Cleveland, It’s That Time of Year Again

The playoffs are different. 

They just are. 

And I am proud to tell you that I first learned this bit of baseball truth from Tito. Terry Francona. The legend. 

It was back in 2022, during my rookie season. And up to that point, I wasn’t really buying all the “it’s just different” stuff. As a young player, you hear people say that about the playoffs all the time, and you can get to a point where you’re almost programmed to tune it out. But Tito, he helped me see the light. 

We had made it to the postseason that year, and I remember telling myself it was just going to be like any other big games I’d played in. It was like: You’ve been to the College World Series. Won the whole thing at Oregon State. This will be no different. 

Then, one chilly Friday afternoon in October, we’re playing the Rays in the playoff opener at our place. Everyone at Progressive is going nuts as the game’s about to start, and all of a sudden I feel this jolt of energy coursing through my entire body as the P.A. announcer begins doing the lineup ceremony. 

I was in the leadoff spot, so I was going to be the first player announced to the crowd. 

The first player after skip went out, that is.  

So Tito has his name called, and the fans honor him as you would expect, as they should. And he jogs out there, super dignified. All the experience in the world, exuding class, just the absolute man. And then, up next….

It’s me. 

The short, stubby rookie who was in the minors not too long ago. The 5’ 9” Asian guy.  

My heart’s beating out of my friggin’ chest as I run out onto the field. And, in my head, it’s just…. 

Don’t trip, dude! DO. NOT. FACEPLANT. One foot after the next. Hold it together! 

A few seconds later, it’s just me and Tito out there in front of the entire stadium. And, truth be told, I wasn’t really sure what I should do while we were standing there. So as I’m looking around and taking it all in, I lean in to Tito.

“Oh, man … this is pretty sick, Skip. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Pause to breathe. OK. 

“Does this ever get old, Skip? This feeling?”

And then, what happened next, I mean … it was just so absolutely perfect.

“No, kid,” Tito says to me with this cool little smile. “No! It doesn’t. This is the best feeling in the entire world.”

You gotta understand: I’m a baseball lifer. What I’m doing now, playing ball … it’s literally all I’ve ever wanted to do. Growing up, I didn’t like school that much. I didn’t really have any hobbies. Baseball was my entire identity. If you had told seven-year-old Steven that he’d be part of something like that conversation with Tito … he would have spontaneously combusted.   

And as amazing as that conversation was, even just being in that spot, on that big stage, just somehow making it to that place … that alone was a gigantic deal for me. 

I wasn’t destined to be a major leaguer. Not by any stretch. 

I mean, yeah, of course, as a kid I’d told everyone who’d listen that I’d be playing pro ball one day. But not a lot of people believed me. And the ones who said that they did … I’m pretty sure they were just humoring me. 

Because they’d look at me and … basically, it didn’t compute.  

I’ve always been pretty short. I don’t run particularly fast. I’m not someone who’s hitting bombs. I wasn’t, as they like to say, “projectable.” If you see me now and think, Wait, this guy plays in the majors? This guy is an All-Star? … just imagine looking at me back when I was seven, or 12, or 15. 

To say I had doubters would be a massive, massive understatement.

When I was a kid and dreaming about the big leagues, even my own mom was like … “Um, yeeeeeah. I don’t know, honey.” 

Now look, don’t get me wrong, I love my mom dearly. She’s great. But she’s also like … how do I put this … she’s like what a lot of people think of when they picture a traditional Asian mom, or when you see that character on a TV show. Super realist, very pragmatic, direct. Not wanting to pump me up too much. 

So when I told Mom that I wanted to be a pro ballplayer, she was basically like: “Well, you’re probably not going to be that … so let’s think of something else more realistic.” 

In high school, when I was going to all these baseball showcases, and totally showing out, and still not getting recognized, I remember my mom being like: “It is what it is. You’re not the biggest person, you know. Let’s just try to find a college that will take you on so you can get your degree for free.” 

Not long after that, when the exact scenario my mom was angling for ended up actually happening, it literally only came to pass by accident. The coach who recruited me to Oregon State, Nate Yeskie, went to a showcase to watch Michael Kopech pitch, and I happened to have two solid hits that day, so I got an opportunity. He saw something in me, and he decided to take a chance on me. I had always believed in myself, but I really needed someone else to believe, too. Nate was that person for me.    

And, from there, trust me when I tell you that I was someone who had to absolutely grind. Like crazy. I had to work my ass off to show that the kid who was too short and too slow and too skinny was still worth betting on. 

I put in work. Day in and day out. And I’ve been that way ever since.  

It’s one of the main reasons why I feel like me and Cleveland are a perfect fit.

This city, the people here, they’re all about show and prove. Cleveland isn’t a place where you can get away with just talking about how great you are, and that’ll be enough to fool people. You have to show people what you’re about. There’s definitely a vibe of hospitality, warmth, and kindness in Cleveland. Neighborliness. But mixed in with all of that, there is an unmistakable grit. It’s ingrained in everyone here. It’s like, go to work, do your job, bust your butt, do what you need to do, and then … go grab a beer with your buddies and laugh with your friends and hug your family. 

That’s tough to beat right there. 

And the love for sports in this town, for the hometown teams … it’s real. Talk to someone from Cleveland, and it won’t be more than a minute or two before the Browns or the Guardians or the Cavs come up. Sports are just part of the fabric of the city. And, as a player, you feel that love at all times. Even in my lowest moments, I hear people cheering me on, and the guys out in the left field stands are shouting positive things and encouraging me. The support from the fans in Cleveland, it’s unwavering. 

Well, actually … let me restate that. There is one condition. It’s unwavering….  

As long as they know you’re putting in the work. As long as they can see it. 

And with this year’s Guardians team, there really is so much good stuff to see. 

This group is special. 

Period. 

I knew it all the way back in the spring when we all showed up two weeks before our scheduled report date. It was like, without saying anything, we were all telling each other: Hey, we’re taking this seriously. We’re here for business. 

From there, we started out winning two series on the West Coast, and just kept building and building. Next thing we knew, it was June and we were still in first place, and we were forming these incredible bonds together. We’d have these amazing team dinners on the road where we’d all get together and eat some steaks and basically just act like a bunch of idiots together. Drinks would be flowing. Guys are making impromptu speeches, or roasting one another, or doing impressions … just making fools of ourselves at some steakhouse in Seattle or Philly or wherever. Latin guys, English-speaking guys. Everyone. Then, back at the team hotel, or in the clubhouse, it’d be everybody in the mix — Mario Kart, cards, fantasy football, whatever’s going on, we’d all be doing it together. No egos, no cliques. 

Case in point, José Ramírez — first-ballot Hall of Famer, our captain — that guy is just as likely as anyone to be up in any card game or cracking loud-ass jokes at the steakhouse. 

And, to be honest with you, that’s super critical to our team’s success. Because everything we do trickles down from that man. His desire to win is otherworldly. It’s inspiring. 

But with José, there’s more to it. It’s not just winning on the field. He wants to win at everything. And, you know what? He kinda does. 

Any time I’m playing cards with that guy, it’s like he has magic powers. I swear he’s some sort of wizard. He somehow knows exactly what cards I have in my hand, every single time. And with video games? Maaaaaan … it’s incredible! In Mario Kart, he’ll be playing against Will Brennan or Tyler Freeman, and I’ll be watching like ... Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this. Are you guys seeing this right now? José will be gathering items on Lap 1 and then hold onto them … until the third lap, when it’s the absolute optimal time to deploy them. Like, everything he does is purposeful. He’s not just playing. He’s got a strategy. In friggin’ Mario Kart. And he is meticulous with it, super serious.  

You guys don’t even understand how lucky we all are to be rolling with this man. How special he is. On so many different levels.

Of course, just because you act foolish at a restaurant or play cards together doesn’t mean you’re gonna win any games. And I feel like that’s where our skipper comes in.

I can’t say enough about Stephen Vogt. He’s such an incredibly solid dude. And he absolutely just gets it. He understands what it’s like to be a player, how to lead, how to inspire greatness. And what he does is never for show or over-the-top. If something needs to be said or done, he’ll definitely handle it. But, at the same time, he has the utmost faith in his players. And that belief, it’s something you can feel. It means so much to everyone on this team. 

Being someone who was in our position just a few years ago, he’s able to relate to anything we’re going through. He’s experienced slumps, he’s been made to look silly at the plate, he knows what it feels like to make an error that costs the team a game. He’s literally seen it all in this game. And rather than getting down on guys, he does all he can to lift people up and help them reach their potential. 

At the end of the day, he just loves this group so much. He truly believes we have what it takes to do something special this year in Cleveland.

And he definitely has us all believing that this can be our time.  

So now it’s like … this, right now, these playoffs: This can be our moment. 

And by “our” there, I definitely mean all of us. 

So before I get out of here, I just really want to make sure that you guys know how important you are to what’s about to go down this postseason. 

When you pack out our stadium, and you’re making it hard for the other side, that’s not just some talking point for the TV announcers. That’s real. Not only does it make life miserable for our opponents, but it’s also an energy that we can feel, something we feed off of. And it can absolutely be the difference between winning and losing close games sometimes, so it’s critical that we all move in unison from here on out.  

It really does feel like something special is brewing with this group, and if you’re anything like me, you’re getting goosebumps even just imagining what’s about to go down over the next few weeks in Cleveland.  

I truly believe that we’ve got as good a shot as anyone in the postseason to make history.

And seriously … how fun would that be? 

I can’t wait to get rolling. 

Like Tito said: This, right now, what we’re about to experience together, the playoffs…. 

It’s the best feeling in the world.