Indians Baseball Song

by Sammy Watkins

So let's go, go, go to the Indians ballgame
And we'll root, cheer, try, try to win every game
Take your beau, your gal, your Suzy and Sal to the ballgame
You'll be king and a queen for a day when the Indians play

Take a walk, take a bus, take your car
It's not far from wherever you are
Hear the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd
Be an Indians fan and be proud

So let's go, go, go to the Indians ballgame
And we'll root, and we'll cheer, and we'll try, try to win every game

Fair Weather Fans

by Steve Wynn

As a kid in Arizona, we didn't have our own team
But I was drawn to the Braves of Aaron, Mathews and Spahn
When we moved to The Bay, I got McCovey, Marichal and Mays
It was heaven and then in '68, the A's came along

With Captain Sal, Reggie, Joe Rudi. and Rollie
Having two teams to love was out of sight
When Seattle became home, spent my nights in the Dome
I still think the Mariners, Giants and A's are all right

A fair weather fan is not what I am
Even though my zip code has changed
I might smile and enjoy where I'm currently employed
Your soul can't be rearranged
It's so hard to understand
It's so hard to understand a fair weather fan

I grew up outside of Minneapolis
Glued to the radio and the '70's Twins
And the sad sound of crying when they didn't
Score enough runs for a Blyleven win

Now I reside in New York City
So I got a little thing for the pinstripes
But when the Twins face the Yanks in the ALDS
You know who this small town girl likes

A fair weather fan is not what I am
Even though my zip code has changed
I might smile and enjoy where I'm currently employed
Your soul can't be rearranged
It's so hard to understand
It's so hard to understand a fair weather fan

And there's bass player Pete, always fast on his feet
No home team, then for sure
He stays fast and loose but if he had to choose
It's be the Washington Senators

I grew up in LA to the sweet sounds of Vin Scully
That's how I went to bed most every night
There ain't a prettier park than the one in Chavez Ravine
I've seen many games by the palm trees and the lights

But I sure do love Manhattan
I took on the AL team after '93
But now that Torre and Mattingly have moved to LA
It makes it so much easier for me

'Cause a fair weather fan is not what I am
Even though my zip code has changed
I might smile and enjoy where I'm currently employed
Your soul can't be rearranged
Oh, it's hard to understand
It's so hard to understand

A fair weather, a fair weather
A fair weather fan
A fair weather fan
A fair weather fan
A fair weather fan

Here Lies Carl Mays

by Steve Wynn

It's so peaceful here
In the Riverview graveyard
And sometimes it felt that way
Out in the green ballfield
But life can take a turn
Right before your eyes
And you know
You'll never be the same again

Chappie was a favorite son
Called a prince by everyone
But he couldn't hit me a lick
And he'd tell you so
When he squared to bunt again
I submarined it up and in
He was leaning out over the plate
And he just froze

I wasn't trying to hurt anyone
But now it's all so said and done
And I wish that killer pitch never left my hand

It was never far from my mind
But the next year I went 27-9
Hit .343
And we won the Yanks' first flag
Still people didn't like me
Accused me of being on the take in the Series
I pitched three complete games
With an ERA of 1.73

In '28 Ray's wife died
Suspected it was suicide
And the daughter he never saw
Passed in '29
And the very ball I threw that day
Thirty years later it was put into play
Took a bad hop
And smashed some kid in the eye

Tony (Boston's Chosen Son)

by Steve Wynn

Set against the fading Fenway sun
Years since the last pennant had been won
Long since the Bambino had been bought
Boston found the hero it had sought

Tony, our hearts beat as one
Tony, you're Boston's chosen son
In August he was only 22
And there was nothing that he couldn't do

That bastard Hamilton threw at his head
Tony dropped, the crowd feared he was dead
Tony, our hearts bleed as one
Tony, what has that pitcher done?

But miracle of miracles on Lansdowne Street
A comeback and a home run swing returning, oh so sweet!
But it was never meant to be
Tony cried 'I cannot see!'
His eyes, they fade; the fans, they cried
And at 45 Tony died

Tony, our hearts they still ring true
Tony, we still remember you
Tony, our hearts they beat as one
Tony, you're Boston's chosen son

Centerfield

by John Fogerty

Beat the drum and hold the phone
The sun came out today
We're born again, there's new grass on the field
Roundin' third and headed for home
It's a brown-eyed handsome man
Anyone can understand the way I feel

Put me in coach
I'm ready to play today
Look at me, I can be centerfield

I spent some time in the Mudville Nine
Watching it from the bench
I took some lumps when the Mighty Case struck out
So say hey, Willie, tell the Cobb
And Joe DiMaggio
Don't say it ain't so: you know the time is now

Put me in coach
I'm ready to play today
Look at me, I can be centerfield

Got a beat-up glove, a home-made bat
And a brand new pair of shoes
I think it's time to give this game a ride
Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all
A moment in the sun
It's gone and you can tell that one good-bye

Indian Fever

Anonymous

Indian Fever
It's catching fire with everyone
Indian Fever
You can be part of the fun
You're the winner at every game
That's where the excitement begins
So catch Indian Fever
Be a believer with the Cleveland Indians

Indian Fever
It starts with the very first inning
Indian Fever
Each game is a brand new beginning
It's the hits, the homers, the double plays
It's how you feel when we win
So catch Indian Fever
Be a believer with the Cleveland Indians

All Future and No Past

by Steve Wynn

Spring is here, and the time is right
For unrealistic goals
Last summer some hit the bottom rung
But the new year brings high hopes

The Padres may be surprising
A Red Machine could rise again
If the Pirates are pulverizing
I want to write that storybook end

Before a game is played
Before an out is made
Before the first crack of the bat
That's when it's all future and no past

The slinging A's will be overachieving
KC could be a royal pain
The O's recent woes so deceiving
The Tribe could end up drenched in champagne

Every April brings a new slate
So under the circumstance
Let's remember the Rays of 2008
At this point everybody has a chance

Opening day
It's all future and no past