Hiya, Cleveland.

Three weeks ago, the last time I occupied this space, I told you guys about The Ringer staff writer Shea Serrano, and all of the good he and his followers (affectionately known as the “FOH Army”) do on Twitter.

Shea was gracious enough to tweet the article, and shortly after, Ringer head-honcho Bill Simmons did the same—sharing it with his 6 million followers. You guys know the rest… countless people clicked to read about Shea, our server crashed and then Crain’s wrote about it. In the true spirit of the generosity he inspires, Shea (and Bill) had helped get my article in front of more eyes than I ever thought possible. I thought that was, likely, the end of it.

And then Hurricane Harvey happened.

Dumping nearly 19 trillion gallons of water on the Lone Star State, Harvey impacted millions of Texans in matter of days. Nineteen trillion gallons. It’s so big, it doesn’t even sound real. It sounds like a made-up measurement a little kid would say on his way to “infinity times a million!” doesn’t it? For perspective, 19 trillion gallons of water would cover all of Cleveland with water higher than Key Tower. It would also fill 9,000 FirstEnergy Stadiums.

One of those Texans impacted by Harvey was none other than Shea Serrano, who lives in Houston with his wife and three children. On August 23, as Harvey was moving in and gaining strength, Shea was in LA with The Ringer. He changed his flight back to Texas, landed in San Antonio instead and met up with his family, who had driven 200 miles to flee the storm. There, they’d wait out the rising water, and in the midst of the storm, Shea paused to write about the experience.

It’s a strange feeling to be so mentally connected to a place (our children were born in Houston, our home is in Houston, our friends are in Houston, Larami’s family is in Houston, our lives are in Houston) while also being totally physically disconnected from it. We have watched everything unfold as it’s happened via Facebook and Twitter and various news outlets. We have watched our friends’ homes get destroyed. We have watched our neighborhood, always a flood risk, get turned into the ugliest swamp. We have watched lives get turned upside down, and lives get lost. It’s awful and devastating, absolutely, but it also makes us ask, “Is this really real? Is this really happening?”

It wasn’t long before Shea turned to his faithful FOH, as he had so many times before, with a simple but expansive plan: Let’s raise money to help people displaced/impacted/devastated by Hurricane Harvey.

we need a corporate homie to come through and match whatever donation The FOH can put together

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 31, 2017

Shea opened up his PayPal and Venmo accounts, and the donations started pouring in. $2,000 in 10 minutes. $13,000 in 30. Shea’s followers were so ready and willing to help, they had raised more than $33,000 before anyone asked where the money was going.

this is such a funny question to get AFTER people have sent in over $33,000 hahaha https://t.co/HppeNHyXuv

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 31, 2017

For the record, Shea assured the FOH funds would benefit charity organizations in and around Houston.

at the moment it stands for Fuck Off Harvey https://t.co/VM6WjwMRVl

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 31, 2017

The FOH continued to show up—reaching a six-figure fundraising total in four-and-a-half hours—and it didn’t stop there.

this is what it looks like and sounds like lol it's been doing this for three hours pic.twitter.com/PuXv76NdKe

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) September 1, 2017

By the time Shea stopped accepting donations the next morning, the FOH had raised $134,000 to help those people whose lives had been dismantled by Hurricane Harvey.

if you know of good charities in any of the cities Harvey crushed pls send them my way we have $134,000 to give out (lol this shit is crazy)

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) September 1, 2017

I reached out to Shea to ask him how it felt.

“I feel overwhelmingly proud,” he told me via email. “It was a remarkable showing of trust and compassion, really.”

You’re the driving force behind an incredibly powerful movement for good, I told him. How does that feel?

“I would never describe myself as such. I’m just a boy… standing in front of a group of strangers on the internet… asking them to love him.”

I think it’s safe to say the internet does, in fact, love him. Beyond his followers and the FOH and the countless articles being written to share the news of nice people doing nice things for people who deserve it, there’s a guy who uses his notoriety for good. You’ll notice Shea never makes the biggest donation in the batch—but that’s not what it’s about. It’s about bringing people together who want to help, and about being the kind of guy those people trust, simply because they know they can.

What’s next for the FOH? I was curious, too, so I asked Shea. His response was… perfectly on brand.

“Petty shit, I’m sure,” he said. “We have to balance out the scales. We’ve been doing too much good shit lately.”

Don’t let the sweltering heat fool you… It’s fall. While the leaves are gradually beginning to change and pumpkin spice is slowing creeping into everything everywhere, nightfall is inching closer and closer into our evenings.

And, despite it currently feeling like two-a-day weather out there, college football is already sauntering into its fourth week.

To me, one of the best things about college football are the traditions surrounding each team. I’m not talking about history necessarily; I mean the things, acts, songs and mascots each school and its fan base passionately uphold week after week, year after year. Some are born from the obligatory nature of upholding history—“This is how we’ve always done it.” Others are born from sheer superstition. Some, possibly, are simply a bi-product of a big crowd assembling together with a little beer and a lot of energy to burn. Regardless, it’s more than football—it’s religion; a part of daily life for many fans for at least for 15 weeks every fall.

The constant and obnoxious ringing of thousands of cowbells. A marching band spelling out its home state. A “midnight yell” and a “Woo Pig Sooie!” and a banana slug as a school’s mascot. The weirder the tradition is, the more charmingly wonderful it is to me, and each tradition is as varied as the schools it represents.

Fans will always defend their school’s football traditions as the best in college football, but they’d be wrong. No matter the legacies or unique way a tradition began, no school’s tradition is better than the one the University of Iowa just began.

It wasn’t my choice to watch Penn State take on Iowa on Saturday night. My dad had commandeered the remote and, having previously forced him to watch a sappy movie on the Hallmark Channel, I had no choice but to compromise.

Somewhere during Saquon Barkley’s unbelievable performance and a final few seconds that left me, with no dog in the fight, completely breathless, something special happened at Kinnick Stadium.

As the first quarter of the game, one that was quite unspectacular compared to what was to come, came to a close, the fans inside Kinnick did something I’d never seen. They stopped what they were doing to stand up and fall silent. Facing (many turning to do so) the east side of the stadium, 65,000 fans waved in unison at an egg-shaped building that overlooks the field. Fans break into laughter and cheers, grins spreading across faces so quickly, it’s like they can’t help but not. On the 12th floor of that egg-shaped building, a smattering of children, some in wheelchairs, some with little noses pressed up against thick glass, beamed. For those Iowa fans aren’t just waving to a building, they’re waving to the children inside.

Image via University of Iowa

Iowa Stead Family Children’s Hospital isn’t just next door to Kinnick Stadium, it’s so close it looks like it’s sprouting from the arena’s side. Bleacher Report’s Adam Kramer described the hospital as feeling “Like an extension of Kinnick—like some sort of high-tech treehouse of the future sitting over its shoulder.”

On Stead’s 12th floor, with glass walls and breathtaking views, sits a room that has been dubbed the Press Box. It’s where children who are sick and brave and healing and fighting come with their families to enjoy game-day snacks, play foosball and cheer for their Hawkeyes.

The idea for Iowa fans to wave to the children inside began on social media. While children she looks after napped, lifelong fan Krista Young posted it in earnest to a Facebook page called “Hawkeye Heaven” in May.

“It was two sentences. It was just a thought,” Young told Land of 10. “I kept seeing pictures of those kids [at the hospital] before football season. And practice started and seeing them looking down on the field, it’s heartbreaking. Just a quick thought, two seconds to type and it turned into this amazing, amazing blowout. There’s not a fancy story behind it. Just short and sweet, and it took off.”

Young’s idea gained traction on Facebook, spreading like wildfire across Hawkeye nation through comments, likes and shares until the hospital took notice. Before Iowa’s first home game against Wyoming in the beginning of September, a plan for “The Wave” was in place.

And now, as the first quarter of every Hawkeye home game comes to a close, the 65,000 fans inside Kinnick stadium pause for a moment to wave to the mighty and small residents of Stead Children’s Hospital. A sea of black and gold, offering a simple gesture that means so much more.

For many of us, college football Saturday means wings and beer and occasionally yelling at the TV. It means giggling at Gameday signs and painting your face and high-fiving the guy next to you. It’s heartbreaking when your team loses, but it’s nothing like the heartbreak these kids—and their families—endure daily. It’s a break from the struggles. It’s a moment for these kids to shine, suspended in time, where all is right.

Iowa’s “The Wave” isn’t just college football’s newest tradition, it’s also its greatest. Have a great Thursday, you guys.

It’s been quite a week, hasn’t it, Cleveland?

In the span of just eight days, all three of our major sports teams have played. One went well. Two did not, though one of those loses was, at this point, kind of expected. But with all this action comes plenty of emotion, and I’m feeling a lot of feelings about  the world of Cleveland sports. Let’s crack open the red wine and unpack these emotions together, shall we?

The Browns are (Unintentionally) Tanking
Feel-o-Meter: DGAF

At a certain point last season, I stopped caring about the Browns. Wait—that’s too bold a statement. At a certain point last season, my heart was no longer “behind” the Browns. Sure, I still want them to do well. Yes, I have gone to games and cheered them on (though was not given many opportunities to do so). And OK, I’ll still watch that pack of losers on a lazy Sunday if the opportunity presents itself, but I’m certainly not seeking them out. It dawned on me sometime during the 2016 season that it’s not just hard to feel an emotional pull to a team that, week in and week out, lets us all down… it eventually becomes impossible.

When I reached my Browns-induced breaking point, I realized something very important: No longer feeling emotionally attached to the winless Browns is incredibly liberating, and I recommend you try it soon. Continue to support them if you’d like, but just stop caring about the outcome. It’s a lovely mind frame to be in.

Kyrie is a Celtic For Real
Feel-o-Meter: Smad

Once upon a time, I tried to rationalize Kyrie’s desire to leave Cleveland. I understood only that I didn’t understand—and that was enough for me. I hated that he wanted to leave, but more than anything, I was sad to see him go.

And then he ran his mouth. He gushed about how great it felt to be in a “real sports city” and, instead of accepting his new home in Boston with grace and class, Kyrie kicked Cleveland square in the bathing-suit area. How quickly my sadness turned to anger.

And then Tuesday night happened, and I was both. Watching the NBA’s opening night from the comfort of my couch, it was sad and strange and disorienting to see Kyrie in Boston’s green and white. So much so, TNT accidentally gave his first two points of the game to the Cavs—an error that was quickly corrected. I felt those familiar pangs of anger, too, as Kyrie sank jumper threes and glided effortlessly up and down the court with a familiar smirk that suddenly felt smug. Did I “boo” along with the crowd at The Q? I can neither confirm nor deny.

After Kyrie missed a three at the buzzer that would have sent the game into overtime, LeBron James wrapped him up in a bear hug. Ugh, my heart… there’s that sadness again. That sadness amplified immensely as I watched Kyrie go, former teammate by former teammate, through a line of Cavs, doing all the old handshakes that were routine less than three months ago. But nostalgia doesn’t completely wash away the mad, and I find myself left somewhere in the middle—a feeling I’m sure I’ll grow accustomed to this season.

RJ’s Out
Feel-o-Meter: Crying All the Tears

Oh, RJ. Ours is a complicated relationship. I adore you, listen to (and promote) your podcast and have cheered for you just as much as any Cavs fan could.

And you… are still blocking me on Snapchat.

Putting our differences aside, I’m so bummed to see Richard Jefferson go. He was valuable on the court and an even more so one off of it, and I’m worried about the Cavs locker room without him in it. RJ is the kind of player who lifts up everyone around him—teammates, coaches, even the fans—and I fear this season just won’t feel the same without that palpable chemistry.

RJ, I heard a rumor you may be interested in returning to/staying in Cleveland as a coach (have you even left yet?), and that makes my heart so happy. If things don’t work out with the Nuggets and the Bucks, please oh please stay. And if things do work out and you land somewhere other than The Land, I’ll be in the corner, weeping.

The Tribe Imploded
Feel-o-Meter: Numb

How do you mourn a postseason that never really was? I’m still struggling to find the answer.

It’s hard for me to believe a week from last night, I was excitedly shuffling into the Jake with 35,000 of my closest friends, ready to cheer our boys into the ALCS. 2017 had been such a magical season for the Cleveland Indians, I felt so sure that magic would carry us right back to the World Series—and I know I wasn’t alone in that belief.

That feeling of assurance proved to be fleeting, though, after a single shot from Yankees shortstop Didi Gregorious sucked the air out of the stadium, and the energy out of the crowd, in the top of the first. From that moment, the rest of the game just felt… out of reach. Like we were out of it before we ever stepped up to the plate.

I honestly never expected the Indians to fall to New York. I felt like getting to the World Series was given, and I completely overlooked that first round of the MLB postseason. And then, unthinkably, we lost… and I didn’t know how to feel.

It’s been a week, and I still don’t know. I’m disappointed and frustrated, but mostly I’m just numb. I’m certainly not over it, and I don’t think I will be anytime soon. Hell, I’m still processing the 2016 World Series, so this season’s abrupt and unexpected ending does not bode well for me.

In the meantime, Cleveland, we have the Cavaliers to cheer for (and the Browns, too, if you’re still into that sort of thing). And we have the days to count down until pitchers and catchers report. Here’s hoping it goes quickly, and that we all feel OK soon.

My friends, winter is coming.

Autumn’s leaves are almost gone and the pumpkins on your front porch are probably starting to get mushy. Temperatures are dropping and, thanks to the end of Daylight Savings Time, it’s basically pitch black outside by 5:15 p.m. Before we know it, we’ll be knee-deep in ice and snow, reminiscing about the long-gone days of summer. (Gross.)

While most people fill their summer days with loads of activities, from trips to the beach and ballpark to hikes through National parks and outlet malls, I’m here with an entirely different idea for winter. You’ve heard of a summer “Bucket List,” a list of things you’d like to do, see and experience before the season ends, but let’s talk about a Hibernation List for winter.

It’s a simple concept, really. Instead of a list of excursions to complete while the weather outside is glorious, a Hibernation List is made up of all the TV shows, movies and books you plan to binge on while hiding from the frigid, blustery hell that is winter.

You know all those shows you’ve been promising yourself you’d watch someday? THIS IS THAT DAY, only spread out over the months of December, January and February (and honestly, probably March and some of April). It’s a time for sweatpants and snacks. Blankets and beers. Potatoes of both the couch and chip variety. It’s the season of peak laziness, and I’m here to help you make the most of your downtime.

To get started, just take out a pen and paper and write down the shows you’re really, truly dying to watch. A pro tip from yours truly: Keep that pen and paper handy, as more things will come to mind and your Hibernation List will quickly spiral out of control. That’s OK—we’ve got awhile. Once your list starts taking shape, you really only need to decide what you want to watch first—and set your sights on checking that one off the list.

The most important step, of course: Carving out the time to binge. It may feel crazy now, but soon enough winter’s cold and snow will make the idea of staying in all weekend (and every weeknight) sound positively perfect.

A few simple Hibernation List guidelines for my fellow lazybones:

• Always make sure you have plenty of your favorite snacks on hand. This tip is first and foremost for a reason.
• Same goes for your favorite drinks. Stock up on tasty beverages, both alcoholic and not.
• Feel free to share list suggestions with other Hibernators. We’re all in this together! Let’s make it a community and a conversation.
• Work at your own pace. And by “work,” I, of course, mean “watch” or “read” or “nap.” Winter is a long season, so take your time.
• It’s OK to amend your list. Start something and don’t love it? Cross it off completely and move on.
• Don’t plan too far ahead. What you’re watching now may impact what you feel like watching next, so choose as you go.
• Take a break from binging, when necessary. Rest your eyes, stretch your legs, pet a dog. Just try to avoid going outside as much as possible.

And while we’re at it, there’s only one rule: No judging the contents of another Hibernator’s list. It doesn’t matter how old or popular a show or movie is. If you haven’t seen it, it’s new to you and totally allowed to be on your Hibernation List.

In case you were wondering, here’s what’s on my Hibernation List so far:

• The last two episodes of Ozark
• Master of None, Season 2
• Stranger Things, Season 2
• Mindhunter
• Scandal
• Friday Night Lights
• The last couple seasons of The Mindy Project
• Any one of the 17 books around my apartment that I’ve purchased over the last year but haven’t read

While it’s not quite winter yet, I did hear there’s Lake-effect snow in the forecast for tonight (!!!!). So this weekend, I say… screw going places. Put on your favorite sweats, pour some red wine, fire up Netflix and get to checking things off your Hibernation List.

It’s never too early to get started.

It seems to happen every time there’s a big concert in town, or every year as the Indians’ Opening Day is approaching. With fevered brows and fast-moving fingers, we sit behind monitors or clutching smartphones, trying to get our hands on coveted tickets the very minute they are released to the public.

During these times, we fans are often frantic and frustrated. Wrestling with WiFi, clicking and cursing as we sit in digital “waiting rooms,” watching in horror as our requests get timed out. Often, no matter how much you spent last year or how long you’ve been a fan or how badly you’re dying to go, you get shut out of admission. Sometimes, it seems, as soon as the tickets have hit the market, they’re gone. Snapped up by bots and scammers and people who use specialized software to buy entire rows of seats, just to turn around and sell them for an insane markup.

But with her upcoming Reputation stadium tour, pop star Taylor Swift is trying to change that.

In August, as Taylor released her love-it-or-hate-it single, Look What You Made Me Do, fans were invited to register for “Taylor Swift Tix,” an online portal powered by a service called Ticketmaster Verified Fan. Being the dedicated Swiftie I am, I registered first and explored later.

Engineered to keep out the scammers and the bots, the premise of the portal was simple—and brilliant. Fans could register once per email address and phone number, specifying which show they wanted to attend and how many tickets they wanted (up to six). After registering, they were placed in a digital presale “line” for tickets, along with other fans who wanted tickets for the same show.

The catch? You could complete simple tasks online to boost your spot in line. The better catch? You could come back daily to complete those tasks again and again—potentially boosting your spot every day. Depending on their complexity and reach, boosts were weighted by how much they impacted your place in line, and how many times you could complete them each day.

Once in line, you could receive boost points for activities like buying merchandise from Taylor’s online store, following her pages on social media, posting about her on your own social channels, and watching a slew of videos. The videos, which ranged from the official LWYMMD music video to an AT&T commercial featuring Taylor and a behind-the-scenes making of that AT&T commercial, could be watched up to 10 times every 24 hours.

Even the CD I purchased at Target earned me a boost in line—it came with a unique code inside that I entered online after I opened it.

The portal remained open until November 28, giving fans around three months to watch, buy, share and earn boosts—which we did. A lot. When it closed, your spot in the line was cemented, with the presale scheduled for the following Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, December 5—7.

That Saturday, December 2, each fan received an email with a one-hour window during the three-day presale. During the time specified, you’d receive a unique, six-digit code via that you would then use to sign in and access the ticket sale.

Taylor was… not messing around with this, you guys.

The more boosts you had earned in line, the earlier your one-hour window in the presale was.

Weeks of painstakingly refreshing the same music video had paid off. Though it was late in the day, I had access on Tuesday, the first day of the presale.

That night, my code arrived via text at about 6:55 p.m., and I had absolutely no trouble logging in, choosing my tickets and checking out at approximately 7:02.

While it wasn’t perfect, I loved the approach Taylor took to ensuring her tickets ended up in the hands of fans. The Verified Fan portal made me feel like, to a point, I controlled my own ticket destiny. If I wanted to refresh the same AT&T commercial 10 times a day to hopefully land a better spot in line, I could. Or, if I had decided that I didn’t want to bother, I could have registered and walked away, knowing I’d get access later in the presale. The choice was mine—and it was nice to feel that way.

Next July, Taylor will be at FirstEnergy Stadium and I—along with four of my closest friends—will be there, too. We’ll be in amazing seats that were fairly priced and purchased pretty easily—no stress, no angst, no feeling like I paid a third party an arm and a leg to get them. (Are you listening, Indians? Because you probably should be.)

The third and final day of the Verified Fan presale is today. Good luck to the Swifties out there who are still working on getting their tickets.

It was early evening in mid-November when I saw the tweet.

Cards Against Humanity, the vulgar and raunchy and hilarious and loveable and cringe-inducing card game had announced on Twitter that it was giving its fans and followers the opportunity to help it “save America.” The tweet drove to a website that offered a little more—though not much—information on the initiative.

The premise was vague but simple: send Cards Against Humanity $15, and they’d send you six “America-saving” surprises throughout the month of December.

Why were they doing this? Because, according to the folks at Cards Against Humanity, the “government is being run by a toilet.”

The catch? Only the first 150,000 people to fork over the $15 would be allowed to participate. The site, particularly the FAQ section, made me laugh out loud more times than an episode of Parks and Rec. I was curious and not in complete disagreement with Cards Against Humanity’s displeasure with our country’s current administration. I was in.

The checkout process included a random but detailed survey, asking typical thing like level of education and yearly income, and plenty of not-so typical things, like… this.

A real-time tracker logged how many of the 150,000 spots remained. By the time I signed up around 9 p.m., just under 30,000 were left. The next morning, they were gone.

Day 1

The first surprise, mailed inside a red, white and blue, star-spangled envelope, arrived on the final day of November.

Inside, a letter from Cards Against Humanity explained that it had used a portion of the $2.25 million dollars it raised to purchase a plot of vacant land along the U.S.-Mexico border—and retained a law firm specializing in eminent domain to make it as time-consuming and expensive as possible for President Trump to build a wall between the nations. Each person who participated, the mailing explained, helped Cards Against Humanity purchase 0.000667 percent of the parcel of land.

Also included in the mailing was an illustrated map of the land, a certificate of their promise to fight the wall, a statement from the lawyers retained, and six bonus Cards Against Humanity cards (to be added to a full game deck) with content themed around the surprise.

Day 2

Arriving about a week later, the Day 2 envelope was branded the same, though much slimmer. It included a letter that explained in order to combat the barrage of stress-inducing bad news most Americans hear every day, Cards Against Humanity was launching The Good News Podcast. Thanks to participants’ support, the daily podcast would be funded for a full year, ad-free.

Also included in the mailing were additional Cards Against Humanity cards, and a variety of laptop stickers featuring fun facts and “good news,” including one that simply says, “ There’s Always Dogs.” (And they’re right.)

Day 3

The third surprise was, for me, the most unexpected. From Cards Against Humanity’s Day 3 letter:

“In order to deliver on our promise to save America, we knew we needed to tackle our country’s biggest issue: wealth inequality. The richest 0.1% of Americans have as much wealth as the bottom 90%.

Using the survey you filled out when you signed up, we identified the 100 poorest recipients and sent them each a check for $1,000. The next 10,000 poorest recipients got a $15 refund check.

You got nothing. And if you don’t like it, tough titties.”

I wasn’t mad about it, and you can read stories about how the money impacted recipients lives here.

Day 4

The fourth Cards Against Humanity surprise tackled the subject of homework head-on. One of the more profanity-laden letters of the six I’d receive explained that homework “Alienates students from their families and communities and stifles creativity from a young age.”

To “destroy homework once and for all,” Cards Against Humanity partnered with DonorsChoose.org to support teachers who are creating engaging alternatives to traditional homework, including things like field trips to museums, making slime, reading with families, and playing board games.

Cards Against Humanity would match any donation to support these teachers up to $100,000.

Also included in the mailing were several thank-you notes from children, including a drawing of Malala that was so good I started crying.

Day 5

In its fifth surprise, Cards Against Humanity announced that it was launching a public opinion poll called Pulse of the Nation. Each month of 2018, the letter explained, they’ll ask Americans a variety of interesting and important questions, analyze and publish the results—using funding raised through the initiative.

Enclosed with the letter was a mini magazine of the first two months’ of results (they started polling early), asking tough questions like “Do you support White Nationalism?” and “Do you think it’s OK to pee in the shower?”

The letter promised that Cards Against Humanity would continue publishing results every month online, and closed with the sentence, “Nate Silver, retire bitch.”

Day 6

Moving in a completely different direction, with its sixth surprise Cards Against Humanity set out to save baseball, because “let’s face it: baseball is boring,” which were their words, not mine.

The final letter, arriving just before New Year’s Eve, explained that Cards Against Humanity had purchased the naming rights to a minor-league baseball stadium in Joliet, Illinois. The home of the “loveable underdog” Joliet Slammers would henceforth be knows as The Cards Against Humanity Baseball Place.

Including in the envelope was one ticket to any Slammers game this spring, a poster of the stadium, and a pack of custom baseball cards featuring Slammers players. The cards, of course, featured stats like “Nipple Diameter” and “Number of Teeth,” because why not?

**

In the end, I found Cards Against Humanity Saves America to be fun and full of surprises. Besides Day 1, the initiative was not nearly as politically themed as I had originally expected, and it ended up being an easy way for me to contribute to a few charitable movements, fund a few worthwhile programs, and laugh a lot along the way. It was the perfect way to close out a turbulent year.

Happy Thursday, you guys. Get out there and save America.

Breaking news, you guys. The longest month in the history of the universe is finally over. It’s February!

OK, so technically the shift from January to February doesn’t mean much in Northeast Ohio. Yes, it’s still freezing and gross out. Yes, the wind coming off Lake Erie will still make your face hurt. And yes, it still gets dark at like 5:30 pm. But hey, we’re one month closer to spring, baseball and sunshine—so who can complain?

Though I have my regular rotation of podcasts (ours, of course, as well as Road Trippin’, My Favorite Murder and Pod Save America), it’s been a long time since I’ve been really crazy-into a series. In fact, not since S-Town and my much-loved Season 1 of Serial have I been so wrapped up in a storytelling podcast that I couldn’t put it down, so to speak.

And then, a few weeks ago, a friend pointed me toward Dirty John.

Image via LA Times

Written and produced by Christopher Goffard for the LA Times, Dirty John follows the tale of 59-year-old Debra Newell, a mother of four and successful small business owner from Newport Beach, California. In the fall of 2014, Debra met a man on an over-50 dating site. The two quickly fell in love and got married within two months of meeting.

The man, Debra’s fifth husband, was John Meehan. Handsome and charming, John was an Iraq war veteran and successful anesthesiologist. He was perfect… until things started to unravel.

I won’t say much more, because I don’t want to take away from anyone’s experience of listening to it, but I’ll say this: the entirety of the pod is only six episodes (plus a bonus, “live” recording released a few months later) that aren’t terribly long. I drive about 40 minutes each way on my daily commute, and I finished Dirty John in three and a half days. You can fly through it—and you’ll want to.

Beyond the mystery and intrigue of the story (as well as the numerous “gasp-out-loud-in-traffic” revelations it uncovers), I found the way the Times published the podcast and corresponding story was completely fascinating. As a podcast episode was released (one every two days in October of 2017), a corresponding chunk of article was added to a long-form written piece published online. And as far as I can tell, the podcast and article match each other almost perfectly.

What’s amazing is that the article doesn’t read like a transcribed podcast, and the podcast doesn’t sound like someone reading an article. It’s so well done that it translates, seamlessly, across platforms. Dirty John is not only a great story—it’s storytelling at its finest.

If you choose to listen to the podcast, you hear sound clips from Debra and her family members, and live recordings taken from answering machines and California courtrooms. If you choose to read the article instead, you see photos of the couple—and their family members—throughout their lives and love affair. Where the podcast offers up sound effects to set scenes, like the background din of a bustling restaurant and a breeze coming off the ocean, the article serves everything from mug shots to wedding videos.

You, as a member of the audience, can decide exactly how you want to take in the story of Dirty John. And I recommend you do, as soon as you can.

************

A while back, I told you guys how I had unexpectedly become a huge fan of the WWE. Over the last year or so, the franchises two weekly live broadcasts have become regulars on my DVR, and my boyfriend and I sit down every week to take them in.

On Sunday evening, WWE hosted one of its hallmark pay-per-view events, the Royal Rumble. For those who don’t follow WWE, a Royal Rumble match begins with two competitors in the ring. Every two minutes, a new, randomly drawn competitor enters. Eventually, the ring is full of wrestlers and pandemonium. The only way to be eliminated from the match is to go over the top rope, and have both feet hit the floor.

This year, the WWE made history by also including the first-ever women’s Royal Rumble match. And, more surprisingly, the women’s match was the last of the evening—making it the “main event,” so to speak.

Twenty-nine competitors came and went over the course of the hour-long Rumble, including several former stars who returned to the ring for one last shot. When the dust settled, 36-year-old Asuka had won it all. She was joined shortly after in the ring by the two current women’s champions, as she’ll next have a chance to fight one of them for a belt at Wrestlemania in April. And then, there was an unexpected blast of music, and a large graphic on the main boards said it all.

Image via WWE

After a few confusing seconds in which nothing happened, mixed martial artist Ronda Rousey emerged from backstage. Over the sounds of Joan Jett’s “Bad Reputation” and tens of thousands of fans losing their minds, Rousey slowly made her way to the ring.

Once there, she awkwardly stared at the three wrestlers, not speaking, and then pointed to an oversized Wrestlemania logo hanging from the ceiling of the Wells Fargo Center. She eventually outstretched a hand to Asuka, which was promptly slapped away. Rousey made her way down to ringside to shake hands with a grinning Stephanie McMahon, the commissioner of Monday Night Raw, and then retreated backstage, not before stopping a few more times to silently point at the Wrestlemania sign again.

The whole thing was… weird. And ill-timed. And unnecessary. The women of WWE had just completed a historic match. It should have been something to celebrate, and Asuka should have had a chance to bask in it all. We should have been talking about what it meant for women in sports entertainment—and what it means for the woman who won—for awhile.

Instead, what should have been a huge moment gave way to a woman who didn’t even take part in it. Up until that very moment, Rousey had little more to do with the franchise than the occasional rumor she’d be joining it.

As a fan, the whole thing was disappointing. WWE’s Nia Jax, who competed in the Rumble,  seemed to agree.

Cool she’s here….I guess 30 women making history can just be forgotten https://t.co/fHqMezduEH

— Nia Jax (@NiaJaxWWE) January 30, 2018

I’m interested to see how and where within the WWE Rousey lands, but I’m not considering myself a fan just yet. Happy Thursday, you guys. Make it a great one.

Welcome to #TeamThursday’s Waiting For Next Year 10-Year Celebration Extravaganza edition of “While We’re Waiting…”

We don’t know how observant or fastidious readers are at monitoring the daily machinations at the workplaces of the media outlets they consume. But if readers had been playing close attention, they would notice that over the past year or so the Thursday weekly edition of “While We’re Waiting…” has become blogging by platoon, with Jessica Forrester, Jacob Rosen, and Kyle Welch each taking a spot in the #TeamThursday slot. Think of “While We’re Waiting…” as a baseball rotation, with the Thursday spot taken by WFNY’s three least reliable writers. If Scott Sargent is the Corey Kluber in the WWW rotation, then Kyle is Ryan Merritt.

#TeamThursday grew to exist as Jessica, Jacob, and Kyle became too constrained with their own lives or too creatively barren to sustain an individual weekly chapter of “While We’re Waiting…” Each of us may divulge more of the details on our respective constrained/barrenness below, but they’re largely a combination of job demands, overactive social calendars (traveling, woo!), and other pursuits both welcome (surfing, yay!) and unwelcome (paying rent, boo!). But doing #TeamThursday has remained rewarding and fun and forgiving enough us for all to continue to participate, which we do in no small part because of the community WFNY has — both publicly and privately. The private WFNY community has the #TeamThursday channel on the productivity/messaging app Slack, much of which has become a repository of videos and pictures of … corgis, the Welsh herding dog with the tiny legs. #TeamThursday Slack features other adorable animals or cartoons as well — but it’s mostly corgis.

Why corgis? Well for one, they’re adorable. It’s scientifically impossible to look at a high-quality corgi gif, pic, or vid without your day improving 2-to-42 percent — depending on how lousy it was to start. From Wikipedia: “The term ‘corgi’ means either cur dog or dwarf dog (cor = dwarf, gi = lenitive of ci, dog) in the Welsh language, which was not intended as an insult to the dog’s size, rather as a purely descriptive term.1 There is also a folk legend that says corgis were a gift from the woodland fairies, and that the breed’s markings were left on its coat by fairy harnesses and saddles.” Fairy jockeys riding around on cutely misshapen dogs with spots and tiny legs?!? Excuse us — our hearts just exploded.

Plus, corgis are hilarious. Corgis look like aspiring big dogs that simply never hit puberty: the tiny lovable kid on the basketball team who doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell at starting varsity — but boy does he try hard and isn’t he cute though? They have an air of dignity about them — perhaps due to their historical connection with the English throne — but are simultaneously too ridiculous looking to be taken seriously. They say, “I’m majestic but I also have a hell of a time with stairs.” Corgis also look like zoomorphized Hostess pastries — like Twinkies that sprouted heads and tails and started walking around and chewing on our socks. Corgis transcend class. They’re both aristocratic and workmanlike — royalty and comic relief. Common. Plebeian. Noble. Fluffy. It’s wins all-around, and because sometimes (even at WFNY) Cleveland sports and life can sometimes be too bleak to bear, #TeamThursday wants to share some of that joy with the readers while discussing WFNY’s 10th Anniversary and what it means to us individually. Here are our #CelebrationCorgis.

Jessica

After being a fan and reader for what felt like forever, I joined Waiting for Next Year in June of 2015 (holy cow… almost three years ago?). I wrote only headlines for the first few months, eventually working up the nerve to ask Scott if I could write a feature. I wanted to write a very personal piece that equated being a Cleveland sports fan with dating in your 30s—two things I knew a great deal about. He laughed out loud when I told him the subject, and gave me the green light to go ahead.

I remember being floored the day my post when live. So many people were more than supportive—they were enthusiastic about it. They shared it on social. They called to let me know how much they loved it, and then they texted to let me know that their mom’s cousin’s dog walker loved it, too. It blew my mind that people near and far cared enough to read something that, up until then, existed only in my head. It’s by far by favorite WFNY memory and I’ll never forget it.

Eventually a spot opened up on the “While We’re Waiting” schedule, and one of the guys (maybe JP?) suggested I take a part of it. Jacob, Kyle and I figured out a schedule rotation that seemed to work for everyone, and #TeamThursday was born.

These days, our #TeamThursday Slack channel is 85% corgi-related content, and we’ve amassed a five-page Google doc that is nothing but links, comics and photos of our favorite little doggos. In fact, beyond scheduling upcoming posts and swapping spots, we really don’t talk about anything else. We communicate daily, but I have no idea what’s really going on with Jacob or Kyle, beyond the corgis they meet at various happy hours or on the street. It works for us.

Beyond the endless stream of corg, I have really loved being a part of #TeamThursday because I feel like the three of us each contribute something different to the site. From our voices to the subject matter we gravitate toward, I’m so happy that, through our rotating schedule, we get to add a little variety to the While We’re Waiting space.

Congratulations to Scott, Andrew, Craig and all the guys on 10 amazing years. I’m always in awe of the passion, dedicated and talent that exists here, and I’m so grateful to be a tiny part WFNY. Thank you for encouraging me as a fan, inspiring me as a writer, and for letting “the girl” stick around this long.

Oh and… of all the corgis sent my way over the last year or so, here’s probably my favorite:

BAXTER IS SO CUTE pic.twitter.com/0IGsqE1eNM

— Oh My Corgi! (@OhMyCorgi) November 21, 2017

Kyle 

I started writing for WFNY over three years ago now, in September 2014. As time will do, my tenure contributing to WFNY seems simultaneously much longer than three-plus years, and much shorter than three-plus years. WFNY was a source of Cleveland sports news and discussion that I admired and trusted before my tour of duty began — WFNY was a part of my life before I was part of its life.

My role has also changed a lot over that brief time — first increasing in stature then diminishing. Which I appreciate to no end. There are certainly other outlets where the people managing a website would be less open to such arrangements or guilt me into being more active. But Andrew, Craig, and Scott were not only gracious enough to let me matriculate in the first place, but then to let me stay on as emeritus, to be the gray-haired professor in the tweed jacket walking around the hallways, barging into faculty meetings that have nothing to do with me, loitering around the cafeteria, having an inflated sense of contribution to the institution, and interjecting on copyright law/trashing Dan Gilbert in the Slack feed.

But my role on #TeamThursday and spot-duty has still served its purpose for me, even if I can’t say my contribution has been reciprocal. It’s still the creative outlet that I desperately needed when I emailed the editors three years ago. While Twitter feels like yelling into the gaping maw of the bottomless sinkhole that is the internet, writing blog posts for a site like Waiting for Next Year felt like writing a romantic love letter … then throwing that love letter into the bottomless sinkhole that is the internet. It still provides a pressure release valve to vent toxic waste building up in my noggin about Cleveland sports. It still keeps me connected to my hometown from which I live 2000 miles. The community still lets me interact with the readers and writers I’ve (virtually) met who make the alienation of modernity and persistent dissatisfaction a little more tolerable. Plus the corgis. Congratulations on 10 years, WFNY. Ten years on the internet is basically the equivalent of 150 years of pre-millenium print publishing — so here’s to 150 more years of waiting.

These two dogs both encapsulate my anxiety and insouciance about the future.

He’s a stubborn one

Jacob

WFNY is a special, special place for me. It’s like my massive, rambunctious online family. I joined way, way back in spring 2009, alongside Denny Mayo and Brendan Porath. We were the original weekenders back when it was a site priority to start producing content seven days a week. And boy … was there some #content on those #weekends.

I took a few hiatuses over the years from WFNY. When I became the editor-in-chief of the University of Dayton’s Flyer News newspaper in the 2011-12 school year. When I’ve travelled and travelled for study abroad programs, volunteer trips, and whenever any opportunity for a long weekend arose. But then I’ve always come back. And the #TeamThursday crew is now my regular avenue for WFNY participation.

I wrote a super emotional Facebook post upon leaving the site in spring 2011, stating: “Back in 2009 when I first joined WFNY, I still had Yahoo! e-mail, didn’t know anything about the words ‘lede’ or ‘Twitter,’ and was simply an 18-year-old kid trying desperately to latch on somewhere. … There’s no doubt in my mind that my life has drastically improved for the better.” Almost all the good things in my career, now in the sports business world exactly, can be traced back to the start of my writing at WFNY.

Back in 2009, I was a college freshman, still attending high school proms back in Akron. The rest of the WFNY writing crew was married, having babies, ya know, normal late-20s adult stuff. I was 18. The prom jokes have lasted for nine years since. I’ve often said that WFNY is the longest-lasting relationship of my life. It’s survived multiple jobs, my graduate degree, and moving to New York to work in sports business, where I now live with a former college newspaper editor colleague, Anna Beyerle. Again, it all traces back to WFNY and the growth of my writing abilities.

Besides Cleveland sports, my other main online hobbies include Taylor Swift (obviously) and dogs. Lots of dogs. Predominantly, my exact niche of dogs if #jewdles. But beyond that, I’ve got a long-time appreciation for corgis, as well. My best friend Matthew has had a corgi for about 10 years. My great uncle had a corgi when I was kid. Corgis are great, and I’ll leave you with a few of my favorites from our shared Google Doc among the #TeamThursday crew:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BW_VbxjAC2j/

DEXTER LOOKING QUITE DAPPER pic.twitter.com/KxgtlUGwBN

— Oh My Corgi! (@OhMyCorgi) January 17, 2018

1. Editor’s Note: It seems a little presumptuous on the source author to conclude that the term “dwarf dog” was not meant to be insulting at all.

For some reason, I’ve always been hot and cold with podcasts. Either I’m listening to them nonstop, or I’m not listening to them whatsoever. Occasionally something grabs my interest and I can’t get enough…until I find it easy to walk away.1

Like a lot of people, the first season of Serial is what brought me to podcasts in the first place. To say I was hooked would be an understatement—I listened to 11 episodes in a week. I just pretend the second season didn’t happen.

Since then, I’ve dabbled in a handful of podcasts off and on. Garbage Time with Katie Nolan is a sometimes-regular favorite, hosted by my favorite girl on Earth. Bachelor Party, on Bill Simmons’ Channel 33 network, is exactly what you think it is (a week-by-week recap of each episode of The Bachelor), so I can only listen to that one when the weekly “reality” show is “in season.”

It was the latest round of Bachelor Party pods that got me back into listening in general. After a few days of binging to get caught up on the dating escapades of Nick Viall, I was looking for a new podcast to enjoy. On the recommendation of a friend, an unexpected little gem called Road Trippin’ turned out to be exactly what I needed.

Featuring Cleveland Cavaliers Richard Jefferson and Channing Frye, Road Trippin’ is literally recorded while the team is on the road. Whether they’re in a swanky hotel, a visitor’s training room, or 40,000 feet in the air, the duo sits down with FOX Sports Ohio’s Allie Clifton to discuss everything from fast food and throwback music to Snapchat, SoulCycle and the Super Bowl. With various teammates guest-starring on each episode, the podcast gives an almost unreal peak behind the Cavs’ curtain—and an in-depth look into each athlete’s life, personality and sense of humor.

WFNY’s Andrew Schnitkey touched on it last week, and completely nailed it when he said Road Trippin’ is “The most unguarded, down to earth, and casual conversation I have ever heard when it comes to NBA players. It feels less like listening to a podcast and more like sitting at the table with the players as they have dinner together. It’s an invitation into their real lives in a way we so rarely get as sports fans.”

I couldn’t agree with that sentiment more. And for me, one of the most enjoyable parts of the transparency of Road Trippin’ has been getting to know so much random, and sometimes hilarious stuff, about RJ and Channing. Some of my favorite discoveries:

The History Between RJ and Channing. The chemistry between Frye and Jefferson is undeniable, and it makes even more sense when the pair discusses their history together. Turns out, when Channing visited the University of Arizona as a high school senior, RJ was his host… and took money out of Channing’s forgotten wallet.

The Invention of Frye Island. I don’t want to give away too much, because it’s funnier to let Channing explain. Just know that when he edited his own Wikipedia page at the end of last year, it was for good reason.

Channing is an Emotional Eater. When I have a bad day, I usually run straight for the tacos. Turns out Channing and I have more in common than I would have thought. Shout out to Rally’s.

Their Favorite Road Trip Snacks. As well as an affinity for Rax fries.

Their Professional Wrestling Personas. It’s a topic that comes up a lot, especially with their Cavs teammates, and it had me laughing out loud while driving up 77 North. Just know that there is at least one banana hammock involved.

RJ Likes to Work Out. Kind of a lot. While it’s not really a surprise considering he’s a professional athlete, it’s still crazy to hear what the 36-year-old Jefferson considers to be one day’s worth of exercise.

Kyrie Thinks the Earth is Flat. Maybe. To say it was widely covered would be an understatement, but on Episode 7, Cavs PG Kyrie Irving delves into his favorite conspiracy theories—including the notion that the round shape of the Earth isn’t proven. “There is no concrete information except for the information that they’re giving us,” Kyrie said on the podcast. Oh… OK.

Believe me when I say this is just a tiny sampling of what you’ll hear in the nine episodes of Road Trippin’ currently available. It’s a can’t-miss for Cleveland sports fans. Whether you listen while driving, working or working out, you’ll feel as though you are literally along for the ride with Jefferson and Frye—belly laughs, technical glitches and topic tangents included.

Go download those episodes. You won’t be disappointed.

1. Except, of course, WFNY’s podcast, as well as the Friday Fumble, which are regularly on rotation during my daily commute.

It’s a weird time in our world, Cleveland. There’s not a ton going on sports-wise for our teams.

Sure, the Cavs are playing—but they’ve been playing for what feels like 37 consecutive months. And as the NBA’s marathon-long regular season drudges on, starters are resting and the playoffs still feel years away.

The Indians are warming up in Goodyear, but the combination of midday games and the perpetual three-hour time difference just makes them a bit hard to follow right now. It’s fun to follow things like Michael Brantley’s progress on Twitter,1 but that’s been about it.

The Browns are… there, I guess. (Are they?)

Don’t @ me that March Maddness is upon us. I’m aware and I’m excited. But that bracket-bonanza fun can be fleeting—especially as the tournament rolls on. Plus, as an OU Bobcat, I have no real dog in this fight.2

You know what else is weird for us right now? It’s cold. Like… really cold. Cold AF. So cold I had to take off my mittens to type this column.

And, while sports are a bit boring and we’re all basically walking around like little, frosty human popsicles right now, there are still plenty of awesome things to look forward to in the coming weeks and months. Let’s spend our Thursday morning together talking about those, shall we?

S-Town, the new podcast from Serial
Debuts March 28

YOU GUYS. Yes, I’ve gone on the record to say I hated Season 2 of the Serial podcast just as much as I loved Season 1, but I am so excited for this.

A man named John despises his Alabama town and decides to do something about it. S-Town, coming March 28. https://t.co/86cCLNwUF0

— S-Town Podcast (@stownpodcast) March 14, 2017

Produced by the folks at Serial and This American Life, S-Town seems to get back to what Sarah Koening and company did best—peeling back the layers of a complex murder mystery. From the podcast’s homepage:

John despises his Alabama town and decides to do something about it. He asks a reporter to investigate the son of a wealthy family who’s allegedly been bragging that he got away with murder. But then someone else ends up dead, sparking a nasty feud, a hunt for hidden treasure, and an unearthing of the mysteries of one man’s life.

OK, S-Town, I’m intrigued. Check out the homepage for an audio preview of the podcast, which runs about two-and-a-half minutes and confirms my suspicion that “S-Town” is short for “Shit-Town.”

The best part about the forthcoming pod? Taking a page from Netflix, all seven episodes of the season will be released at once. Hello, S-Town podcast binging! Nobody ask me to hang out on March 28. I’m busy.3

Cleveland International Film Festival
March 30—April 9

I’ve mentioned before that I am a CIFF seasonal staff member, and I just wanted to remind everyone how amazing it is. Held over 12 magical days inside Downtown’s Tower City Cinemas, CIFF is an amazing opportunity to expand your horizons, laugh until you cry, or just actually cry—because sometimes films are heavy.

Our interactive #CIFF41 Program Guide is now available online! Check it out here: https://t.co/SDn9J0JISH pic.twitter.com/qOF7zqq4FB

— #CIFF41 (@CIFF) March 14, 2017

In 2016, CIFF drew attendance numbers higher than 102,000 people, with 192 feature films representing 72 countries. There were also more than 200 short films screened, and 300 guest filmmakers from around the world here to visit. During my time working for CIFF, I’ve had the chance to meet some of those filmmakers—and they always say the same thing, “There is nothing on Earth quite like the Cleveland International Film Festival.” It’s not stuffy or pretentious, snobby or elitist. CIFF is welcoming, silly, serious, and moving.

I promise you, there is something for everyone. Tickets go on sale tomorrow morning here. Think about it, OK? And if you have questions, please reach out. I’ll be happy to help.

Opening Day
April 11

The two greatest words in the English language, and probably my favorite day of the entire year. Robbed of our experience last year due to some inclement weather and even worse planning on behalf of the team, I’m finding myself doubly excited for this season’s home opener.

That moment you realize we're just 28 days away from our #TribeOpener: pic.twitter.com/vmqEvZ7BG0

— Cleveland Indians (@Indians) March 14, 2017

Daytime beers, helmet nachos, a day off of work, BASEBALL, and the feeling that summertime is slowly meandering our way. What more could a Clevelander possibly want? Besides a win over the White Sox, and an elusive Kluber smile, of course.

Master of None, Season 2
Debuting May 12

I can’t say enough about how much I loved Season 1 of this Netflix gem, but I’ll try. Master of None is the Emmy-award-winning, semi-autobiographical story of Dev (Aziz Ansari) as he navigates a stalled acting career and dating as a 30-something. It is smart and funny and “real” and, at times, heartbreaking.

And now, it will have a second season.

Master of None Season 2 premieres May 12th on Netflix. pic.twitter.com/nqqogKPnrm

— Aziz Ansari (@azizansari) March 15, 2017

Is that the Italian countryside I see? Dev and his friend, Arnold, zipping around on Vespas? You guys! I’m so excited for this!

Alright, guys, that’s my short life of “things I’m excited about to get me through the rest of this hum-drum sports-slump and freezing cold, miserable weather.” Tell me—what am I missing? What are you most excited for in the next few weeks and months? Tell me in the comments, enjoy the opening of March Madness, and have a great Thursday, Cleveland. We’re almost there.

1. Jason Kipnis’ shoulder, not so much.
2. Except for Villanova, whom I picked to win it all.
3. Editor’s note: For podcast fans, this episode dump appears to be the next wave. The NY Times recently did this with their “13 songs that capture our moment” series.

“Just try it,” he pleaded.

I’m reluctant, and let out a deep sigh to tell him so.

“It’s fun, I swear,” he continues. “Just give it a chance.”

********

Several weeks later, and he and I are sitting on the same couch, in front of the same flat screen TV.

“There’s NO WAY they’d move Seth Rollins,” he says. “He was Raw’s first pick in the draft less than a year ago!”

“YEAH BUT,” I dispute,” Dean Ambrose was SmackDown’s first pick in that same draft… and they’ve already moved him!”

He looks at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open in equal parts shock and adoration as professional wrestling blares in the background. “Look at you!” he exclaims.

How did we get here? And who have I become?

********

It started innocently enough. In the midst of our usual “Tuesday-night-pizza-and-TV date,” we were surfing channels, desperate for something to watch.

Boyfriend came across SmackDown, the second of two consecutive nights of live WWE programming that airs weekly on the USA network. He wanted to watch.

I… didn’t. Not even a little bit.

He pleaded and made his case, promising it would be over-the-top and entertaining. I, who had never watched a minute of professional wrestling in my life, reluctantly agreed.

The over-the-top storylines. The ridiculous acting. The allies and adversaries and absurdity. It was more manufactured drama than The Bachelor and, not only was Boyfriend right about WWE being entertaining, it wasn’t long before I was hooked.

Which brings us to this week when, on the heels of the thirty-third Wrestlemania just eight days earlier, the main WWE franchises, Raw and SmackDown, announced a “Superstar Skakeup.” Half of these “Shakeup” announcements, in which personalities from each of two programs would switch to the other, would take place on Monday night’s program, Raw, and the other half on Tuesday’s live show, SmackDown.

For those who don’t follow wrestling: First of all, if you’re still reading to this point, THANK YOU. Second, think of Raw and SmackDown like the American League and National League. Similar but different—and usually separate. Both “leagues” play under the same corporate umbrella, with occasional opportunities for crossover.

Missing the opportunity to watch Raw live, Boyfriend and I sat down after the Indians’ Home Opener on Tuesday night to catch up on both—and see what the “Shakeup” had in store. If you’re familiar with WWE, you know that this is five hours of wrestling programming. That’s a feat we don’t normally attempt, but so much wrestling backed into one evening gave me so much to think about. I started taking notes.

The Biggest Moves to Raw

• SmackDown’s Intercontinental Champion Dean Ambrose, whose hair looks perpetually damp, made the jump to Raw. I found this shocking, because he was definitely a central figure on Tuesday night’s show, most recently feuding with Baron Corbin, whose hair also looks perpetually damp. (Perhaps the source of their feud?)

Photo: WWE

• Also making the move to Monday is Bray Wyatt, who currently holds no WWE belts, but does hold the title “Creepiest Human Alive.” Wyatt’s weird, drawn-out story line involving nemesis Randy Orton, a spirit called “Sister Abigal,” and a haunted cabin was wearing thin and giving me the creeps. Boy, bye.

Photo: WWE

• Cleveland’s own Mike “The Miz” Mizanin also made the jump to Raw, along with his wife, Maryse. She doesn’t really “wrestle,” but Maryse is great at standing on the side of the ring and getting mad when her husband gets pummeled, which is often.

Photo: WrestlingRumors.net

• You know Mindy Kaling’s character in Inside Out, Disgust? If that character were a real person, it would be Alexa Bliss, who made the move to Raw’s women’s division.

Photo: WWE

The Biggest Moves to SmackDown

• I’ve often wondered why Raw is a whole hour longer than SmackDown, but I realize now it’s because of how slowly Kevin Owens speaks. Regardless, the WWE U.S. Champion moved over to SmackDown—no word yet if it will move up to three-hour episodes as a result.

Photo: Sportskeeda

• The most exciting news? My favorite humans on Earth, The New Day, are soon making the jump to SmackDown as well. I find myself catching Tuesday night’s program way more often than Monday’s, so I’m beyond thrilled that Big E, Xavier Woods, and Kofi Kingston will soon be there. The tag-team trio, decked out in neon, sparkles, and unicorns, frequently brandish a trombone, ride an ice cream bike, and dump boxes of BootyOs cereal onto their fans—and that’s just the beginning. New Day, if you’re reading this, please never change.

Photo: Forbes

• Also joining SmackDown from Raw is Sami Zayn, who appears to be one of at least 16 WWE Superstars with a red beard. I’m not super familiar with Zayn yet, but I think that he—along with “The Queen” Charlotte Flair—will shake-up the SmackDown storylines nicely. Yes, Charlotte is Rick’s daughter and yes, before you ask, she does that “WOOO!” thing too.

********

A while back, our friend Will Gibson wrote an article about “embracing the absurdity” when it came to cheering for the Cleveland Browns. In writing this piece, I realized that’s what makes WWE so entertaining to me. It is—and always has been—completely absurd, a trait the franchise celebrates without abandon.

Sure, there’s plenty of high-flying and impressive acts of athleticism on display, but the ridiculously crazy story lines are what make it fun. I love trying to predict who’s going to win each match, and the backstage fights are just as entertaining as those in the ring. I still can’t believe it, but I’m a huge fan of WWE—and I can’t wait to see what these new “shaken-up” rosters bring.

Go out and enjoy this beautiful Thursday, you guys. And the next time someone tells you to “try it, you might like it,” maybe give something new a chance. Even if you think you don’t want to… you never know what you may find.

Dear R.J.,

First of all, great win last night. I’m so glad you guys got up on the Raptors early, and stayed there. I think the closest they came was within 10 or so? Yikes.

Anyways, I’m not going to waste your time, so let’s get right to it. I’m writing to you today with a desperate plea. Please, Richard, please… unblock me on Snapchat.

I get it. I committed a cardinal Snapchat sin when I screen-grabbed one of your Snaps last year. But hear me out.

I was one of your earliest followers. A friend had passed along your username to me, and I was absolutely thrilled. That’s the cool but uniquely frustrating thing about Snapchat, isn’t it? It’s not as easy or intuitive to seek out people you want to follow. Getting passed your name shortly after you joined was like striking Gold—the kind that pairs best with Wine.

Your Snaps were as entertaining as they were fleeting; rare glimpses into the “behind-the-scenes” Cavs, a version of our team so many of us Clevelanders never get to see. Beer pong with Delly and Channing. LeBron actually driving a KIA. Planes, trains and automobiles. It was pure magic in the palm of my hand.

I felt so inspired by your Snaps, it gave me an idea. I wanted to write a piece for Waiting for Next Year called “The Cleveland sports fan’s guide to Snapchat.” At the time, many fans were just figuring the medium out. I planned to provide usernames and quick profiles for as many Cleveland athletes I could find. I wanted our readers to see what kinds of posts they’d be seeing from their favorite athletes, and you were the top of my list. I took a screen grab one afternoon and planned to include it in my piece.

Soon after, a co-worker asked me, “Oh my gosh, did you see RJ’s Snap today?” I hadn’t, so I opened up the app to look. You weren’t there. Confused, I assumed it was an error and moved on.

And then… it happened again.

And again.

That’s when I, positive Snapchat was just “acting weird,” attempted to re-add you to my list of friends. To my horror and heartbreak, I couldn’t. You were there when I searched, but I couldn’t—and still can’t—add you.

So close, yet so far.

I was blocked. Blocked like Iguodala in Game 7. Banished to a life of FOMO and looking over others’ shoulders to see your Snaps. Sentenced to a Snapchat existence where I missed the inception of Lil Kev, your vantage point of winning the NBA Championship and your un-retirement from the league.

All for one little screen grab?

At the time of “Grab-Gate,” a name I just made up, your Snapchat was a bit unknown and certainly flying under the radar. I totally get why my screen grab may have raised a red flag for. But now? You’re HUGE on Snapchat! I see screen grabs of your Snaps all over Twitter. Here’s a whole USA TODAY article full of them, actually. Did you block Alysha Tsuji, too?

Richard, listen. I’m a huge fan. Honestly, I am. I listen to your pod, Road Trippin’, every week. I even wrote a piece awhile back, encouraging our readers to do the same. Fun fact: I also once wrote a piece that condemned “open letters” like this, because I generally think they’re pointless. But here I am, so desperate to be let back into the magical world of your Snapchats that I’m doing the unthinkable—writing an open letter to you.

You know what else? I looked back and I can’t even find it. I CAN’T EVEN FIND THE SCREEN GRAB THAT GOT ME BLOCKED. But yet I’m still paying for it?

If you find it in your heart to forgive me for “Grab-Gate,” please take me off of your block list. I’d love to re-join your loyal legions of followers, and I promise I won’t take anymore screen grabs. Go Cavs.

XO,
Jessica
@jessaforrester on Snapchat

It’s been a rough couple of weeks, you guys. The news is just… a lot lately, isn’t it? There are both horrible and frustrating things happening here and abroad and, at times, it can be overwhelming to scroll through a social media platform like Twitter and take it all in.

It’s easy to feel inundated with so much upsetting news swirling around, and lately I find myself looking for a little relief, retreating to @BabyAnmals on Instagram and all the corgi videos I can find on YouTube.

Desperate for a little good news, an unexpected source—the NFL—delivered this week. Never did I think the No Fun League, ahem National Football League, would surprise me with a little piece of positive news when I needed it, but here we are. Tuesday afternoon, NFL Commissioner and generally all-around-unpopular guy Roger Goodell made an announcement that will—I hope—have a huge impact on the league.

Following conversations with dozens of players, we’re making changes to our celebrations policy: https://t.co/1NLdEJjsGD

— Roger Goodell (@nflcommish) May 23, 2017

THAT’S RIGHT. NFL touchdown celebrations are back! Well, kind of. The rules around NFL touchdown celebrations are loosened, ya’ll! Call me a dork if you want (it wouldn’t be the first time), but I find myself very excited about this.

In an effort to put some “flair” and fun back into football. Goodell announced that certain types of touchdown celebrations would be allowed in the upcoming NFL season. Celebrations permitted include using the football as a prop, celebrating as a group and rolling around on the ground (snow angels, anyone?).

Any celebrations deemed offensive will still be penalized, including suggestive dancing (sorry, guys, still no twerking), ridiculing opponents and mimicking weapon use. But who wants to see those anyway?

Goodell cited conversations with more than 80 current and former NFL players in determining his decision, and shared the news via Twitter and in an email sent to NFL fans. An excerpt from that announcement:

We know that you love the spontaneous displays of emotion that come after a spectacular touchdown. And players have told us they want more freedom to be able to express themselves and celebrate their athletic achievements.

Thank you for acknowledging that, Roger, we NFL fans do love spontaneous displays of emotion when it comes to football. We also don’t love unnecessary penalties or rules that prevent NFL players and fans alike from celebrating successes and generally enjoying ourselves at the game.

The NFL’s former rules around touchdown celebrations seemed overly harsh, inciting as much as 15 penalty yards and striking a nerve with those on and off the field. I’ve even read that NFL referees have complained about the severity of the rules, stating that it puts them in difficult (and often unpopular) situations when deciding what’s allowed and what’s not.

And while these new, loosened-up rules aren’t perfect, and they certainly aren’t and exact, they feel like step in the right direction.

Twitter can be a funny place, and I was admittedly surprised to see this news was met with a lot of cynicism on social media. I came across a lot of tweets expression feelings of “Too little, too late” and “Who cares? You already ruined it. We can’t enjoy it now.” I get that, but I also don’t. Why not just enjoy it? When you’re a little kid and you’re told not to run, you listen and you walk. Then, you probably break into a full sprint the minute you can. This is kind of the same thing. The rules were harsh, but now they’re not. Let’s relax and have some fun.

After all, touchdown celebrations are just that, a small celebration. They’re a moment for players to express themselves, and a moment for fans to enjoy. We’re getting them back—at least a little bit—and to me, that’s something to celebrate.

Before you take on your Thursday, here’s former Cleveland Brown Andrew Hawkins doing the robot (kind of) after catching an 11-yard pass from Cody Kessler for a TD. You can see more great celebrations here, courtesy of Charles Curis at USA TODAY. Enjoy, you guys.

Cody Kessler to Andrew Hawkins… That's an 11-yard @Browns TD! #NEvsCLE https://t.co/sFwGdtfeld

— NFL (@NFL) October 9, 2016

Hello darkness, our old friend.

How soon we ended up here, on the losing side of an epic NBA Finals. Less than one year after 1.3 million of us danced in the streets and stood on tiptoes to catch a glimpse of a abruptly planned but magical Championship parade, we’re drying our tears, hanging up our black, sleeved jerseys and turning our eyes to The Jake.

The 2017 NBA Finals presented an emotional roller coaster we Cavs fans weren’t quite accustomed to. The downside of cruising through the Eastern Conference Playoffs is… well, you cruised through the Eastern Conference Playoffs. Sure, steamrolling everyone was fun, but our guys weren’t the only ones who went somewhat untested. We, as fans, weren’t quite tested, either.

We knew there was a buzzsaw waiting for us out West. We knew an incredible team got even stronger with the addition of KD. But we believed in our guys, and rightfully so. We’d watch them win with such ease over the Pacers, the Raptors and Celtics.

And now, after five games of exceptionally high highs and frustrating, painful lows, we’re back to that hollow, empty feeling of a season ended just a tiny bit too soon. As our team fought and faltered, and as the Larry O’Brien trophy slipped further and further away, I realized we Cavs fans were experiencing something significant: the five stages of NBA Finals grief.

Denial

Denial is the first stage in accepting an NBA Finals loss and, in my experience, it begins way before the end of the final Finals game. “Yeah but,” I found myself telling my friends after Game 2, “They can come back from this. Being down 0-2 is nothing. Nothing!”

I said the same thing after the heartbreaking loss of Game 3.

And toward the end of the third quarter of Game 5.

As the writing on the wall became more and more clear, I let my relentless optimism take the wheel. Is it denial, or is it hope? That, friends, is in the eye of the beholder.

Anger

I’ll be honest and tell you that this stage dominated my mood and mindset throughout pretty much all five Finals games. Except for Game 4, in which my mood was more tipsy and jubilant, but the Internet tells me neither of those are stages of grief.

I can’t tell you how many F-bombs were hurtled at my TV. How many “UGH I HATE HIM!” or “I CAN’T” texts I sent to friends, followed by the little knife emoji (sometimes about Steph, usually about Draymond, once about Zaza The Nut Puncher).

With each passing minute, America’s Most Unlikeable Team got even more unlikeable, and I got even angrier. During Game 5, I’d get so frustrated that I’d flip the channel to an episode of Friends that’s old enough to drive. A few minutes later, though, and I’d find myself screaming, once again, at my TV.

Though we’re now a few days removed from “The Loss,” it’s really easy to slip into the anger phase. One quick glimpse of Steph Curry chewing on his mouth guard, or of KD choking on his beer, and I anger-spiral quick. It’s been a rough week on Twitter.

Bargaining

I, like many Cleveland sports fans, am never more religious than I am when a big game is on the line. “If we could just make these free throws.” “Please, can we just, sink this shot.” “Please, oh please, don’t let this be the end…”

When seemingly insurmountable odds stacking rapidly against us, we often bow our collective heads and send a little wish up to the sky. And, whether you choose to pray to God or Woody Hayes or Buddha, it’s a way to cope with the feeling of powerlessness that slowly sinks in when, as a fan, a win you desperately need feels further and further away.

Depression

If I’m being honest, I’m currently straddling the line between this phase and the next. I’m not ready for basketball to be over, and I miss our guys already. I can’t bring myself to watch to watch anything related to our 2016 Championship, because I know I’d cry my eyes out (well honestly that always makes me cry, Finals loss or not).

If grief is a process of healing from something that hurt your heart, depression is a necessary and completely unavoidable step along the way.

Acceptance

Oh boy. I just started thinking about Steph chewing on that mouth guard, and I’m feeling closer to anger than acceptance.

But here’s the thing. Accepting an NBA Finals loss isn’t about feeling “alright” or “OK” with the outcome, it’s about accepting that what we didn’t want to happen did, in fact, happen. It sucks and it’s sad, but it’s true. No matter how much we swear or how hard we pray or how relentlessly we deny, we can’t change what happened—we can only look forward.

We’ll never like the fact that the 2017 Cavs couldn’t come back from being down 0-3, but as time passes and new Championship opportunities come Cleveland’s way, I promise we’ll all feel a little better.1

Chins up, buttercups. Have a great Thursday.

1. The sooner the better, Indians.

About a week ago, Cleveland Indians fans noticed something peculiar on Twitter. A once-beloved, quite-famous saying that felt like belonged to us and only us… had suddenly crossed state lines. When former Tribe first basement Mike Napoli returned to the Texas Rangers, he took Party at Napoli’s along for the ride.

Image via @108Stitches

Originally incepted by Indians fan Nate Crowe, Party at Napoli’s became a 2016 major league sensation. Within months of its first appearance, the phrase went from silly ballpark sign to a T-shirt that Indians Team Shops couldn’t keep on the shelves. A charity event followed after, along with a limited-release playoff edition, and T-shirt sales surged throughout the season. When it was all said and done, Indians fans and the Party at Napoli’s movement had raised close to $200,000 for Cleveland Clinic Children’s Hospital.

And now, it’s not “ours” anymore.

WFNY spoke with Crowe, that’s @HipsterTito to you, about Party at Napoli’s last call in Cleveland—and it’s new home in the Lonestar State.

Nate, I need you to talk me off the ledge. What is going on? Why are we suddenly seeing Party at Napoli’s on Texas Rangers’ fans?

Napoloi has a brand now. He HAS to keep to it going. Rangers fans were excited to have him back and just like their fans, the ball club was happy to have him back, too.

Last year during the launch of the original shirt, several Rangers/former teammates had bought the shirt. I guess you could say the groundwork was there with a built-in fan base.

Were you involved at all in the new iteration of the shirt? How much so?

I had some involvement, but mostly in DMs and casual conversation. Technically, because I don’t have a legal stake in the phrase or artwork, they didn’t need my permission. But, they still sought me out to get my thoughts. Eric, John, Marc, and all the folks at 108 Stitches really are stand-up people.

It’s really a cool thing that we still talk and connected again on the revival.

Totally agree. I didn’t think we’d have a chance to revisit Party at  Napoli’s. How soon after Nap became a Ranger did they reach out?

Actually, behind-the-scenes, the conversation started not too long after Nap had signed with Texas. It didn’t become a sure thing until the season started. Soon after, the Rangers started little media bits with Nap booking a party by phone with the input of his teammates.

It sounds like they’re having some success? Did I hear they’ve raised $15,000 already?

With a .156 batting average, it’s not the easiest sales pitch to a fan base. (Writer’s note: lol.)

Regardless, their fans still showed up and the shirt sold out in one day. Coincidentally, Nap hit two HRs, including a three-run walk-off the day after the release of the shirt and orders poured in. This time around, 108 is better equipped for any home-run-fueled demand!

They’ve raised $15,000 so far, in less than a week of sales, which is $15,000 more than I thought if you asked me after Game 7 last year. When you consider the $200,000 last year for the Clinic, it’s still incredible to sit back, look at the number and say “WOW.”

Judging by Twitter, you’re already back at it, filling the Jake with good spirits and plenty more of your trademark oversized (and hilarious) signs. Have any signs been a big hit so far?

Back to just being a fan! I went to Opening Day and it was a little weird doing so just to hang out with friends and no oversized signs. I’ve made a few signs but crowds haven’t been the most lively just yet. This past weekend, I did make a few signs that caught a few eyes. I’m not sure Paul Molitor was a fan of “MOLITOR WEARS DAD JEANS,” but their outfielders were during batting practice.

Hope @AlPawlowski doesn't rock dad jeans.

cc: @JLEWFifty pic.twitter.com/0gWbb1PTVA

— HIPSTER TITO (@HipsterTito) May 12, 2017

During the same game, I broke out the “CHRIS GIMENEZ APPRECIATION NIGHT” sign, which Indians Social caught on to and joked along. In the weeks prior, I had been talking to Chris through Twitter about making a sign for his return to Cleveland. He joked along with it and pumped his fist from the dugout when he saw the sign in the Corner. Chris was great to have here… he was the only one who could keep Bauer in line, so the sign had some truth to it.

I’ve also made a “GOAT, PARROT, TACOS, AND BEER” checklist sign that seems pretty fitting for Fridays, so I’ll keep bringing that one back.

Tonight. Still time to get a ticket. pic.twitter.com/USH8s1WGfm

— HIPSTER TITO (@HipsterTito) May 12, 2017

Any exciting plans in the works for this season? Anything you can tell us?

Not really from a rally cry at this point: I figure if something comes along, we’ll jump on it. That’s what made last year so much fun… it was organic and all intended to be positive. People still bring up variations of “Fiesta at Edwin’s,” which I can assure will not be something I’ll do. Somebody else can run with that if they want.

In the interim, I’ve spent quite a bit of time doing additional fundraising for Cleveland Clinic Children’s through the great people I met during the Party at Napoli’s run. I’ll be participating in this year’s VeloSano ride with a team from the Clinic, and I’m currently raising money/seeking donations for my 50 mile ride. I’m at roughly 75% of my pledge goal with two months to go. I will ride in honor of my aunt who passed away at 48 after a bout with cancer.

The more involved I am, the more personal it’s become.

My wife and I had the opportunity to attend the annual Cleveland Clinic Children’s fundraiser gala a few weeks ago, and by chance we ran into Hawken Hunt’s parents, Bob and Shannon. Hawken is the child I visited back in October two months after his Burkitt’s leukemia diagnosis. Since that visit, Hawken is now in remission and growing every day as a healthy one-year-old boy. It was hard not to get choked up over what’s happened since we last saw each other, but it was such a great feeling to see them in high spirits after all they had gone through. They’ve decided to take that experience and start a foundation targeted towards parents and families facing similar medical hardships. We’re working together to get a sticker for my VeloSano bike helmet to represent their efforts with lifEXTRAORDINARY.

That is wonderful news and you are a tremendous human, as is Hawken. Speaking of tremendous, are the original/better Party at Napoli’s shirts still available?

Unfortunately, the originals are now a thing of the past and no longer printed. There may still be a few remnants left in the team shop, but it’s been officially replaced on the 108 Stitches website.

Do you still wear yours?

Absolutely! They make for great shirts at the gym or beach because the material is breathable… and when feeling a bit nostalgic. While it may not apply to the current landscape of Cleveland sports, it still represents one of the more fun times we’ve had in recent years.

Nate, I couldn’t agree more.

—

You can purchase the new Party at Napoli’s shirt, which benefits the Texas Rangers MLB Youth Academy, here.

And, you can donate to Nate Crowe’s VeloSano page here.

After a season spent Partying at Napoli’s and raising close to $200,000 for Cleveland Clinic Children’s Hospital, Tribe fan Nate Crowe had bid farewell to the famous phrase he coined—and the player behind it. But, when former Indians first baseman Mike Napoli returned to Cleveland for the first time, Crowe (that’s @HipsterTito  to you) made sure he was there to see it.

He chatted with Waiting for Next Year on his experience at the game, how it felt to see Nap back at the Jake, and why he’s ready to move on to what’s next.

NATE. I felt like I said this last time, but I can’t believe we’re talking about Party at Napoli’s one more time. Can you believe it?

It feels like every time is the last time but here we are again. This is definitely it for Party at Napoli’s… at least here in Cleveland, anyway. With the last ring ceremony and first game back out of the way, I think it finally rides off into the sunset of what 2016 was.

Tell me all about being at the game. What an incredible comeback!

That was out of nowhere. After standing out in the right field corner all weekend, watching the Twins absolutely put the Indians road win vibes to shame, I was expecting more of the same by the time the Rangers put seven on the board. Once it became 9-2, it was just a slap-happy type of game. More chatter with friends than anything else at that point. I did point out to a few folks around us during the bottom of the fourth that comebacks happen one run at a time. When Perez scored on the Lindor ground out, we all jokingly put up one finger… announcing the rally was on.

I think we stopped joking around in the bottom of the fifth, and started clamoring about how the Texas bullpen could find a way to blow it (which has been a pitfall for them all season… memories of the Lindor grand slam off their then-closer at the start of the season). The bottom of the sixth on is a crazy blur of yelling, high fives, jumping and plastic saxophones. It was one of those fan experiences you only get so many times. Maybe in 10 years, the Indians will memorialize it like they did with the Seattle comeback and suddenly 100,000 people can say they were there for it.

Were you there to see Nap get his ring? How was it?

Yes, I arrived two hours early to be there for batting practice to heckle a bit, stop by to see Jensen and Al, then get one last crack at what was last year. The Indians did a video montage which was a nice hat tip to Nap’s contributions last year. Despite how awful that postseason performance was, they would not have been in that position without his 34 HRs and 101 RBIs, along with the presence he carried in the clubhouse. The 2017 Indians have missed that presence. There hasn’t been someone taking that “extra Francona in the dugout” role the way that Nap did all of last year. While Edwin is an absolutely incredible talent and a huge upgrade, the Indians haven’t solved the “wily, sage veteran” piece to the puzzle that most successful ballclubs seem to have. For a quick montage, there were plenty of thoughts and insights.

Cut4 had a nice pic they tweeted of the ceremony with the fans in the background. It was all well done by the Indians.

With 13 unanswered runs? We bet. #PartyAtProgressive https://t.co/1BZVtM2PTP pic.twitter.com/T4H2ETTLyT

— Cut4 (@Cut4) June 27, 2017

I heard a rumor you had a “Napoli Appreciation Night” planned. What’d you do?

Nothing big… just shirts and the big sign.

Back again. #PartyAtNapolis @Indians @Rangers pic.twitter.com/N1SjgyHUOW

— HIPSTER TITO (@HipsterTito) June 26, 2017

I thought about bringing the original sign again, but that one will remain under lock and key. Of course, I was treading a line here between enjoying last year and wanting to turn the corner this year, so I didn’t want to do more than really what started everything. A few people asked if there would be anything more but I didn’t inquire or consider. In the end, it was Game 75 and the Indians needed to get back on track after this past weekend. When they do, Nap can visit to join in on the celebration. I’m sure he can find plenty of places to stay. The Barley House can offer up a few couches.

How did it feel, to see Nap back at The Jake?

This year has been in such a weird funk. The All-Universe shortstop with plate discipline suddenly is stuck on flying out (yes, Lindor is hitting HRs but the rest is a drop-off and that’s not what the team needs him to be). The starting rotation is a mess. Despite a great record on the road, they are routinely getting dusted up at home. Injuries. Illnesses. 2016 celebration babies and the resulting paternity leaves (lol). This team, and frankly this year, needed a shot in the arm and maybe this was the right reminder to get back.

It was a bit refreshing to see Nap back: watching him interact with everyone during batting practice, waving to fans in the stands, walking around to various parts of the field and just absorbing his surroundings. I’d never seen him do that before, so I can only assume… but at one point he walked out to center field, wrote something on the warning track, patted the wall and walked back to the Rangers dugout before warming up more. On a smaller scale, it was similar to when Chris Gimenez was back: he walked around to catch up with everyone. It’s always great to see former players who enjoyed their time here come back and interact with everyone.

Maybe it’s not so bad in this city after all.

Definitely one of the best games I've ever been to with the best crew to watch a game with. #WeStillParty #RallyingTogether @HipsterTito pic.twitter.com/p15c4i0hmS

— Cory O'Connor (@CoryO24) June 27, 2017

Did you get a chance to speak with him before the game?

I did not. I didn’t want to bother him, so I figured I could just send him a message on Twitter later. He did wave during warm-ups when he saw the “WE STILL PARTY” sign. There were a ton of other folks out that had a bunch of stuff for him to sign, etc. and didn’t want to add to all of that noise. I’m a 38 year old father of three… I’m awkward enough as it is. Bugging somebody to talk isn’t in the awkward dad playbook.

What was great though was how many people who were a part of last year’s festivities were there. It wasn’t a sell out by any means, but running into people I haven’t seen in quite a while was great. One of those people was Kat, whom I haven’t seen in person since the World Series (we still talk through Twitter and other messengers to keep tabs on each other). I had mentioned to a few others recently that there were things I missed about last year: being around these people I met through the whole Party at Napoli’s stuff is one of those.

Please tell me, despite it being a night of Nap, Jason Kipnis’ Saxy Saxophones were out in full force. 

Absolutely.

Photo courtesy of Nate Crowe.

“Playing” the saxophones during Ookay’s “Thief” when Kip comes up to the plate is a fun thing to do (credit to a friend of mine, Anthony, who bought the first set of saxophones and brought them to the game. We talked about it and he delivered… he’s now unofficially “Saxthony.”). People around us get into it and we’re starting to see other people bringing in inflatable saxophones to join in. The Hot Dogs have picked up on it and have their own saxophones. Cut4 and MLB made it into a gif. It’s another organic thing that would be cool if it picked up some steam and got going into something. 2017 needs fun. This could be it if the team picks it up on the field. I’ve talked to the Indians about doing a video of Kip taking a sax to the plate instead of a bat, but it’s going to tread down a path of licensing for use of “Thief” that the price tag may quickly exceed the value. What’s funny is that Ookay has liked a few of the tweets directed to him about Kipnis using his song and the reactions it has been getting.

If you think about it… there really could be something there. Maybe we could fly in the Sexy Sax Man himself Sergio Flores.

Cue the smoke pouring out of the dugout… Kip appears bat in hand, walks out to the batters box with Sergio in tow….

*booooooooodooo*do*do*do*do*do*do*boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooodoooo*do*do*do*do*do*do*

Maybe something will happen there: we’ll see.

.@AnthonyDiPiero7 download #15SOF to get your #MLB TV clips! Also let us know if you need help trademarking Inflatable Sax King. pic.twitter.com/cbGDgYJUie

— 15 Seconds of Fame (@15SOF) May 27, 2017

I was going to ask you what you’ve got planned next, but it sounds like you’ve already got something cooking. We’ll keep an eye out, Nate. 

Happy Thursday, gang! I hope y’all have come down from that collective, patriotism-induced, ‘MERICA hangover. Two days removed from America’s annual celebration of independence and bald eagles, and I’m no longer sporting stars and stripes from head to toe… but I am still feeling that too-many-hotdogs-and-Bud-Lights bloat. (Just as our forefathers intended, I’m sure.)

Have you noticed the boom that’s sweeping through Cleveland? I’m not talking about dudes in cut-off jorts lighting oversized fire crackers that they swear are legal; I’m talking about the paternity boom that’s making its way through the Cleveland Indians’ clubhouse.

Seriously, have you noticed? Yesterday, the Tribe announced that first baseman Carlos Santana would be going on paternity leave for the birth of his third child. Santana would be out for Wednesday’s run-deprived loss the San Diego Padres, and could be out until Saturday at the latest.

That announcement came just two weeks after Tribe closer Cody Allen was placed on the team’s paternity list following the birth of his child. A week before that, outfielder/smooth operator Michael Brantley went on paternity leave, as well.

The timing is interesting, no? A quick glance at the calendar confirmed this rash of new Tribe-tots is no coincidence… the American League Championship Series was almost exactly nine months ago. Oh. So… we kind of know how Carlos, Cody and Michael (and their respective wives) celebrated the Indians’ American League championship. Turns out the clubhouse champagne showers were just the appetizer.

And then, I was reminded that two more Indians, Carlos Carrasco and Mike Clevinger, also went on paternity leave during the team’s 2017 spring training—about nine months after the Golden State Warriors blew a 3-1 lead and the Cleveland Cavaliers won the NBA Finals.

Photo courtesy: Carlos Carrasco via Instagram

Tom Hamilton went on air Wednesday night to credit the team’s youthful exuberance with being the root of this not-so-coincidental flurry of babies, but it’s clear this is a team that likes to get down after major victories, and I am here for it. But this clubhouse baby boom got me thinking… What’s the deal with the MLB’s paternity-leave policy, anyway?

It turns out, the MLB didn’t institute its paternity leave policy until 2011. As a lifelong Tribe fan, I honestly don’t recall its inception. I also don’t remember it not existing. It just seems like the option to step away from the team for a few days should have always just been a thing, right?

Well it wasn’t, but it is now. So, how does it work? From Fangraphs:

The basic procedure for putting a player on the paternity list is simple: The club submits a written request to the commissioner’s office for a player whose child’s birth is imminent or has occurred within the previous 48 hours. Players can miss between one and three days.

Three days doesn’t seem like a lot of time to bond with one’s wife and new baby, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. It’s up to each player (and probably more so his wife) to determine how many of the three available days he’ll take.

As someone who’s been to a lot of baby showers over the last five years, my thoughts then turned to gifts. What do you get for the new Tribe dad who (probably) has everything?

For Carlos Santana:

Photo courtesy of BABYBJÖRN

As a former catcher, Carlos should feel right at home in this baby carrier, right? Plus, he’s a dad of three now–he’ll probably need to be hands-free as much as he can. Also: Carlos.

For Cody Allen:

Photo courtesy of CraftsEverywhere

Like father, like son? This baby hat is equal parts adorable and awesome, and is available on Etsy.

For Michael Brantley:

My sources could not confirm whether Dr. Smooth assisted in the birth of his child, but this outfit would be a perfect gift either way.

Speaking of perfect, I hope your Thursday is just that, Cleveland. I’ll keep an eye on the Tribe’s baby count for now.

SaveSave

Oh, Cleveland. How did we get here?

In terms of our beloved Cavs, the past week really… well, it really escalated quickly, didn’t it?

Last Friday afternoon, I was elbow-deep in a pitcher of watermelon margaritas at Johnny Mangos when an ESPN push notification popped up on my phone. I glanced over and saw a note that Kyrie Irving had asked the Cavs not to trade him. “Well… obviously,” I thought to myself. “Slow news day, ESPN?”

Minutes later, my phone blew up. Texts and tweets and general outrage over Kyrie were suddenly flooding in. Confused, I looked again. Oh.

How strong were those margaritas, Johnny?

I, like so many Cleveland fans, was equal parts baffled and heartbroken at the news that Cavaliers point guard Kyrie Irving had asked the team to be traded away. Didn’t he love us as much as we love him? Doesn’t he love it here, in beautiful, sunny Cleveland? Isn’t he happy returning to the NBA Finals three years in a row, one of which he hit the game-winning shot in Game 7, when the Warriors blew a 3-1 lead?

The answer to all three of those questions is, “apparently not.” Or, at the very least, “not enough.” So much time and energy, not to mention all the sports-talk listener calls, devoted to where LeBron James is heading in 2018—we, collectively, never saw this coming.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that one of our best players wants to leave. It sucks. The thought of Kyrie in anything other than wine and gold already makes my heart hurt. But if he wants out, he’s probably already as good as gone. The sooner we accept that fact—even if we don’t agree with his reasons why—the sooner we’ll all be OK, Cleveland.

So, now what? I’m no expert at this, but here’s how I’m coping. Let’s call it the “Handy Guide for Getting Over Kyrie Irving.”

In the Immediate Future

Wait and see. I’ve never been one for patience, but what more can we Cavs fans do at this point? The wheels are in motion, but nothing is final or announced yet. Quit over-thinking. Quit asking yourself what you could have done. Let’s take some deep breaths, and see what happens.

Distract. Hopefully you’ve noticed, but things are happening on the corner of Carnegie and Ontario. Instead of dreaming up more potential deals in the NBA trade machine, why not mosey over to The Jake and take in a game? Eat some amazing food, drink some good beer, cheer for the racing Hot Dogs… your broken little heart will feel better in no time.

Decide your fandom. One thing to consider: Do you love Kyrie enough to keep cheering for him, regardless of where he lands? If you do, great. You’re a Kyrie fan first and a Cavs fan second and that’s totally OK. If you don’t, SAME. Wish him well and prepare yourself for what’s to come.

If He Gets Traded

Don’t burn your Irving jersey. Bruh. For the love of God, don’t be that guy (or girl).

Don’t give it away, either. I can assure you that I eventually regretted the decision to aggressively donate my blue-and-orange LeBron throwback to the Cuyahoga Falls Goodwill on the morning of July 9, 2010. Don’t make a permanent decision based on a temporary feeling. For now, fold up that jersey and stick it in the back of a dresser drawer. Roll up your Uncle Drew T-shirt and shove it under your bed. Get that stuff out of sight, but keep it, OK? You never know.

Don’t be a dick. Depending on where he lands, Kyrie will more than likely end up facing the Cavs back at The Q sometime. Don’t boo him. Don’t tweet at him. Don’t send him snaps or leave hateful comments on his Instagram uploads. Please. Let’s give the guy, who gave us his first six years in the NBA, a little bit of respect.

Treasure the memories—and move on. Watch The Shot. Watch it again. Watch every single Uncle Drew clip you can find. We don’t have to love the fact that Kyrie wanted out and left, but we can love the time he spent here.

And, no matter what happens, we’ll always have 2016. Thanks, Kyrie, for everything.

Twitter can be a wonderful and terrible place.

It is, after all, an instant and on-demand window into most of the world and many of the people in it in real time. It’s where news breaks. It’s where we gather together to live-tweet Tribe games and Bachelor in Paradise episodes and something called “Game of Thrones” (I’m told). It’s where we celebrate and share and connect virtually any time we want—and that’s really just the beginning.

But, that’s the thing about Twitter… it has no “off” switch. It’s a constant and relentless force that, at times, can quickly start to feel overwhelming. As the never-ending, negative news cycle of today’s political climate cycles through over and over again, Twitter never stops serving up the latest. It’s essential, but it’s brutal, and I’ve found it doesn’t take long for “scrolling mindlessly and looking for pictures of Fiona the Hippo” to become “curling up on the couch and quietly weeping because it feels like the world is on the brink of falling apart.”

It’s in those times, however, that it’s important to look for the good people. The people who are sharing their opinions passionately, but sharing so much more than that, too. The people who are standing up for what’s right, and going out of their way to help lift others to their feet. The people who are just plain nice.

The people like Shea Serrano.

Shea, a former teacher who lives in Houston, is a staff writer at The Ringer. Having cut his chops at regional publications like the Houston Press and LA Weekly, Shea eventually worked his way to Bill Simmons’ Grantland, where he wrote about a little of everything, from going gift shopping with 2Chainz to finding the moment Will Smith stopped being cool.

One New York Times best-selling book about rap later, the father of three has another on the way this October. That’s another (likely) New York Times best seller,1 a book that answers important, probably never-before-asked questions about the NBA, like “What season was Michael Jordan the best version of Michael Jordan?”

While his writing portfolio is creative and weird and amazing—most of which is accompanied by incredible illustrations—and you should read as much of it as you can find, it’s what Shea and his followers on Twitter do that makes him an exceptional human being.

Shea calls his followers the FOH Army. What does FOH stand for? In his own words:

the FOH ARMY = the Fuck Outta Here Army — i don't remember who it was that gave us that name but i remember it happened when TRYB came out https://t.co/m99QfZGZbU

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) March 9, 2017

The mission of the FOH Army is simple: Spread kindness around an increasingly hostile internet, especially to people who truly deserve it. Their strikes are simple and usually unexpected, taking little more than a tweet or two from Shea to ignite a movement. Tuesday night, the group’s targets were random teachers using the platform Donors Chose to raise money for their classrooms.

BANG — 🚨🚨🚨 we need $1800 so these kids can have a fucking dope school year let's gooooooooooooo 🚨🚨🚨 https://t.co/yMIXvEtMAe

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 16, 2017

In just 13 minutes, Shea and 80 of his followers raised $1,800 for the Houston-area teacher who was hoping to provide her students with interactive learning tools. And then…

round 2 this one is less than $400 this shit is about to be too easy https://t.co/Rx1r0qvqmI

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 16, 2017

$400 to help a seventh-grade teacher build a flexible-learning-space classroom for her students, which Shea helped to raise in 10 minutes. And then…

https://twitter.com/SheaSerrano/status/897673164754432004

It took Shea and the FOH six minutes (six!) to raise the $1,000 requested by a high-school music teacher for basic school supplies his students desperately need. Why? Because, according to Shea, the news on Tuesday sucked and he was bored. Why not spread a little love around?

Last Christmas, after three days and 15 hours of flights and connections, Shea lost his car at the Houston airport. A parking employee, a sympathetic woman named Radelle, drove him around for over an hour, helping him look. After they found his car, Shea realized he had no cash to tip her—but Radelle didn’t mind. She was excited about the upcoming holidays and happy to help. He asked for her email address and promised he’d thank her later.

Shea got home, took to Twitter, and recounted the tale, ending the thread of tweets by saying he’d love to do something nice for Radelle and her two daughters. He set up a PayPal account and, within days, raised $2,700 to tip her—adding in his own $300 to “get to a clean $3,000.” Shea delivered it in person four days before Christmas.

bang — pic.twitter.com/Nz6Ds8uuV5

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) December 21, 2016

Of course, Shea Serrano is not the only person practicing random acts of kindness or trying to make the internet a nicer place to be. But I can’t imagine there’s anyone doing it quite like him. His efforts are as genuine as they are random, and as heartfelt as he is hilarious. Shea simply wants to do nice things for nice people, and to borrow a phrase, I think that’s pretty dope.  If you don’t already follow Shea on Twitter, for the love of God, what are you waiting for? Do it now, thank me later, and consider joining the FOH in the meantime. You never know when they’ll strike next…

idk bro these things just pop up whenever and if the universe puts that feeling in my heart then i roll with it https://t.co/mFMXUnDlES

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 16, 2017

…and you certainly wouldn’t want to miss it.

1. Ed. Note: It’s been on a variety of top seller lists while only being in its pre-order state.

Hiya, Cleveland.

Three weeks ago, the last time I occupied this space, I told you guys about The Ringer staff writer Shea Serrano, and all of the good he and his followers (affectionately known as the “FOH Army”) do on Twitter.

Shea was gracious enough to tweet the article, and shortly after, Ringer head-honcho Bill Simmons did the same—sharing it with his 6 million followers. You guys know the rest… countless people clicked to read about Shea, our server crashed and then Crain’s wrote about it. In the true spirit of the generosity he inspires, Shea (and Bill) had helped get my article in front of more eyes than I ever thought possible. I thought that was, likely, the end of it.

And then Hurricane Harvey happened.

Dumping nearly 19 trillion gallons of water on the Lone Star State, Harvey impacted millions of Texans in matter of days. Nineteen trillion gallons. It’s so big, it doesn’t even sound real. It sounds like a made-up measurement a little kid would say on his way to “infinity times a million!” doesn’t it? For perspective, 19 trillion gallons of water would cover all of Cleveland with water higher than Key Tower. It would also fill 9,000 FirstEnergy Stadiums.

One of those Texans impacted by Harvey was none other than Shea Serrano, who lives in Houston with his wife and three children. On August 23, as Harvey was moving in and gaining strength, Shea was in LA with The Ringer. He changed his flight back to Texas, landed in San Antonio instead and met up with his family, who had driven 200 miles to flee the storm. There, they’d wait out the rising water, and in the midst of the storm, Shea paused to write about the experience.

It’s a strange feeling to be so mentally connected to a place (our children were born in Houston, our home is in Houston, our friends are in Houston, Larami’s family is in Houston, our lives are in Houston) while also being totally physically disconnected from it. We have watched everything unfold as it’s happened via Facebook and Twitter and various news outlets. We have watched our friends’ homes get destroyed. We have watched our neighborhood, always a flood risk, get turned into the ugliest swamp. We have watched lives get turned upside down, and lives get lost. It’s awful and devastating, absolutely, but it also makes us ask, “Is this really real? Is this really happening?”

It wasn’t long before Shea turned to his faithful FOH, as he had so many times before, with a simple but expansive plan: Let’s raise money to help people displaced/impacted/devastated by Hurricane Harvey.

we need a corporate homie to come through and match whatever donation The FOH can put together

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 31, 2017

Shea opened up his PayPal and Venmo accounts, and the donations started pouring in. $2,000 in 10 minutes. $13,000 in 30. Shea’s followers were so ready and willing to help, they had raised more than $33,000 before anyone asked where the money was going.

this is such a funny question to get AFTER people have sent in over $33,000 hahaha https://t.co/HppeNHyXuv

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 31, 2017

For the record, Shea assured the FOH funds would benefit charity organizations in and around Houston.

at the moment it stands for Fuck Off Harvey https://t.co/VM6WjwMRVl

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) August 31, 2017

The FOH continued to show up—reaching a six-figure fundraising total in four-and-a-half hours—and it didn’t stop there.

this is what it looks like and sounds like lol it's been doing this for three hours pic.twitter.com/PuXv76NdKe

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) September 1, 2017

By the time Shea stopped accepting donations the next morning, the FOH had raised $134,000 to help those people whose lives had been dismantled by Hurricane Harvey.

if you know of good charities in any of the cities Harvey crushed pls send them my way we have $134,000 to give out (lol this shit is crazy)

— Shea Serrano (@SheaSerrano) September 1, 2017

I reached out to Shea to ask him how it felt.

“I feel overwhelmingly proud,” he told me via email. “It was a remarkable showing of trust and compassion, really.”

You’re the driving force behind an incredibly powerful movement for good, I told him. How does that feel?

“I would never describe myself as such. I’m just a boy… standing in front of a group of strangers on the internet… asking them to love him.”

I think it’s safe to say the internet does, in fact, love him. Beyond his followers and the FOH and the countless articles being written to share the news of nice people doing nice things for people who deserve it, there’s a guy who uses his notoriety for good. You’ll notice Shea never makes the biggest donation in the batch—but that’s not what it’s about. It’s about bringing people together who want to help, and about being the kind of guy those people trust, simply because they know they can.

What’s next for the FOH? I was curious, too, so I asked Shea. His response was… perfectly on brand.

“Petty shit, I’m sure,” he said. “We have to balance out the scales. We’ve been doing too much good shit lately.”