Already, this is quite a season for Cory Snyder.
In the opening two months of the year, he's already survived a long batting slump, excitedly watched "Major League" and found the Cleveland Indians trailing Baltimore, of all people, in the American League East.This was also the spring when Snyder found himself smack dab in the middle of the Great Mustard Controversy.
In the Midwest, where hot sauce is what goes on hot dogs, they take their mustard seriously. The family-owned company that produces and markets the official brown, spicy Stadium mustard lost the Municipal Stadium concessions contract to another, more plain mustard.
Which was just fine with Snyder.
When choosy Indians were asked to join in a taste test, Snyder was a natural selection for the panel, apparently based on his dining experience with BYU Food Service.
In a risky move, Snyder went with the new mustard.
"I knew right away after the taste test which was the best," he smiled Friday. "I don't like mustard that's hot and spicy. I like the regular, yellow mustard."
That's a Californian for you. The real Clevelanders liked the old stuff way better. "The people here made a big deal out of it," says Snyder.
Just like they do with the Indians' troubles. For the Tribe, it's always something. After years of pitching troubles, the Indians now have a decent staff - but the hitters are slumping.
"The fans are very critical of the Indians," says Snyder. "They haven't had a winner here in so long."
That could change this season. Even while taking a 28-29 record into this weekend's series with Seattle, the Tribe was in second place, only four games behind the Orioles in the East. Then again, they were 36-21 at this time last season before falling out of the race.
That's where "Major League" comes into play. Watching the make-believe Indians - and Snyder does look just a little like Corbin Bernsen, doesn't he? - made him visualize what would happen if the real Tribe were involved in a pennant race.
"You could see how exciting it would be," Snyder said, sitting in the dugout and surveying all the empty seats in the huge stadium. "This would be a great year to get it started."
If Baltimore fades, the Indians will join New York, Boston and Milwaukee in the race. The Indians lost four of seven games to the Orioles in a 10-day stretch in late May, and will have to wait until late August for another shot at them.
By then, anything could happen.
Snyder would settle for a little consistency for the next few months, while trying to shake off a back injury and keep fighting his way out the slump that has bothered almost the whole team. After a good start, Snyder hit .181 for a five-week stretch before showing good signs on a California swing that ended Wednesday, raising his average to .245.
After overcoming a very frustrating 1987 with a steady '88, Snyder is handling the bad days better.
"Nobody wants to get in a slump, but it's inevitable," he says. "You can be off a quarter of an inch - and be in a slump. It's all part of the game."
Try telling that to Cleveland people. The fans - and the media, to hear Snyder's version - analyze baseball as closely and discriminately as they do mustard.
No doubt, Snyder would probably appreciate a little backing on the mustard issue at this point. In the interest of journalistic enterprise, I drove down I-75 from suburban Detroit, took a left at Toledo - the Mud Hens were out of town - and headed down the Ohio Turnpike right to Rini's grocery store. With a 79-cent jar of Stadium mustard in hand, I entered Municipal Stadium and performed my own taste on a jumbo hot dog. Half with the old, half with the new.
Snyder was right.
Now, about that mean media . . .
"It gets to the point where you would almost rather play on the road," he noted. "On the road, they boo you anyway, so it doesn't matter."
No wonder he liked "Major League" so much. In September, either the Tribe will be in the race and turn on the town, or give everybody just another losing season to complain about - besides the new mustard.