David Briggs: Did the Indians really almost become the Walleye?
Jul. 27—First off, speaking of guardians, give it up for the real winners of the Cleveland Indians' name change.
And that's the Toledo Walleye, who defended what is theirs in remaining the only professional team in Ohio christened after our favorite fish.
Per a report by The Athletic, the Indians "strongly considered" a handful of appellations, including the Spiders, Buckeyes, and, yes, the Walleye, a sneaky popular choice among Cleveland fans. They went with the Guardians, rumoredly out of fear of a maritime battle with Toledo. (And possible trademark issues. We're waiting on word from Mud Hens and Walleye executives as to whether the Indians reached out.)
In any case, the Tribe was not going to become the School.
As the Mayor Wade Kapszukiewicz cheekily declared last summer: "Toledo doesn't have a navy, but if it did, I would order it into battle against the name-snatchers to the East and wage the Second Battle of Lake Erie. And to paraphrase the hero of the original battle, Oliver Hazard Perry, 'We will not give up the Walleye!'"
Hooyah!
As for the switch to the Guardians, listen, I'm done biting my lip. I'm so $#%&@%& ... indifferent.
In fact, I have to say, the new name is sorta — [ducks for cover] — growing on me.
Is it what I would have picked? Probably not. I preferred the Spiders or a Lake Erie theme. Say, the Commodores, or Shoremen, or — in honor of the Indians' 17 losses in their last 25 games — the Shipwrecks.
But jokes aside — and we all have them — here's a better question: Is there any name the Indians could have chosen that wouldn't have fired up the internet's faux outrage machine?
Doubtful.
The truth, of course, is most of us just don't like change, especially in sports, where our teams represent the memories of childhood and should forever exist as they did when we were 10. (Or younger. I'm only 36, but I've long been a believer that teams should be eternally required to wear the uniforms they rocked in 1980. I'm serious. How many corporate rebrands have made jerseys better? Even the Astros' rainbow uniforms were so bad they were great.)
A team name is personal. I get it, and when it comes to the Indians, I really get it. I have my old Chief Wahoo hats and shirts somewhere, too.
But if the team name had to change — the right call, for the record — the Guardians is a perfectly fine one* (*as long as they touch up the logo of a winged baseball that appears on loan from the Clip Art in Windows 1995).
It will just take some getting used to. You know, like pretty much every other team name since the end of time.
Imagine what we'd think today if a team was named the Athletics or Cubs? Or named after the color of its socks (see: the White Sox, Red Sox, and Reds)? Or named after a race of marginalized people and the logo was a caricature with a fire-engine-red face, hook nose, big teeth, and an idiotic smile (see: the Indians, who we got a little too used to)?
The internet would spontaneously combust.
At least with the Guardians, this reset achieves the three aims of a modern nickname: It isn't racist (not a bad place to start), it doesn't have the baggage of the longest championship drought in the majors (a fresh start after 73 years can't hurt), and it has a sense of place, standing as an ode to the famous "Guardians of Traffic" statues on the Hope Memorial Bridge leading into downtown.
I don't know, I kind of like it.
And, on the bright side, as one Twitter wag noted, the Indians' players — as Guardians — will be able to sign the permission slips for our next field trip.
Maybe to a Walleye game.
