Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

Santa baby, slip a player under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa baby, a batting practice jersey too, dark blue
I'll wait up for you dear
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the Tigers that I haven't kissed
Next year I could be oh so good
If you'd check off my Christmas list
Boo doo bee doo

Santa honey, I wanna roster spot and really that's
Not a lot
I've been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To the CoPa
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Santa baby, fill my stocking with season tickets,
Sign your 'X' on the line
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Come and bring me Magglio

live and in the flesh, oh
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me
Boo doo bee doo

Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a (World Series) ring
I don't mean on the phone
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Hurry down the chimney tonight
Hurry down the chimney tonight

Forget Jerry Maguire, It's My "Free Fallin'" Moment Now

Cue the seraphim and cherubim, angelic choirs singing rapturously, and an old, awkward white lady trying to do the dougie. You know why I'm giddy. Magglio Ordóñez has reportedly signed a one year, $10-million dollar deal to remain in the Old English D.

DID YOUR HEAR ME????

VIVA MAGGLIO ORDÓÑEZ!

Ok. Everyone may not feel as, hem, joyous as I do about this, but most will agree that Magglio was one of the best free-agent options left on the market.

We no longer have to ponder right field options such as Don Kelly and Willie Bloomquist. No more weeping and gnashing of teeth. Sorry. Was I the only one doing that?

Seriously though, we really needed our hero's bat. Desperately. We don't want to see Miguel Cabrera batting with as much protection as me stepping to the plate with a plastic fungo bat ever again.

I leave you to imagine my ecstatic warblings.

What If the Unthinkable Happens?

Well, by now you've heard that many teams, among them Boston, Texas and Philadelphia, are interested in the services of our free-agent rightfielder Magglio Ordóñez. Our hero worked out for teams today, and the Tigers were in attendance. No word on how that workout was received by onlookers. No tweets from Jason Beck on this, other than to say that he wasn't invited to view the workout.

So, if some other team (gasp) snags Ordóñez, and it turns out that we're priced out of the Carl Crawford sweepstakes, who else should the Tigers pursue?

Here are a few names and stat lines for your perusal. Stats via Fangraphs and Baseball-Reference.

Bill Hall

2010 batting

.247/.316/.456/.772

18HR, 46 RBI, 9 SB

Fielding, 2006-2010, outfield

UZR -.5

Jose Guillen

2010 batting

.258/.314/.416/.772

19HR, 77 RBI, 1 SB

Fielding, 2010, outfield

UZR 1.9

Willie Bloomquist

2009 Batting (played in 83 games in 2010)

.265/.308/.355/.663

4 HR, 29 RBI, 25 SB

Fielding, 2009, outfield

UZR -1.4

Find anything to your liking, or do you have a favorite candidate?? Please share.

As for me, I'm still foolishly hoping we snatch Magglio from the claws of these other teams. But really, in looking at other options, I'm gonna have to ahead and say that we had darn well better sign Ordóñez or Crawford. Otherwise, why did we go out there and get Benoit and Martinez? We need to add a quality bat. Period.

Haikus To Warm a Winter's Night

winter solstice looms

dormant ballfields quiet sit

as I look for spring

jackson rookie jilt

miggy held in low esteem

'mando imperfect

always a tiger

magglio should here remain

scott notwithstanding

shirts for david d

plentiful stripes and sailboats

lead to many laughs

I'm sorry. This is what you get when there's no baseball.

There's No Whining in Baseball?

I realize this post will classify me as a first class cry-baby, but I'm sorry, it can't be helped. I know that most people are all gaga over the Hot Stove, free agent frenzy, blah, blah, blah. Of course, the whole process is captivating, but does it hold a candle to actual baseball being played? I'm gonna have to shout a resounding 'No' from the top of a ten story building. It's only November. Pitchers and catchers don't report until February 13. May I kindly ask what I am supposed to do until then? I may have to break down and attend Tiger Fest in January. I'll be desperate by then.

I recognize that I'm annoying you beyond all reason, and come off as a pathetic, sniveling loser. I know that this is a horrible way to keep readers. I must apologize, and I do. Sincerely. I offer to you a genuine "I'm sorry." But don't you find yourself just pining, yearning, longing for some baseball? Doesn't seeing the CoPa shuttered, the diamond tarped over, the grass going dormant, just make you feel like Ndamukong Suh's muscled fist grabbed your heart and squeezed as hard as it could?

I even missed the AFL championship, because I had a stinking eye exam. Is there any justice in the world? That was probably my last shot at live baseball for the next twelve weeks. Again with the whining. I know.

If I had MLB network, there would be some pretty cool archival baseball watching in store, but do I have MLB Network? Nooooooooooooooooooooo, indeed not. Excuse me while I go write a nasty-gram to my cable provider.

Do you think that lame movies, or even good movies, or even great baseball movies make a nominal substitute for our nation's past time? No. They don't.

I've already endured the devastation of Austin Jackson losing out on Rookie of the Year. I'm still a mite bitter about the empty spot on Jackson's mantle. Now I find myself guarding my heart against Cabrera getting the snub for MVP. Today, the Freep gave us the cheery news that a Tigers hitter hasn't won the MVP since 1940, when Hank Greenburg brought home his second MVP. Sigh.

You can depend on me for countless uplifting posts like this one throughout the off-season.

Who Stuffed the Ballot Box?

I am sorry, but is there anyone else out there that feels our poor boy got the shaft in this whole Rookie of the Year voting process? I know I may be biased, but really now, REALLY NOW, I believe that Austin Jackson should be bringing home some hardware today. Neftali Feliz was brilliant. No question. I give him all proper credit for a spectacular season.

However, Austin Jackson was in some rarified air. He joins only three other rookies EVER to accomplish the following:

180 hits, 100 runs, 30 doubles, 10 triples, and 25 stolen bases

The other three blokes?

Hanley Ramirez, Juan Samuel, and Shoeless Joe Jackson

That's not enough for Rookie of the Year for sobbing out loud?

Apparently that effort was good for only eight first place votes. Puh-leeze tell me this is a crazed nightmare and I will soon awake in a cold sweat. Eight out of 28 first place votes? Did the esteemed BBWAA writers watch Young Jackson in action at all this season? Did they not see at least twelve catches in which it at first appeared that there was no chance at all that Jackson would catch up to the ball? He hauled it in each and every time. He saved a Perfect Game. He made countless over the shoulder catches. He hit the ball. Well.

Ok. I'm done whining. I apologize, but my feelings were just a mite wounded this afternoon around two o'clock.

Idle Hands...

What in the name of balls and strikes does a baseball freak do with the mind-numbing down time during the off-season? You take three-plus hours out of every day, and there's a mighty big chasm to fill. Well, I don't know about other people, but I am stuck doing things like knitting scarves, watching the World Series of Poker, and baking a thousand batches of chocolate chip cookies. Does that sound like a life to you?

My mantra is simple. Life without baseball is hard.

Now, we've got to sit by as the Yankee brass goes down to Arkansas to meet with Cliff Lee. Wooing him. Wowing him with wheelbarrows awash with cash. Whacking him over the head with propaganda about what it means to "Be a Yankee." To wear the pinstripes. To be clean-shaven. Excuse me a moment while I go clean up the vomit I just induced.

OK. I am back. There are a few remaining chunks on my shirt, but luckily for you I'm not downloading photos of it to this post.

Hopefully things will pick up soon. We'll get news that Dave Dombrowski and his suitcase full of sailboat sweaters have spirited off to who knows where to negotiate with some top tier free agent. Yes. It will happen. Then the dark days won't seem so long.