Tuesday, March 12, 2013

It is I, the great and powerful ttfc

The ttfc (thatteamfromcleveland) has always been a man behind the curtain.  Ignore the illogical rationalizing!  Obey the provocative opinions! 

I love thinking and writing about the Tribe, but I shy from an internet presence.  I don't want to go down a series of tubes.  That just doesn't sound pleasant. 

Plus, it is all so confusing.  What is the difference between Twitter, a RSS feed, and a blog?  Let's just say that things were simpler in my times.  Tell the town gossip.  Word will get around. 

However, this year, I have decided to make some of my work available at The Tribe Daily.  I've read Nino's blog for years, and when he made the opportunity available, I jumped, tubes be damned.

However, the chance to write for The Tribe Daily requires that I step from behind the facade that I erected to protect my privacy.  It is I, Bryan Belknap, the man behind the curtain.  I am ttfc. Ignore all my post about Matt LaPorta!  Read my keen insight into Michael Brantley!

There is a daily deluge e-mails asking "who is ttfc?", "what is ttfc's back story?," and "why does every idiot think he/she can write about baseball?"

Well, here is a bit of my back story.  I wasn't born in Cleveland.  I was born in Iowa, childhood home of Superman and birth place of Bob Feller. 

In fact, I grew up with Bob Feller.  He lived catty corner to my childhood home. 

That is right, I grew up with Mr. Cleveland Indian, "Rapid Robert".  Bob Feller is deservedly the most beloved Cleveland Indian.  He was a war hero, a key force in Cleveland's last World Series win, winner of awards innumerable, and Tribe ambassador for over half a century.  If you want to name your child, "Feller," I understand.

But as a kid, I hated him.

Oh yeah, screw your scorn!  You weren't there.  You don't know.  Who wants to play ball with a seven year old that throws in the mid-90s?  We would play catch, and I come home crying with blisters on left hand.  I can still hear my mom saying, "I don't want you playing catch with the Feller boy, anymore." 

You want to know when I first contemplated my own mortality?  The first time we drew straws to be Bob's catcher.  Yeah, we drew straws to be Bob's catcher.  If my personality seems a bit off-kilter, know that I played kiddie Russian Roulette during the summers of my childhood. 

And do you know what it is like trying to learn how to hit a baseball, when you can't even see the pitch?  To this day, I can' hit a softball.  I am still trying to work out the funk Bob put into my swing.  For me, the pitcher winds up and then the catcher cries.  There is no crying in baseball?  You didn't grow up playing with Bob.

As an adult, I can appreciate what a great human being Bob Feller was.  Please, don't take this as a slam on Bob Feller.  I'll never be half the human Bob Feller was.  But he terrorize my childhood.  Doctors say that I may never regain full feeling in my left hand. 

You wanted to know about me.  Well, here I am.  Me and my weak handshake.  I am the great and powerful ttfc. 

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