I finally broke down and put the tattered ticket where it belongs: In the trash.
I’ve been carrying it since the Cleveland Indians ended the 2007 season in game four of the American League Division Series. I thought about tossing it on New Year’s Day and then again at the start of Spring Training, but it stayed tucked in my wallet as a reminder.
I wanted to remember the wins and the losses and the struggles and the comebacks. Mostly, I wanted to remember the stories. There were some good ones and some bad ones. But even bad baseball stories are good.
There was: The Captain and A-Rod and Joba and The Franchise and IPK and The Big Lefty and Mr. New York and Hip-Hip Jorge and Melky and Robbie and Bobby and Hit-eki and Shelley and The Rocket and The Big G and Mo in the ninth.
Moose fought out of a corner like all the great ones have to do and Chien-Ming Wang was simply great, as usual.
It ended too soon, but the best things usually do. That ticket stayed with me through the winter and into the spring, but the memories will last forever.
Now it’s time to make some more.