The last time the Tigers had a nine game winning streak, the year was 1984.
Cue the shivers and some eerily prescient music. I mean, if that's not a sign from the ghost of baseball's past, I don't know what is.
Also, I am feeling an odd form of torture as well, because I have been saving all my ducats for the possible chance to attend a game that is played after all the regular season games have been played. Therefore, I haven't been to a game since August 2, and I have the shakes pretty badly. It's taken me about an hour and a half just to type up this drivel.
I cannot believe I am about to admit this to you, but I when I heard that the Red Cross was having a promotion on Labor Day weekend in which they gave away a pair of tickets to the last regular season series to anyone who donated blood, I jumped all over it in a moment of unmitigated selfishness. Very sheepishly, I went through the questionnaire, and sat in the vinyl chair gently squeezing the bolster as a pint of my blood slowly left my body. Dirty tickets. I scored 'em though. They're stowed in my game day bag right now. Contaminating it. I don't feel guilty enough not to use them. I am thoroughly corrupt.
Enjoy the afterglow of Fister's latest performance on the mound, ladies and gentleman, and please, for the love of cleats and stitched leather spheres, don't defile yourself like I did.