For a sport whose fan base is supposed to be made up of exclusively old white guys, there sure are a lot of 20-somethings flooding into Jacobs (Progressive) Field every night. It seems that all the major sports networks and talking heads tell the world that baseball is dying; its biggest supporters in a very literal sense. But take a walk through the Jake, look around, there sure are a lot of people there who are more likely to be living at their parents’ home than a nursing home.

So why is it different here than other cities? I’m glad you asked. I have a theory.

Thanks to the Indians, we were one of the few generations of Clevelanders who grew up watching the city succeed in sports. Our first Cleveland sports experiences were the mid to late 90s Tribe. The Browns had been moved to Baltimore, and we weren’t quite old enough for that to truly hurt like it did for most fans. Plus, we had the added bonus of not having to watch them lose week in and week out. The Cavs were a middling team that you did not expect much from so those losses didn’t really hurt either. The Indians were really all we had, and for the most part, they hurt everyone else instead of us.

We remember the happy times, just as much as, if not more than, the pain. We are different in that sense. Some of my favorite memories as a child are sitting in the seats we always bought on the first base side of the infield, glove on my hand, ready for a foul ball to head our way, watching the greatest Cleveland teams of my lifetime.

We saw more wins than losses, a rarity for most Cleveland sports fans. We grew up on 455 consecutive sellouts, on a line-up that you could have plugged directly into the starting American League All-Star Game batting order most years. We watched the Indians win 5 straight Central Division titles between 1995 and 1999. We remember having Cleveland Indians Day what seemed like once a week in elementary school.

Here is where I will acknowledge that I am sure I am not the only one who, after a few too many glasses of bourbon, has re-watched the 9th Inning of Game 7 of the 1997 World Series and promised to punch José Mesa and/or Tony Fernandez square in the face if they ever stepped foot inside the boundaries of the 216 area code ever again. Okay, with that out of the way, now back to the happy stuff.

My parents love to tell the story of how I cried one Christmas because Santa brought me a Carlos Baerga shirt instead of an Omar Vizquel one. Those were some First World 90s Indians Fan Kid Problems right there: having too many superstars to root for.

We all wore our baseball pants up, socks high, because that’s what Thome did. We spent hours in the backyard practicing our barehanded stops and jump throws because that’s what Omar did. Much to our coaches’ dismay, we would slide headfirst into 1st because that’s what Kenny did. When it came time to pick numbers in little league good luck getting 7, 13, or 25 if you weren’t the first to choose.

But this Indians team reminds us so much of those 90s teams we loved, it brings us back to the good times. The best part? The soundtrack is the same. Tom Hamilton is still the voice of the Tribe. As a kid I would fall asleep to the Indians game on the radio. His voice is still a reminder to me of childhood innocence. And I don’t think I’ll ever not get chills at the sound of “SWUNG ON AND BELTED” or my personal favorite: “We are live at the corner of Carnegie and Ontario.” The corner of Carnegie and Ontario is where our childhood heroes lived, and where a new crop of them is emerging.

Francisco Lindor is our new Omar: running around making plays without a glove, full of smiles and a love for the game that we haven’t seen around here in awhile. Jason Kipnis is our Carlos Baerga, not quite as graceful as Omar/Lindor, but makes every attempt to be, and always comes up with a big hit when it’s needed most. Mike Napoli is some combination of the best of Manny and Belle hitting moonshots into the bleachers with a little swagger. We even have another Ramirez.

The 1995 Indians walked it off an astounding 27 times. So far, the Indians have 9 walk-off wins this year. For many of us, that 1995 team will forever be our favorite team of all time; the 2016 Tribe is reminding us of that, of them. Whether it is Naquin, Santana, or Chisenhall, this team always gives you hope that a comeback is possible.

But here is the important difference: we never, ever had a pitching staff like we do now. I am not sure if the league has ever seen a staff this good.

Mike Hargrove once gave an interview where he talked about having to choose between Jaret Wright and Charlie Nagy to start Game 7 of the 1997 World Series. I have no idea how Terry Francona will be able to decide between not 2 but 3 or 4 legitimate Game 7 options. I’ll say this: I would not want to be Joe Maddon arriving to the visitor’s locker room on November 2nd, cold Lake Erie wind against his face, wondering whether the name Kluber, Salazar, Carrasco, or Bauer was on Tito’s lineup card to throw out the last first pitch of the season.

After the Cavs won it all LeBron promised the biggest party the city has ever seen, and he delivered, 1.3 million visitors flooded downtown. If the Indians actually pull this off, I promise a bigger party. I hope Napoli’s house is big enough.