After I glanced at the upcoming schedule and realized the Tigers would soon be out of town for quite a stretch, and then when they get back I'll be out of town, I knew I had no choice but to head to the park Tuesday night. I knew it was searingly hot, but I told you, it wasn't a matter of choosing. I had to go. It happens. There are nights when you just know that you must be at the ballpark. At least I do.
Besides, it was Verlander Day! A holiday every five days! Who can resist its magic? Not me. The matchup with Lance Lynn promised to be a battle of the arms, a low scoring affair going down to the la.....wait a minute. That pitcher's duel, hmmmm, what happened to Mr. Lynn? Well, he didn't have pinpoint control and our boys pounced. YAY RUNZ! WE NOT SCORE JUST ONE! I MIGHT PUNCTUATE THE REMAINDER OF THIS POST SOLELY WITH EXCLAMATION POINTS! Sorry.
As is the way with such things, the festival that is Verlander Day was not unmarred by various irritants. The heat withered at first, and the sun threatened to give all of us in left field epic migraines. Once the orb dropped below the outfield stands, relief came quickly.
Justin got a little wild in the seventh and Quintin Berry followed with a 2 run error on a playable fly ball. Ahem. JV had to pitch all angrified, scorching pitches in there at 100 mph to extract the boys from the inning without further damage.
Then, in the bottom half of the inning, the Tigers are batting, and the bases are loaded. I see a group of Girl Scouts descend the aisle staircase with their leader. I figured she was arranging them for a photo. To my absolute horror, the troop proceeds to implore the section to begin the wave. IN THE SEVENTH INNING. BASES JUICED WITH TIGERS. I JUST....I RESTRAINED THE DESIRE TO RIP THEIR SASHES OFF AND POINT TO THE EXIT. Now, I totally get the idea that it would be fun for a group of young girls to lead the crowd in starting the wave. I have no issue with this. Eight year olds can enjoy the wave with impunity. But, could the leader have used a milligram of brainpower to orchestrate this activity at a non-critical juncture?
I don't want to be that surly, glowering fan that is annoyed by every person around me. Just stay at home if all of humankind is a bane to your existence. However, there seems to be no escaping the ignorant, sloshy fans who could care less about what's happening on the diamond. Many sighs. I will use these trials to increase my fortitude, to endure in the face of unrelenting stupidity, to overcome boorish behavior by "fans" who leave their seats in the middle of every half inning, oblivious to everything but beer and ball park snacks. These people make it possible for us to sign Prince Fielder. I repeat that to myself over and over. Maybe someday I'll believe it.
In the end, it was still a great night for baseball. We won the game, vanquished the stupid Cards (who should be our chief inter-league rival, since we face off against them in the World Series all the time) yay team, rah rah, etc. The question to be answered is how will we all survive this next road trip? /Pouts.