When a report Wednesday indicated the Indians would decrease the presence of "Chief Wahoo" on jerseys, my first thought as a Cleveland native was "finally."
Thursday it turned out the report the team was swapping out a cap featuring the controversial caricature for a block "C" cap in 2017 wasn't accurate.
We should have known.
In April, team owner Paul Dolan said the team had "no plans to get rid of Chief Wahoo (because) it's part of our history and legacy."
Sure enough, at the World Series against the Cubs, the image was front and center. And so were red-face painted, headdress-wearing fans in appropriated gear.
I've been guilty.
As a young girl in Northern Ohio, an annual trip into Cleveland to Municipal Stadium _ and later Jacobs Field _ for a baseball game was our family's summer treat. Often, I wore a T-shirt with "Chief Wahoo" on it. A worn cap with the same mascot traveled to college with me.
It wasn't that I was thinking about perpetuating racist imagery depicting Native Americans in the most stereotypical and demeaning way. It was that I wasn't thinking about it.
I'm embarrassed that it took so long to get rid of Chief Wahoo items I owned. I'm now embarrassed for Cleveland fans who cling to this image.
During the American League Championship Series, an indigenous activist sought a court ruling to ban the team from wearing the Chief Wahoo jerseys, but a judge denied the request. For decades, groups of Native Americans have protested the use of the name and logo.
As we've seen at the University of Illinois with the fierce fandom for the banned Chief Illiniwek mascot or with the NFL's Redskins, loyal fans do not surrender these things easily.
"The answer is: Native American people say it's offensive," said Illinois media and cinema studies professor Jay Rosenstein, who produced the documentary "In Whose Honor?" on the subject in 1997. "That should be good enough. If you're not a Native (American) person you can't understand what it's like for them. You can either empathize or you can't."
During the World Series, my Facebook feed was filled with Ohioans I know wearing Chief Wahoo. Past discussions reminded me the argument for keeping the logo: Tradition.
"Tradition is important," Rosenstein said. "But when you examine all kinds of other (sports) traditions, fans are willing to give those up. This is the one they're not willing to compromise on. At Illinois, a perfect example, nobody cares that Assembly Hall suddenly has a new name. But to get rid of Chief Illiniwek, 'It's tradition; we can't change.' "
Major League Baseball's hands-off approach to Chief Wahoo is interesting especially given the new rules of the CBA's no-hazing policy that prohibits players from "dressing up as women or wearing costumes that may be offensive to individuals based on their race, sex, nationality, age, sexual orientation, gender identity or other characteristic." Chief Wahoo seems to do just that.
Imagine an expansion MLB team adopting a stereotypical image of a black person or Jewish person or woman as the mascot.
It's hard to know to whom the Indians are trying to appeal. Progressive Field averaged 19,650 fans in its 35,000-seat stadium. They have ranked near the bottom of the league in attendance figures since 2010.
Would they really lose more fans if they abandoned the logo? Rosenstein pointed to studies that show sales don't dip in the long-term when a team changes mascots.
Like Rosenstein, I was dismayed that as the nation followed the protests over the Dakota Pipeline _ and many seemed to empathize with the protesters' plight _ there was an inability to connect the dots to the dehumanizing effects of racist mascots like Chief Wahoo.
We all should be uncomfortable with the continued use of the mascot Cleveland wears. But we also should be demanding the team finally move on.
