled high under the big tree across from the Community House the next day. Checking it out was one of the wonderful parts of the day.

Up on top were the two bicycles, one boy's and one girl's, for the winning raffle tickets. Underneath were all the rest of the goodies: basketballs, baseballs, footballs, bats, baseball mitts, roller skates, tennis rackets and balls, badminton sets, croquet sets, decorated wooden boxes, books, dolls, paper dolls and more. For Mom and Dad, there were clocks, radios, mixers, toasters, hand-crocheted towels, pillow cases, hot pads, aprons, dishes and glass sets. It was a smorgasbord of goodies to see, and it was all donated by area merchants.

Let me tell you about my father-in-law...

I first met Andy Kroft in the summer of 1970. He was a big, imposing guy – well over six feet tall, ex-Army with the crew-cut to match – and a stare that could burn a hole right through you, which I think from the very beginning, in my case anyway, was kind of what he was hoping to do. After all, I was seeing one of his six daughters – one of his younger daughters I might add – and he already had experience dealing with guys like me: the long-haired skinny punks that we were. But this really isn't about me or the punks I rolled with.

A funny thing happened on the way to the Cleveland Marathon, during the drive from Westlake to Browns Stadium that morning: I realized I had completely lost my desire to run anymore. Some serious soul-searching commenced after stinking up the half-marathon field a couple of weeks ago (and yes, I mean "stinking" both figuratively AND literally, which I'll explain later) I have figured out the reason. Anyway, let's start at the beginning...

Well over a year ago, in my quest to become some form of – in my estimation, anyway – a "super runner," I began a crazy marathon training schedule which included running on consecutive days two or three days a week. For me it triggered a level of pain in my left shin comparable to, say, water-boarding. Finally I had X-rays taken, revealing a stress fracture.

When the towers of the World Trade Center fell in New York on Sept. 11, 2001, they fell in Westlake. When the Pentagon burned in Washington, it burned in Westlake and when Flight 93 dove out of the sky into an open field in Shanksville, it crashed in Westlake, too.

My wife, Elaine, and I heard of a plane hitting a Trade Center Tower on our car radio just after we finished our walk at the Westlake Recreation Center, while driving to the temporary location of Porter Library. Driving home from there we heard of the second tower being hit and knew, as others did, we were being attacked. Soon after arriving home, and watching events on TV, we learned of the Pentagon crash and then, the missing flight boring into the ground in Pennsylvania.

This is a response to the Bay Village City Council Meeting on March 15, 2010. During this meeting Council approved the site location for the Bay Skate and Bike Park (BSBP). As a result, the project will now move to the Planning Commission.

Residents representing The Bay Village Historical Society (BVHS) expressed their opposition to this site and promised legal action against the City if such an approval should happen. The BVHS claims that such a location will lead to a violation of the agreement established by the Cahoon Will, and is not the right location because it is within the historical area designated by City Council.

The threat of legal action created a new concern for councilmen deciding the issue because they had to consider the tremendous litigation fees that might burden the City budget as a consequence to their decision. Also during this meeting, Law Director Gary Ebert outlined a historical and legal context surrounding the Cahoon Will and the City’s excellent reputation of addressing possible violations, supporting the idea that simply installing a park does not violate the Will.

I would like to preface my opinion with some background information: I am fond of history. I am fond of Bay Village. I am fond of Bay Village History. After the March 15 meeting, I am NOT fond of The Bay Village Historical Society.

It’s that time of year. New Year's resolution time. We’ve been discussing ours and I think we’re finally settled. The wife plans to get more exercise – walk more, ride less. She’s never been an exercise fanatic and I have. She’s never had a weight problem and I do. Go figure.

My resolution is to eat less eel. Yep, eel. I mean, I had to come up with something I could actually accomplish. One year I vowed to lose 25 pounds, and that lasted till the end of January. The year I pledged to clean out the garage was a disaster when everything ended up in the driveway covered in snow. So this year, no eel. No problem.

So what is your New Year’s resolution? I have a suggestion: Get involved in what’s going on in city government. There’s something for everyone.

Now that football is over – at least until training camp opens in just over five months – and professional basketball never really got off the ground, it's time to turn our attention to the good old Tribe, who begin spring training in just a couple of weeks.

Those of you who read this column – and I'd like to thank all three of you; you're wonderful relatives, really – will recall that my last effort focused on memories from a Browns AFC Championship game. By request, I've been asked to write a similar piece about the Indians. (Truth be told, I've been requested by readers on occasion to do a variety of things; unfortunately, most of those requests are pleas for me NOT to write).

According to legend, many years ago a bus driver transporting legendary Cleveland coach Paul Brown and his team to a rival football stadium became hopelessly lost. Visibly shaken by the snafu, the poor driver apologized time and again to Brown. Finally, the coach tried – in his own inimitable way – to calm the man.

"I don't blame you, my friend," Brown reassured the driver, "I blame the man who hired you."

Ahhh...springtime and baseball. If it has somehow escaped your attention, the Indians' season opener is upon us. Now, be honest here: What else represents a "fresh start" – the proverbial "new beginning" if you will – in quite the same manner as the MLB season opener? They go hand-in-hand, much like Grady Sizemore and the disabled list. Yes, baseball has always been numero uno in my book. (Looks like that free CD from Rosetta Stone is already paying dividends, doesn't it?)

Not surprisingly, some of my very first memories revolve around baseball: I attended a Cubs game when I was just barely into grade school – as my grandparents resided in Chicago – and I'll never forget the ivy which adorned the outfield walls at Wrigley Field. Nor will I forget the roar of the crowd, the excitement which seemed to ride on every pitch, or the first beer spilled on my back (which, not surprisingly, is directly linked to me also uttering my first swear words).

The 2010 Bay Village budget process will be coming to closure at the end of March. There is not much time left for residents to make a difference in the direction the city could be headed.
 
There are Bay Village city councilmen that do not understand nor have attempted to grasp the importance of an animal care and control officer. Their lack of understanding potentially raises significant safety issues for our animals and Bay residents.
 
Of the approximate 14,000-plus residents in Bay, it is estimated that at least half of those probably have two or more domesticated pets.

And I thought the Bay mayoral election was over! Given that Alex Dade and some of his family members combined to provide something like one-half the campaign funds for Jim Scott's mayoral campaign, I can see why Dade might be a bit frustrated by the result. You need to let it go, Alex! You're just not going to be a power behind the throne. At least for the next 4 years. That's reality.

I chose to ignore Dade’s rantings in his columns during the campaign, chalking them up to Scott-induced negative campaign tactics. The continuation of the attacks and derivative misinformation, however, require a response.

So here we go, let's project some reality: