[RebelYell]

Swept Out of Seattle
Indians' losing streak reaches five in a row
SEATTLE -- Scott Atchison paid attention over the last two days.

Atchison limited Cleveland to six hits during seven-plus innings and the Seattle Mariners completed a three-game sweep of the Indians with a 5-1 victory Wednesday evening.

Atchison walked two and struck out five, allowing only a sacrifice fly by Ronnie Belliard.

That fly was enough, however, to keep Cleveland on top until the sixth. Kevin Millwood, sharp through five, suffered a sixth-inning implosion that was helped along by Ichiro Suzuki's tie-breaking double and Jeremy Reed's two-run single.

Shigetoshi Hasegawa came on in the eighth and pitched a flawless ninth to earn his first save.

"We didn't want a loss hanging over our heads on the trip back home," Cleveland manager Bobby Don Southworth said. "A sweep, though, that goes without saying. We really wanted to pull out all the stops to keep that from happening."

Southworth took some of the blame for not having relief ready for Millwood when he needed it.
"He was just breezing along and then 'poof,'" Southworth said. "His pitch count was fine, but by the time he got out of the sixth, it was too late.
"And we still didn't have anybody ready to go."

The Indians will face their stiffest AL Central challenger this weekend when Detroit comes to Jacobs Field. The Tigers have trimmed the Tribe's lead down to three games.

"They can overtake us if we keep playing like this," Southworth said. "Just not enough run production. We've got to get the bats going."

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After the game, I was miserable.
Losing happens in baseball. You learn to accept it.

What makes it hard is knowing your next chance to prove yourself is more than a day -- and a 2,000-mile plane ride -- away.

I had a plan, though.
I went back to the hotel, went down the east-side stairs and headed for the pool hall. Sure, I was going to return to the hotel with smoke-stinky clothes, but I was going to burn off some steam.

No better way to do that than to play some pool.

Better yet, this hall -- a nice-sized old bar with nine tables -- had snooker tables. If you're ever going to shoot pool, learn how to play some snooker. The balls and pockets are smaller and the table is longer. After about an hour of playing, the pool balls resemble cantaloupes rolling into laundry baskets.

I lost all track of time playing pool. Found a guy killing time just like me and we played for a couple of hours. All I knew was that I had downed six beverages. That usually works out to four hours for me. Turns out it was five hours and I had made it to the last call.

I paid my tab and headed back to the hotel. It was just a three-block walk. I went in through the east stairwell, the same way I left and the one I had found was lesser used. The west stairs took you right to the front desk.

I made it up to my room and was still feeling restless. "Perry Mason" on cable wasn't going to be the tranquilizer I'd often found it to be.

I needed to go do something else. Suddenly, I realized that I might be looking at an all-nighter with departure for the airport scheduled for 7 a.m.

So be it.

I stepped quietly into the hallway and checked up and down for any sign of people. Nobody.
There's no curfew tonight. Just make sure you're on the plane is all I asked of the coaches and players.

It's quiet, though. All quiet as I head for the west end of the hotel.

And then I turn around and go back to my room. Forgot something.

I grabbed my headphones. They were still blaring. Great batteries trump my bad memory for turning the thing off.

Thought I ran into you down on the street
Then it turned out to only be a dream
I made a point to burn all of the photographs
She went away and then I took a different path

I began bounding down the stairs, counting them along the way. I know there were 230 of them, but I counted anyway.

I can remember the face but I can't recall the name
Now I wonder how ###whatshername### has been
Seems that she disappeared without a trace ...

I get to the fourth floor and stop suddenly. In the corner near the door is a baseball bat. It's one of the team's bats. The very bat I would have used if I were still playing. Perfect weight, good length.

Out of habit, I grab it and continue on my trek toward the lobby.
Why am I even going to the lobby?
I just want to see another human being. Share with them the same sleepless misery I'm suffering through tonight.

Third floor ...

Now I wonder how ###whatshername### has been
Remember, whatever ...

And then I stop stone cold as I turn to go down the next-to-last set of stairs.
There she is.

It's the girl I saw in the room with a few of my players. Who was it in there with her? Grady, Bruce and one other guy. Travis?
No. Ludwick.
Yeah, Ryan Ludwick.

But nevermind that. It's the girl.
Same twirled hair resting on the same multi-colored sweater. She's wearing the same sweater she had on when I saw her two days ago. It's yellow and orange and either navy or black. Eight horizontal stripes in alternating fashion up and down her front and back.

And there's the tattoo. It's the same group of thorns wrapped tightly around her ankle.
Her left ankle.
And I just stare at her.