A Walk Off and White Out

It's almost like there's no describing what happened on Sunday. I am going to annoy you and try anyway. For starters, I lied to myself and everyone else by swearing up and down that I was not going to go to any games over the weekend. This, despite the fact that my family had made a last minute decision to go out of town, leaving me behind alone and unsupervised. Apparently, I am sadly predictable and in need of Miguel Cabrera's accountability partner. By Saturday night, I surveyed the mountain of work I had to do, and decided that the best course of action would be to blow it all off and go to the game on Sunday. When I texted my husband to inform him, he replied simply, "I know." He later said that everyone he was with yukked it up at my expense over the whole situation. My resolve to get some much needed painting done had crumbled in a matter of mere hours.

In hindsight, my dead-beat slacking turned out to be the wisdom of sages, because YOU SAW THAT GAME, DIDN'T YOU? DIDN'T YOU?? Even if you didn't see it, you watched the highlights. You heard replays of Dan Dickerson's calls. You learned of the historic double comeback. You saw Miguel Cabrera erase a three-run, bottom of the 9th inning deficit with one mighty swat. You witnessed Alex Avila, a man who had caught 200 pitches over the course of 4.5 hours, club the ball to right field, and put the game in the W column.

Of course, all of this glory did not occur without a few minor irritations along the way. Nick Punto threatened to impact the game, which of course sent Tiger fans into a torrid, frothing rage. Max Scherzer pitched out of his brown eye and got shelled. Some loser blogger guy pretended that he and I attended the game together, when in reality, we passed each other on the concourse, I couldn't avoid his grotesque, oversized person bearing down on me, so I said hello out of pity, then hurriedly got lost in the crowd so he couldn't follow me back to my seat.

Small inconveniences, considering the ultimate outcome, which comes close to being the greatest game I've ever witnessed in person, playoffs and no-hitters notwithstanding. I walked out of the stadium the same way I entered it: with a goofy grin plastered across my face.

Today's pilgrimage to the CoPa was a planned event, with a good friend of mine and her boyfriend, whom I had not yet met. A glance at the radar showed a giant blotch of snow straddling Southeast Michigan. Wheeee! April baseball, bring it on! I began assembling layer after layer of clothing, winter boots, hand warmers, hats, scarves, and long underwear. It took a while, but I managed to don it all or stow it in my bag. I was unfazed by the doomsday forecast, because Desmond Howard himself had replied to a tweet of mine this morning, and it rendered my disposition unflinchingly sunny. Anyway, the lovebirds were all gallantry and sweetness, not saccharine, but just fun to be around.

I got the chance to meet up with a bunch of cool people I follow on twitter before the game, and it was really nice to put faces to avatars and hear voices instead of just reading words on my screen. Give a follow to @ashleigh_briana, @mike_is_bored and @mcintyrepatrick.

As for the game, you don't need a rundown of it. Although the wind did its best to flay the skin from our faces, and the snow assaulted us no less than five times, sometimes rather sleety, stinging as it pelted us, the crowd, paid attendance at 22,000, actual quite a bit less, but still impressive considering the wintry blast, stayed. A section near home plate began chanting "Danny" when Worth came to the plate, and it was just so stinking adorable, I had to smile.

Austin Jackson continued his tear, notching a home run, and spurring a movement to change the favorite twitter hash tag from #austinjacksonstrikesout to #austinjacksonstrikesagain. Groan. Sorry. Anyway, Papa Grande was sufficiently recovered from his illness to record an uneventful save, and the sun came out just as the game wrapped up.

4-0. Soon we'll begin talking about a challenge to 35-5. Soon. Not just yet, but I look forward to it.

While I Was Out

Um, so I go on vacation for a week, and come back to THIS:

Mi Magglio has been demoted to bench player as we have acquired horrible defender and perennial underachiever Delmon Young from the Twinks. I guess that bench player is better than released player, which was my immediate thought/fear/nightmare when I heard of the Young trade. But still, the ignominy of it just makes me want to jerk the wheel into a bridge embankment.

Brandon Inge is recalled from Toledo when Alex Avila has been playing 43,798 games in a row, and is ready to spontaneously combust this very minute, not to mention the fact that we have twenty players on the roster currently who can play third base, ONE OF WHOM WE JUST TRADED FOR!! PLEASE DAVE DOMBROWSKI AND JIM LEYLAND TELL ME WHY IN THE NAME OF BALLS AND STRIKES DID WE NOT BRING UP A CATCHER????? I know we're thin at catcher in the farm system, but until Martinez can go out there and don the gear again, we need someone. I don't care if Avila is 14 years old and made of rubber, HE CANNOT BE RUN OUT THERE EVERY DAY LIKE A DROID.

I apologize for all these caps, but how else can I show you that I am screaming....at the top of my lungs....at 1:45 am...and waking all my neighbors...and scaring the cats...and....(sorry)

Anyway, I didn't see any games for a week, well unless you count going to a Milwaukee Brewers game and seeing them turn a triple play against the Dodgers, but I don't count that. So, to come home and see the Tigers finish off a sweep of the Tribe, and to see Austin Jackson and Alex Avila cut down Fukudome to end the game and seal it, and to hear Rod Allen's throaty "OH, JACKSON," was well, let's just say it's good to be home.

Alex Avila. Early MVP Candidate

Tonight Alex Avila had a career game. He had 5 RBI, the most in his career. He STOLE A BASE. He had a home run and a double. His nomination has been filed. Just when Tigers fans were ready to start calling for Victor Martinez and his weak arm to get behind the dish, Avila steps up and says, "put the breaks on that freight train."

I jest, of course. Avila just had one good game. The first good game he's had in......a while. Do I hope he keeps this up? Um, does Justin Verlander wear his pants too tight? Do I think he will? Um, is Miguel Cabrera going to steal 40 bases this year? This is not a breakout moment for Alex. Maybe tonight will give him a little confidence boost, however, and allow him to relax and stop pressing.

Our ace had his stuff tonight, my friends. His curveball was falling off the table. I was so nervous going in, because last I read, he hadn't fully recovered from food poisoning. How could he pitch if he couldn't keep food down? Those concerns were quickly swept aside as Justin had a perfect game going into the fourth.

Victor Martinez and Miguel Cabrera went back to back tonight. Vmart kind of needed that. He hadn't been putting together the best at bats. I can confirm that it is impossible not to smile when you see back-to-back jacks. It's a physiological fact.

The other night, I nearly jinxed the game twice by smiling. I smiled first when the Puma hit his second home run of the game. I was chided for being happy, the Yanks proceeded to put runs on the board, and I vowed not to smile again until we put one in the W column. Then Austin Jackson made me lose my resolve by making an outrageous catch. I'm sorry, my mouth mutinied. When Papa Grande began to falter in the 9th, I knew it was my fault. You have my pledge that I will try to hold smiling at bay when games are in progress. Funny, I used to scoff at superstition. Now, I am a solemn adherent. Baseball's funny that way.

Will our home opener never arrive? The season seems artificial until our boys come home and christen the CoPa. Things hardly seem underway until I get to the park for my first game. Those games I've been watching on TV seem rather like elaborate video games. It's time for home whites and the Old English D.

Bring Out the Slop Trough

Today's loss was marred by play so sloppy, I had to turn my head in repulsion multiple times. Rhymes threw a ball so wild, we were left wondering whether first base was his intended target. Brad Thomas and Alex Avila looked like keystone cops after neither went after a ball hit weakly down the first base line. They stood there looking at each other like a couple of stiffs. Austin Jackson had a ball go off his glove for an error. Penny had no command, so he looked sloppy as well, and his line showed it. My overall impression of our team today? Bush league.

Mark Teixeira has hit two three-run blasts off us in two days. He can pluck my chin hairs. When he stands in the batter's box, he has an expression on his face like he's smelling rotten eggs. I guess I can't argue with results, however. Jerk.

Joe Buck and Tim McCarver are Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. Their attempts at banter were painfully unfunny. I'm as annoyed with them as I was with the ESPN crew. It's a shame that I couldn't just turn off the sound on my tv and listen to the radio, but radio feeds are not synced these days. I found myself pining so strongly for Ernie Harwell. I need to hear his voice.

To cheer you up, I share that the Twins are also 0-2, so things could be worse. To panic you, the White Sox are 2-0. We're two games out of first. Cellar dwellers. Ha.

Tomorrow, we place our fragile baseball hearts in Max Scherzer's hands. I don't know about him, but I've got a big chip on my shoulder right now. Beat the Yanks or bust.

Do I?

Do I want Vladimir Guerrero to be a member of the Tigers? I have always loved watching Vlad swing at a ball just above his shoe tops, and stroke it for a hit. I also like his no batting glove wearing, pine-tar helmet sporting look. However, I'm so ambivalent right now, because the effect of Vlad on our defense would be, um, borderline catastrophic. If we add Vlad at DH, that bumps Victor Martinez to everyday catcher. Cue the shrieks. I mean, I was really happy with the Martinez signing, but I don't want to see him behind the dish every day.

Now let's just say hypothetically, that Dombrowski decides NOT to put Martinez at catcher every day even with Vlad on the roster. Now everyone is set up for discontent. Either Guerrero or Martinez will be squeezed out of playing time, and I don't see either of them being happy with that. Some might say Vlad could play right field some days, since Magglio is now 37 years old. Uh, did you see him in right field during the playoffs this year? OK. Let us put that idea through the shredder post-haste.

I haven't mentioned Alex Avila here, but he's young enough that he can wait to be a full-time catcher. He can use more time to develop. He hasn't proven himself offensively. I feel like he'll be all right.

I don't want the defensive troubles of the 2008 team to be repeated in 2011. I don't want a roster full of guys who are chafing at their roles. Don't you remember Pudge asking to be traded, and how we got Kyle Farnsworth in return? I apologize for taking you there, but it's a necessary reality check. I shuddered as I was typing it, believe me.

I can't come to a conclusion here. My brain is conflicted and fragmented. I want Vlad. I want good defense. I want happy ball players. I want it all.

Do You Like Stale Bread?

I don't, but I'm about to force feed you some. Actually, you can stop reading this and google Lindsey Lohan's latest substance abuse saga at any time, so I guess I'm not really shoving anything down your gullet. You're here by choice. Shocking!

Last night, little Flea hit his first major league home run. It didn't have the immediate impact it should have, because it wasn't ruled a home run at first. Rhymes had to languish at third while the umpiring crew reviewed the play. When the crew chief came out and gave the signal, Rhymes flashed a grin expressive of pure delight. He got a nice high five from Damon who was on deck, but as he walked into the dugout, he was given the traditional silent treatment. He trudged sheepishly for a few steps before his teammates fairly erupted into an exuberant dogpile. I mean, their eyes lit up like they had just smacked THEIR first home runs, and they jumped and slapped Rhymes until he probably felt a little beat up (but in a good way, you know). I laughed so hard at the adorable-ness of all this, that tears spilled out of my eyes.

Not to be outdone, Alex Avila went after a pop foul that threatened to go into the Royals dugout. He reached out over the dugout fence, and was upended, going head first straight down. None other than Ned Yost himself caught Avila to prevent him from splatting his gray matter all over the concrete. I mean, who does this? Avila very well could have dropped the ball if he had fallen, so Yost may have contributed to the out. The whole thing just smeared chivalry and fatherly concern all over the place. It was priceless.

I can't tell you how much it means to get enjoyment like that out of a (meaningless) baseball game. It can be hard to finish out a season where you were in it for quite a while, and now you're just done. That stupid "E" stares you in the face whenever you look at the standings. It's sickening. But the little things from last night's game remind you why you watch. Something amazing can happen at any moment. I, for one, don't want to miss a single thing.

In the Bell Jar

We have arrived. At a horrifying place. A fourteen inning gauntlet that ends in consecutive loss number six. Johnny Damon makes a baserunning gaffe on a play that should have ended the game and winds up standing at third. Carlos Guillen then grounds into a disastrous double play to end the eleventh.

I blame the hitting in such situations. If the pitching staff has gone out and put up zeros for four innings in a row, the offense has to do its part and push one stinking run across. How could one run prove so elusive? How can the boys of summer not buckle down and get it done to put a halt to this skid?

I'm not on the ledge saying our season is over and we should sell at the trade deadline and look at next year. No. I want to fight for our season.

BUT....

We do have some gargantuan obstacles to clear. Our starting pitching has not solidified. Andrew Oliver needs more time to develop. Armando Galarraga has had one outing of brilliance and many of mediocrity. Rick Porcello has barely put Toledo in the rear view mirror. I fear that Jeremy Bonderman is an incurable head case. He constantly lets one bad pitch bleed into the next 25 pitches. You can read it in his face.

Our defense. Can we talk about defense for a minute? Only the Nationals separate us from last place on defense. I am ready to hop the fence and start leading some fielding drills, despite a complete lack of athleticism. I could show them what NOT to do, and how horrible they look when they field like me! That would shock them into doing better, I know it. Noone wants to look like me out there. Even in a backyard family game, I get mocked and derided mercilessly. I am the ultimate cautionary tale.

Aaaaaaaand let's not forget about offense. We have what can only be called several automatic outs on our squad. The names, Laird, Avila, Worth, Raburn come quickly to mind. When these gentlemen stride to the plate, it's as good as a television commercial. People can walk away from the tv without the slightest worry that anything of note will happen. Unless you count strikeout looking as something of note.

Now Brandon Inge has a broken hand and is out for the next four to six weeks. You may be aware that Brandon Inge is not my favorite player. However, he shores up a shaky defense, and has raised his average to a respectable (for him) .263. We can't really well afford to lose him right now. There are too many holes already.

In addition to all these roster issues, we have scheduling issues. We are on the road more this half, where we, um, suck. We don't face the Pirates, Nats and Orioles so much this half, and they, um, suck, which helped us pad our record. Starting with Cleveland after the break, we have eighteen games in a row with no off-day. Are you screaming yet? Have you begun cutting yourself yet? Would that be weird? I haven't done that. No, I have not. I categorically deny doing that.

With all that being said, I hope Dave Dombrowski makes some savvy moves at the trade deadline. Moves that won't eviscerate our already paltry stock of prospects. I hope he can swindle the pants off some other GM to give us a couple pieces that could put us over the top. Use the power of those horrible sailboat sweaters, Dave. They could hypnotize an unsuspecting baseball executive into giving up say Dan Haren or Ben Sheets, or Stephen Drew (who Kirk Gibson says has really bad luck, which could certainly be changed by coming over the AL). Right? RIGHT???

Carl Pavano, Evil Incarnate, and Other Irrefutable Truths

All good things must come to an end, I guess. The Tigers are no longer undefeated this year in games I've attended. This thanks to Satan's underling Carl Pavano, and the, ahem, Detroit Tigers pitching staff.

I feel all guilt-ridden and shamed because my mom, dad and sister had come in from out-of-town, don't get to go to many games, and...THIS is what they got.

Andrew Oliver--no can find strike zone.

Eddie Bonine--no can strand inherited baserunners.

Brad Thomas--gives back runs after we just scored.

You guys make me sick. Sorry. I don't mean to be shrewish when we took two of three from the Twinks, but it was just the circumstances. My poor sister dejectedly trudged down the concourse, mumbling about being bad luck. She doesn't deserve that. She's all gung ho long distance from the corn fields of Indiana. She could be rooting for the Cubs for sobbing out loud. She told her fourth grade class she was going to come up for a playoff game last fall. The little rugrats were ready to turn the classroom into a sweat shop, churning out all manner of adorable fourth grade-y posterboard signs. Oh. Yeah. We didn't make the playoffs last fall. Well then. Bitterness.

I did warn the family of Pavano's eerie dominance over the Tigers, and Oliver's, um, uneven performance in the bigs so far. It didn't really help to temper the optimism that we'd be Sunday afternoon victors, in first place at the All-Star break. Well then. Sulk.

We did see a couple of REALLY nice defensive plays, which had us jumping out of our seats and yelling ourselves hoarse. Ajax made an outrageous running, over-the-shoulder snag...never thought he'd get to that ball. Boesch must have been taking extra fielding practice, because he made a nice diving grab. Santiago flashed some leather at short. Alex Avila completed a nice strike 'em out, throw 'em out play on a Nick Punto attempt to steal. Well then. Half smile.

Once again, Inge provided us with the game-ending out. Mercifully it was not a strikeout looking, or I would have become yet another sordid baseball-security incident statistic. Hmmm. Does getting Tasered curb the appetite? I really could use a jump start to some weight loss.

Orange Birds Verboten

I'm going to have to go ahead and say NO to losing to the Orioles. I mean, I am sorry, and no disrespect intended, but this is a series we need to sweep. Today's game was spinning along just fine until Armando Galarraga stayed in one inning too long and gave up a two run shot to Nick Markakis. Markakis also caught some long fly balls in right tonight. Hmmm. Not too happy with YOU, Mr. Markakis, not too happy at all.

Now, I think that Brennan Boesch is very deserving of an All-Star nod, but the whining over the snub is now beginning to enter ad nauseum territory here. FSN keeps throwing up graphics comparing Boesch's numbers to the AL outfield reserves. No doubt, his numbers compare favorably, more than favorably. It just doesn't make sense to keep grumbling. It happened. It was wrong. Let us move on now, shall we? I recommend this as a means of preventing ulcers, migraines and all manner of nasty stress-induced conditions. That does it for the public health announcement.

Many sighs. Magglio just check-swing struck out to end the seventh inning with a runner stranded on third. Many sighs. Speaking of Magglio, I was happy to see an article on MLB.com stating that Ordóñez was worthy of an All-Star berth. I like when my guy gets credit where credit is due. Viva Magglio! (I would say All-Star in our hearts, but it sounds way too corny, and I don't go in for that sappy stuff. He knows we love him.)

Daniel Schlereth got a major shearing. I was at Friday night's game, sat behind the bullpen, and saw Schlereth sitting on a bench chatting it up with Jeff Jones, sporting long hair. Now it is cropped short. It definitely beats the static electricity look (scroll down on that page for the hilarious photo). Actually, our pal Kojak, er, I mean Rogo, of DesigNate Robertson is probably jealous even of that strange hair. Schlereth does appear to have the ability to grow instant facial hair like Alex Avila. The club's going to be spending a lot of money on razor blades. Invest in Gillette.

Binge knocks Boesch in and stretches a double into a triple, securing Player of the Game honors, even if someone else actually knocks in a game winner. That's just how POG works. Inge wins it unless he's on the bench. A very strange group of minions mans cell phones all over the country, texting in for Binge scores of times every game. There is no plumbing such minds to find answers. Trust me.

No pressure, Ajax, you're just pinch hitting in the bottom of the 8th with a runner on third and two outs. I repeat, no pressure. Breathe in, breathe out. Jackson takes the first two pitches for strikes. Um, ok. Maybe there is some pressure. He grounds out harmlessly. Sigh.

Johnny Damon got his 2500th knock tonight. Congratulations! I'm happy for the guy. Damon got a nice ovation and they saved the ball for him, so he should have some warm fuzzy memories of the milestone, even if it did occur in the not-so-cosmopolitan city of Detroit, Michigan.

In the bottom of the ninth, Quiet Riot's "Feel the Noise" was blaring at the CoPa. Funny. It wasn't 80s night, or metal night, as far as I know.

Swing and a drive, way back...gone! Miggy crushes one to left to knot things up at five. Thank you, big fella. We needed that since the evil Twinks beat the Jays tonight. You could just see in Miguel's face that he had decided he was going to belt one out of there in that at bat. Wow. Just. Wow.

Rick Knapp goes out to the mound in the 11th to talk to Perry with runners on first and second and one out. Perry is deferentially nodding and earnestly repeating, okay, okay over and over again, while looking Knapp square in the eye. So stinking adorable.

Johnny Damon decides hit number 2500 just isn't enough, and jacks a two run walk off shot deep to right field to end all this Baltimore-Orioles-possibly-winning-the-game nonsense. Cheers!

Who Needs Offense? We'll Win on Errors

Aubrey Huff feels like a real Tiger now. No more cheesy fake-fur costume for him, those stripes are genuine. His three run shot in the 9th to tie up a game that felt lost injected the remaining soggy fans at the CoPa with fresh fervor. Watching the replay, and seeing him flip his bat after the no-doubter was especially touching.

When will people learn that you NEVER, EVER pencil it in? How did it feel to hear the walk-off win from your car, genius?

Marco Scutaro needed a few pats on the back last night as he walked to the clubhouse. Two errors (his 9th & 10th of the season) made the difference late in the game for our Bengals. Amidst the happy smiles and high fives after the game, I felt a small twinge. It feels odd to have the game handed to you like that. I wonder how Avila felt after hitting into a seemingly sure double-play, then getting mobbed on the field as the hitter of the walk-off...error? The feeling didn't linger for me, however. A win is a win no matter how cheap.

According to MLB Network's "Quick Pitch," the Tigers have now won 22 games in their last at bat, second only to the Yankees' 25 such wins, and tied with the Dodgers. Not bad company, and it makes for some high drama.

Oh Justin, will you ever exit adolescence? I know it seems totally unfair to pick on a 16-game winner, who has shown us at times this year that he is ready to put on some big boy britches. After getting out of a first-and-third-no-out jam to preserve his fifth scoreless frame, and just when I thought he had shown remarkable maturity, he melted down in the 6th. Sigh. It was mildly ironic to see some bleacher fans in right tracking Justin's strikeouts with large poster-board Ks. Justin Verlander--7 innings, 10 hits, 5 earned runs and 9 strikeouts! Woo!?

I remind myself that a win is a win.

First Time's a Charm

A wild one with a happy (not storybook, but happy) ending. Not too shabby for a kid's first MLB game, I'd say. Lots of action, lots of runs, extra base hits. Not exactly sharp from a defensive perspective, but hey, you can't have everything.

The nephew had a lot of fun at the game. His only disappointment was not getting a ball. He had a couple very near misses. During Twins batting practice, he was on the rail in right field. A ball came right to where he was standing, but the kid next to him snagged it. Then he went down to the rail in front of our section (104) while the Tigers were playing catch each inning. Magglio and Clete both threw balls up there several times. Again, one time he was close, with the kid right next to him coming away with the souvenir. He actually said he wished the game would go into extras so he could keep trying for a ball. Aw.

Alex Avila has 5 RBIs in his first 8 at bats. Holy cow is he squashing all that "it's way too soon" talk. No, it's only been two games, but it sure is fun to see him come in with a bang, and we got to see his first major league home run last night. It came into right field, but I didn't see anyone come over and try and retrieve the ball from the fan for Alex. Huh.

I guess my favorite part of the game was seeing Granderson get out of a pickle. Ok, technically he didn't get out of it, but the umpire blew the call, so it counts. That was incredible. And then the throw to second was also off, so everyone was safe on the play and a run scored. That was something to witness.

Fernando Rodney. Well, I can't even say I was surprised at that performance. Stressed, squirming, sweating it out? Yes. Surprised? No. It was all too routine. I don't complain, though, since all's well that ends well.

The White Sox loss served to complete a beautiful evening. Aunt takes nephew to first game ever, Tigers put on an offensive display, Tigers hold on to win, divisional rivals lose, Tigers pad lead in AL Central. What more could I possibly ask for on such a night?