Ah, the eve of Opening Day. My third straight that I will get to see live. Columnists are predicting the our season will rival the ‘88 season, in which we started 0 – 21. The only movement in the standings we’re expected to make is from 4th place to 5th, as Tampa Bay is likely to climb ahead of us for the first time (forcing us to discard the comfort of “well, at least we’re not Tampa Bay.”) Stranger still is the aging of our nostalgia.
Baltimore is a pretty nostalgic town in general, and in particular with sports teams (people still talk about the Colts leaving town 24 years ago). With the Orioles, it’s always the same few moments that live in Oriole lore: Frank’s homerun out of Memorial Stadium, Tippy picking off three consecutive runners in ‘83, Flanagan striking out those last two batters at Memorial Stadium, Cal’s 2131 victory lap, Eddie returning to hit his 500th, that punk in the Yankees outfield stealing our series in ‘96, and our wire to wire ‘97. And then it stops. Not just the winning — that’s obvious to anyone who looks at our record over the past ten seasons — but the entire procession of Real Orioles. You know, people who want to be on the team, people who are likely to stick around the organization after their playing days are over, people who aren’t shooting motivational promos for the Red Sox in the ALCS.
Obviously, most of that is about winning; we start winning, and players are proud to be a part of the organization… but it’s a bit discouraging that no current Oriole seems to have any appreciation for the team’s past, or even any positive memory of the team beyond a vague childhood recollection of Cal’s streak. Those perennial “Orioles” who hang around — Boog Powell, Jim Palmer, Rick Dempsey, Mike Flanagan… they get a little grayer every season (well, not Palmer), and serve as a reminder of the growing distance between the Orioles we have always honored in those between-inning-montages, and the team we have now. And I know every Orioles fan is optimistically flashing forward twenty-five seasons when Nick Markakis or Adam Jones throws out the first pitch on Opening Day while fans reminisce about the glory days they brought us. Maybe. But maybe not.
Me, I just really miss Rex Barney. He had been the PA announcer from before I was born until his death in August ‘97. I grew up mostly after the true Orioles glory days, but the memories of them weren’t so distant then, and every couple of years we had reason to believe they could return (’89, ‘92, ‘96, ‘97), so being an Orioles fan wasn’t all that hard. So, any memory I have of Rex Barney offering a fan a contract or his trademarked “thank youuuu,” means we were in pretty good shape. After his death (in the middle of our wire-to-wire season), we lost the pennant to Cleveland and haven’t had a winning season since. We’ve lost other individuals who meant a lot to Orioles fans since that time — Cal Sr, Chuck Thompson, Elrod Hendricks, Wild Bill, etc… — and none of them have been replaced by any new iconic figure to the team. But the death of Rex Barney — at least timing-wise — really did serve as a kind of bookend for any kind of hope for Orioles fans.
But what can you do? I’ll be there tomorrow in the stands cheering for a bunch of Orioles who don’t even want to be Orioles begin a season in which nobody thinks they will break .500. And like everyone else, I’ll be looking for excuses for optimism — hoping Jones reaches base, that Guthrie gives a solid performance, and the like. But I’m also sure that between innings, and probably sometime before or during the pre-game ceremonies, the fans will be treated to old (and getting older) video clips of the team’s glory days, and that the loudest ovation tomorrow will be the camera landing on some former Oriole who is sitting in the ballpark. Ah well… at least we had those glory days… at least we’re not Tampa Bay.
