Jim Ingraham: Are the Guardians too good for their own good?

Are the Guardians too good for their own good? Like we don't have enough to worry about these days, right? I have been thinking a lot about this existentialist ponderable, because how else can we — and they — justify not just the arc of this season, but also its breadth. Or, to put it another way, the Guardians aren't like any other major league team. Not only do they know it, but they appear to revel in it, regardless of how their fans, or the media, feel. This is a franchise, remember, that over the last two years spent far more money on improving the ballpark than improving the team that plays there. Nobody should begrudge them the former. Nobody should oppose updating the facility. But how about also updating a roster that on too many nights fields a lineup filled with .220 hitters? Who enjoys going to a ballgame in an upgraded facility? Everyone. Who enjoys going to a ballgame to watch a downgraded lineup? No one. The same fans who enjoy going to games in an upgraded facility deplore the refusal to upgrade the roster. Especially if the team is a potential contender. Maybe there are plans to eventually spend money on acquiring better players. Jose Ramirez can't hit ALL the home runs or drive in ALL the runs. But for now it is abundantly clear that when it comes to franchise priorities, roster construction has taken a back seat — a WAY back seat — to the ballpark's efforts at promoting a ballyard cafe society. There is nothing wrong with that, of course. But only if there is a concurrent acknowledgement promoting the importance of acquiring a roster worthy of such grandiose surroundings. Or, to put it another way: enough with the .220 hitters. You don't win pennants with them. What we have here is a franchise that finds itself at the crossroads of what truly is more important to a baseball franchise: style or substance? The current iteration is what it is in Cleveland: aesthetically pleasing as a venue, but philosophically lacking as a baseball factory. The former has been impressively addressed, but the latter continues to be an orphan. It is, moreover, an unfortunate, unnecessary struggle, rooted in, of all things, a case of the franchise sending mixed signals to itself, which have lingered long enough to have become a problem. It's a struggle that began not long after the new house-warming days of the mid-1990s, when Cleveland ruled the American League, had the fanciest ballpark in the league, was the best team in the league and everybody knew it. They were the Indians then, of course, and they won so many division titles, and reached enough World Series, that they could have been called "the thing that wouldn't leave." But eventually the glory days faded, and so did all that came with it. It ended, ironically, with the team's owner selling the franchise to the current owner. Between then and now, the franchise continued to win often enough to reach the playoffs regularly, plus a couple of heart-breaking World Series losses. This being Cleveland, the chips never seemed to fall the right way, but in the meantime the baseball team regrouped, hired future Hall of Fame manager Terry Francona, and the good times were back. But then came a subtle seismic shift of sorts, one that continues to haunt the franchise to this day. It was a nuanced shift that has had repercussions to this day. If you wanted to put a label on this shift you could call it a case of the Guardians being too good for their own good. Translation: the Guards were still a very good team in those days, making occasional appearances in the postseason. Those postseason appearances were gold for the franchise's bean counters, but there was another subtle, even more important, result in that era. Cleveland never won the World Series in those years, but they were almost always in the postseason tournament. Those postseason appearances, especially at home, were a gold mine for the home team. Indeed, for ownership, it was the best of both worlds. The ballclub was cashing in on multiple postseason ticket sales games, with the outside possibility of reaching, or perhaps even winning, the World Series. An ancillary benefit from all of that, was the almost yearly possibility of another postseason trip for Cleveland, and the potential subsequent revenue streams to which that entailed. It was — almost, anyway — the best of both worlds. All of the above helped fuel the team's yearly season ticket sales the following year. And THAT, in turn, was music to the franchise as well. Everything considered, it was win-win for management, right down to, if they didn't win the World Series, not having to spring for the players' expensive World Series rings. Now, about those .200 hitters ... Contact Jim Ingraham at (440) 329-7135 or jingraham4@gmail.com.