An Epoch Battle: So Begins the Season of Grinding

Over the course of the past two weeks, and perhaps even longer, the Cleveland Indians have learned another new trick under the tutelage of Manager Manny Acta.

Grinding.  verb \ˈgrīnd\ to weaken or destroy gradually.

Last night, after 13 full innings, I finally relented and hit the sack.  But not the Indians; they just kept pressing and wearing down the Tigers.

Fukudome, who was 0 for 5 on the night, never showed any sign of despair throughout the entire game.  He simply stood at attention before the plate and watched pitch after pitch fly by, occasionally swinging at and missing a mix of fastballs and breaking balls. But he was not deterred, and was not to be denied.

Nearly seven – 7 – hours into the game, Fukuome stood tall in the batter’s box (though some in Detroit claim he was a bit closer to the plate than normal) and took one for the team.

Detroit, with it’s mega payroll is deluded in its belief that the Indians are at best a quality farm team.  They learned firsthand last night what it means to underestimate the Indians. Michael Rosenberg of the Detroit Free Press cried his way through a column this morning trying to convince himself and the Motor City that they back the better team.

I say, time – the endless grinding of sands through a very narrow hourglass – will tell.  A very long season is about to get even longer.

 

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