a sense of belonging

a sense of belonging

fiction
Edward w Pritchard


Many of us are alone and being alone and in a solitary environment can cause a certain misery depending on one's expectations and beliefs concerning affiliations and friendships.

One affiliation that I renew each April that connects me to the place I live in and with others I don't know but who become a part of me for a few months is my willingness to become a hopeful fan of the Cleveland Indians baseball team.

Each Spring since I was seven I over estimate the strength of our local baseball team. By end July they usually have let me down and some years they have actually broken my heart.

Still hope grows anew this time each year. The first game will be played soon.

My brothers and I and a friend or two are arguing over the Cleveland Indians record this year. Predictions are from 95 to the low of 85. The 85 is my guess, the lowball fans choice for wins for our local team the Cleveland Indians.

Hitting is promising barring injuries but our pitching is so/so. Speed is fair but already injuries have hurt us. We don't have much major league type power. Our coach is a players guy, we are not sure if that is good or bad. The record will settle later if we had a successful year.

Or does the record matter at all?

 For a few months each Spring I am one of thousands of local hopeful fans of the Cleveland Indians. I argue passionately with fellow fans concerning my expectations and beliefs about the success of our team. I can talk to people I don't know in line at Wal Mart about how our team is doing and the woes they are causing us with weak pitching and no power. Will this August's lament of the day locally be about all the pitchers we have brought up or salvaged from around the league with sore arms, losing records and unfamiliar names?

First game this week.

 I, me, we, and us are on the edge of our seats around the TV and radios hoping for a winning year by our team the Cleveland Indians.