CLEVELAND, Ohio — On July 8, the Guardians sat buried, 15 ½ games behind Detroit in the American League Central, their season written off before the dog days had even arrived. The standings said it was over. Logic said it was over. But in the upper decks and along the baselines at Progressive Field, there were still specks of stubborn faith.
Fans in navy and red who refused to let go, who clung to something invisible even as doubt slowly crept into the clubhouse itself.
By the end of the regular season, that attendance number reached 2,510,360. It is the first time Cleveland has drawn 2 million fans in consecutive years since 2007 and 2008.
From that faith came a miracle. From that murmur of belief came the champagne of Sept. 28, when Cleveland stormed back to complete the largest divisional comeback in baseball history.
But before the corks, there was a whisper of “if.” Before the celebration, there were more than 30,000 voices pounding the concrete, echoing through the concourse, crashing like thunder across the skyline. And then the chaos on the field.
The noise. The smell. The energy. It isn’t just October baseball. It’s October in Cleveland.
“We wanted to do it for the fans,” Austin Hedges said after Sunday’s 9-8 walk-off win. “All these fans have been showing up all year, another 2 million [this year]. For them to come out, they deserve to see us truly win the division and no one’s surprised in here with how we did it. … Now we get to go shock the world like we’ve done all season.”
The Guardians closed their regular season with back-to-back walk-off wins. A hit-by-pitch on Saturday, outdone by a Brayan Rocchio three-run homer on Sunday in Game 162.
The crowd responded like a city reborn. Fans screamed until their throats ached.
On Saturday, thousands stayed long after the final out, chanting through the fireworks and then erupting again when the players, soaked in champagne, emerged from the clubhouse to thank them.
On Sunday, fewer lingered, but the atmosphere never dulled. The champagne may have been sticky and stinging in players’ eyes, but the electricity still buzzed. Even when the stands emptied, the feeling in the air remained: the Guardians weren’t alone in this. They never are.
That’s why clinching the division and securing home field for the wild card series meant more than just logistics. It was about staying in the comfort of a city that feeds them.
“It’s huge to get in, and now we get to play in front of our awesome fans here in Cleveland,” manager Stephen Vogt said. “That’s what we wanted. That’s why today mattered. We want to play at home. We get so much energy from our amazing fans. They showed out this home stand. I can’t thank them enough for that. I know it’s school nights, I know it’s work nights, but they showed up. They supported us. I know today was a football day, but we still had an amazing crowd today.”
Both Hedges and Vogt have been in enough playoff clubhouses to know the difference between baseball in September and baseball in October. But they also know the difference is even greater when the support and noise are coming from Guardians fans.
“Our atmosphere is, this is the best playoff environment I’ve ever been in,” Hedges said. “So to be able to do it in front of our home crowd against the division rival, it’s good. This place is going to be electric, and I can’t wait to see everybody on Tuesday.”
More Guardians coverage
What Stephen Vogt said after the Guardians clinched their 13th AL Central title: Transcript
AL Central belongs to the Guardians, who celebrate with a 9-8 walk-off win over Rangers in 10 innings
Point proven in the Central, Guardians welcome Tigers to the wild card fight
The city of Cleveland and the Guardians need each other. They always have.
From the battles of the 1990s to the improbably scrappy runs of the mid-2010s, Cleveland has carried its teams through October on decibels alone. In those moments, opponents sometimes falter, unable to handle the noise, the pressure, the endless standing ovations. But the Guardians? They thrive.
“This last week of games,” Hedges said, “it felt like playing baseball. It has, and the cool thing is it’s felt like playoff baseball, but it still doesn’t come close to what this fan group can do actually in the playoffs. The noise they’re about to make. I keep telling some of these rookies. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
That’s the secret weapon — the “yet.”
The young players don’t know what’s about to hit them, and the visitors rarely do either. It’s not just volume; it’s the sustained belief, the sense that the city and team are pulling in unison.
That’s the paradox of October: the margin for error shrinks, but the emotional fuel grows.
A home crowd can tilt an inning, a pitch, a swing. It can steady a rookie’s hands or rattle a veteran on the other side. For the Guardians, who have defied projections all season long, that edge means more.
When asked how far this team could go, Hedges didn’t hesitate.
“World Series,” he said. “That’s always been the goal. I mean, we just won this division. Everyone [was] counting us out. I’m sure a lot of people aren’t counting us in the playoffs, but we’ll go shock ‘em there too.”
Shock the world. But not Cleveland. Not the fans who have been waiting, stomping, chanting, hoping. The city believes because it knows — October in Cleveland has a sound. And starting Tuesday night, everyone else will hear it.