Buy that Cleveland Indians gear now. It'll all be collectors' items in a few years.
The Cleveland Baseball Club is the latest to move away from a potentially insensitive nickname and embrace the 21st century.
The team has been under fire for years -- and I mean years -- for the Indians nickname. There were protests going back as far as the 1940s. One group of Native Americans has been standing at the main gate for every series opener going back to the 1960s.
I suspect MLB had a hand in this. The league kind of forced its hand when it came to Chief Wahoo, leading the team to agree to not sell any merchandise with the logo, nor to wear the logo on its uniform again. Of course, they did use it that season at least twice. And, although it isn't on their team shop website, Chief Wahoo is still available through official retailers, some of which were manufactured "in 2020," according to the sites.
I could come out and talk about the nickname supposedly came from a former player with Native blood in him. I could talk about how, for decades, a majority of Native Americans would look at the name and shrug their shoulders and say, "Who cares?"
Instead, I'll just come out and say it: I personally have never had a problem with the nickname. It doesn't really show disrespect, although Chief Wahoo kind of pushed it a bit. But, it isn't up to me. It's up to the Native Americans who are "represented" by the nickname, and if they don't like it, then so be it.
My parents told me to buy as much Cleveland Indians merch I could get a hold of. They said it will be really valuable someday since they're going to stop making it.
This is the same couple who, in 1992, paid the $1.50 cover price for Superman #75, the "Death of Superman" comic, then paid tons more for a safety deposit box just for that one comic. 28 years later, that safety deposit box has cost them thousands, and that comic book is worth about $1.50.
Hear that? That's my inheritance blowing me kisses goodbye.
I digress. If the Cleveland Baseball Club wants to take advantage of this, they would change their name to the Cleveland Buckeyes. After all, that was the name of the Negro League team that played there through the 1940s (where Larry Doby got his start). And what Cincinnati Reds fan, in their right mind, would say out loud, "The Buckeyes suck"?
On a completely unrelated note: As I'm watching the Ravens/Browns game tonight, they keep referring to Baltimore's defensive coordinator as "Wink Martindale," even though his real first name is Don. At least they aren't referring to Baltimore's OC as "Chuck Woolery."
CHRISTMAS MOVIE REVIEW: RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER
This isn't a review of the TV special per se. There's really nothing wrong with this classic, except that it desperately needs to have the audio re-synched.
No, my problem with this show is that Santa Claus is a f***ing jerk.
When we first see him, he won't eat his wife's cooking. She takes this as an insult, because this film was made in 1964 and all women were good for back then were cooking and looking worried.
The very next scene shows Donner, one of the reindeer (yeah, I know, it's really Donder. Don't write to me.) and his wife, Mrs. Donner, celebrating the birth of their first son, Rudolph. Of course, Santa can't be bothered to give Donner Donner and Mrs. Donner their privacy; he just saunters in and announces his presence. As if he didn't make it clear enough who he is, he then sings a song about himself.
After his self-serving song, he proclaims Rudolph unfit to pull his sleigh because he's different. Yep, he's Santa the bigot.
When next we see the not-so-jolly-old-elf, he is listening to "elf practice". The elves sing a song that looks and sounds pretty complicated for a group of toy manufacturers. All Santa can say is, "Hmmm. Needs work." Then he leaves.
You know what? I'm not going on. I'm ticked off now. Screw your milk and cookies, fat man!
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