Water is Wet

Allow me to recount for you just a couple of the many hardships that had to be endured to make it through last night’s game.

1. The monsoon. I’m no wimp. I come prepared with rain jacket every game. However, the heavy rains at the end of the game left everyone waterlogged and dripping. Even my mints, which were in a closed aluminum tin, were soggy. Also, it was genuinely interfering with Valverde’s ability to pitch. The game should have been called, but I understand why they were trying to finish it. If the outcome had been disastrous, however, there would have been a lot of (justified) complaints from the Tiger fan base.

2. Annoying fans. There were four young kids (just out of high school?) sitting behind us. Here are a few of the comments from their non-stop, loud, inane conversations. “tee hee, I throw like a girl.” (High,tittery voice with a lot of giggling) “I like when someone makes decisions for me.” Please. Please don’t be a quivering mass of man-pleasing flesh. The guys were no better. “No girl I know will drive in a thunderstorm.” WHAT? You must not know many girls. “My ex-girlfriend cheated on me with my best friend, and I had lost my virginity to her to boot.” Girl sympathetically replies, “What a bitch.” Many sighs.

3. The spouse. My husband is no Tigers fan. He likes Josh Hamilton. Funny how he calls Miguel Cabrera a drunk, but likes Hamilton so much. Anyway, he was noisily cheering for Texas, while mocking my Tigers all night long. Needless to say, his antics intensified when Benoit laid two eggs in the eighth. We may have had to arrange for a cab for one of us if the Tigers hadn't won on Boesch's dinger. Ha. It was all in good fun, but still. So nauseating. He can stay at home from now on. He did walk all the way around the stadium in search of cotton candy for me, though. Thanks, hon.

In all, I never complain when the night results in a W. So, these minor inconveniences faded away in the light of Boesch's towering drive (that landed about eight rows directly behind me). Thanks Brennan. I owe you one.

Miscellany

Lynn Henning writes that Brad Thomas has had a good spring. He attributes the stellar play in part to adjusting to the smoother surface on baseballs in MLB, as opposed to those used in Korea, where he played before returning to American ball last season. The smoother baseballs led to Thomas' breaking ball having reduced spin last season, which made it more hittable. With some grip modifications, Thomas' breaking pitch's effectiveness has been restored.

It's always reassuring to find out that there was a concrete reason for a player's struggles. It's much preferred to the mysterious disappearance of skill, because something can be done about it. I'm glad to see that Thomas did identify the issue, and was able to make corresponding adjustments.

Speaking of the mysterious erosion of baseball ability, Dontrelle Willis is a non-roster invitee for the Cincinnati Reds this Spring. He is fighting for a bullpen spot, and not a place in the starting rotation. He had a bit of a setback in his last outing, walking two, and giving up two hits and two runs in only 1/3 of an inning, before rolling his ankle trying to back up home plate (possibly stepping on a bat). Previously, however, he had two very solid outings of two scoreless innings each. For more on Willis' Spring, click here. He's feeling confident and comfortable, and Cincinnati may have a spot for him as an innings-eater in the 'pen.

If you watched the Tigers game that was televised on ESPN on March 3, you may remember Bobby Valentine saying that Brennan Boesch is battling Ryan Raburn for the starting left-field job. Uh, did he pull that out of his baseball cap, because Jim Leyland has asserted all along that the starting job is Raburn's. Now, maybe Valentine hallucinated the whole thing, and maybe he misspoke and meant that Boesch is battling for a roster spot. That he is, and playing pretty well (in the small sample size thus far). In fact, that outfield reserve position has quite a few contestants. Casper Wells and Clete Thomas are also hopefuls. I'm not including Don Kelly, because he is pretty much assured a spot as utility guy and emergency catcher. Let's take a look at how Boesch, Wells, and Thomas are playing so far.

Boesch .333/.459/.467/.926 over 10 games and 30 AB

Thomas .321/.355/.357/.712 over 12 games and 28 AB

Wells .391/.533/.783/1.316 over 11 games and 23 AB

To begin, we have way too little data to go on thus far. It's just a little snapshot, and doesn't mean much. Wells is probably out of luck, because Boesch and Thomas are both lefties, of which this lineup is short. He would have to sustain his current raking over the remainder of Spring Training and play out of his mind on defense as well to beat out the pair of left-handers. I think that if Boesch and Thomas end with similar lines, Boesch will probably get the spot, since the club may want to see if he can play like he did the first half of next year. Thomas can play all three outfield spots, but so can Don Kelly (sort of), who is already pretty much a lock. Who do you want to see snagging the outfield reserve roster spot?

If You Didn't Love Phil Coke Already, You Will Now

Phil Coke has already endeared himself to most Detroit fans. If, however, you are someone who has not yet fallen for the adorable, gregarious hurler, I have evidence that will have you head over heels.

Coke was not supposed to pitch in yesterday's finale against the O's. He had been drilled by a ball on Friday. Leyland's plan was to rest him. However, Coke told the skip he was ready to go if needed for Sunday. That should get you started down a path of Coke adoration right there. He's a gamer. Listen to this quote. "I always want the ball," Coke said. "I don't care if I'm missing a limb, I want the ball. If I'm able to go out there and throw the ball over the plate and get the job done, then that's what I'm here for. That's my job. I want to be effective and able to do my job. Luckily, I was given the opportunity." He always wants the ball. Even if a limb has inexplicably gone missing, he wants the ball. Enough said. It reminds me of my son. He ALWAYS wants the ball, too. In his league, pitchers were limited to six innings per week to protect young arms. One game, my son had already pitched three innings. Coach was going to put another pitcher in to start the next inning. My son stubbornly walked to the mound anyway, hoping he'd persuade his coach to let him pitch at least one inning more. I laughed, but I guess that's a good quality for a pitcher.

When Coke got the final out in the 9th inning on Sunday, the emotion was palpable. Check out the description by MLB.com's Alex DeFillipo. "And as soon as home-plate umpire Derryl Cousins rang up Pie, Coke howled out a scream that seemed so loud it could be heard in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

"I was really fired up," Coke said. "I was really, really fired up, especially after stinking the other night. I got hit, it hurt and I was upset." Coke takes every mistake to heart. I mean, really, really to heart. He shoulders blame like a regular pack mule. Personal responsibility is like Phil Coke's credo or something. He doesn't look outside himself. It HURTS when he gets hit around. He's not just out there to collect that paycheck. It's impossible not to love that.

On top of it all, Coke is just a fun, entertaining individual. I sat a few rows behind the bullpen one night, and Coke was out there interacting and laughing it up with fans, talking to the bullpen police officer, just acting like a regular guy. A friend of mine worked a baseball camp at which Brennan Boesch and Phil Coke appeared. She said that Boesch was friendly, but very reserved, but that Coke was funny, engaging and talkative. No surprise there. Coke exudes approachability.

If none of this has caught your heart, just watch Coke sprint, I mean shoot like a cannon, out of the bullpen his next outing. It's absolutely impossible not to smile at the sight of it.

The CoPa Still Beckons

The Tigers are not mathematically eliminated from the 2010 playoffs. Ha. We all know it's over.

You know what, though? I still love going to ballgames. I can't help it. Is there a better sensory experience than walking in to the park, seeing the green expanse of grass and players warming up, smelling roasted peanuts and spun cotton candy, and hearing the public address announcer telling you that Comerica Park is a family environment and profanity is strictly forbidden? I don't think so.

So, I had to heed the call yesterday. Luckily, a friend of mine is very like-minded. When I texted her about going to the game, her simple reply was "of course." Like, there is no question of being tired or having obligations. Of course she wanted to spend 2 hours and four minutes with our boys of summer. Of course she wanted to take a sharpened pencil to her scorecard.

My friend wore her Jeremy Bonderman jersey last night. Thank her for that outstanding performance. Eight strong, three hits, one run, one walk? Just wow.

John Danks was the unhappy victim of a pair of errors by Mark Teahen. He was left out there to dry by Ozzie Guillen for six full innings, who apparently had no desire to burn through his pen. Only two of the five runs Danks was charged with were earned. Smart move by Guillen. Pena went the final two, and operation bullpen preservation succeeded.

Our murderer's row lineup really impressed. Wells had an RBI, and Inge and Avila each collected a pair. Everyone but Rhymes and Boesch had a hit.

Phil Coke. I haven't heard any updates lately on his dead arm/tired arm, but Leyland keeps running him out there, quite literally. It always makes me smile when Coke sprints to the mound. I don't like to see Coke struggle, because the guy is a smidge hard on himself, you know? Like when he blamed Joel Zumaya's broken elbow on his own ineffectiveness that game. So, it made me happy to see him allow no runs on one hit last night.

Anyway, do not ignore the call from your ballpark. She wants to entertain you. She does not disappoint. She will soon be shuttered. Go. While you still can.

No Joy in Mudville

In the first inning of this series finale, Ramon Santiago hit a one-out double down the right field line. With two outs and first base open, Miguel Cabrera strode to the plate, and Maddon pitched to him. Once again, strategy works, and Miggy strikes out swinging, stranding Santiago in scoring position. The frequency of this occurrence begins to wear me out. I don’t blame Miguel Cabrera. He can’t be 100% of our offense. It’s just that it appears that no break will ever come our way, whether it be incredible defensive plays, biased umpiring or voodoo.

It’s possible that I am a mite cranky due to our recent fall off a cliff, but if I have to see another Sam Bernstein commercial, or watch the Labatt Light Refreshment Duo even once more, I may take a fork to my own eyeballs. Not sure if that’s an overreaction, but like I said, I may be slightly irrational at the moment.

In the bottom of the second, former Tiger Carlos Peña hit a bomb to right field. Rod and Mario tell us it hit a catwalk BEYOND the right field wall. I just nod mechanically, yes that’s how things are going for us at the moment. At least I didn’t burst into tears.

Next, a pop foul drops harmlessly between Danny Worth and Ramon Santiago. Tears threaten but do not fall.

Will Rhymes leads off the third with a standup triple. It coaxes a small, no teeth showing smile. Rod says that Will looks like a track star the way he runs with his hands pumping up and down. Rod. You do go on. Hey, maybe Rhymes will hit for the cycle today. (Sarcastic laughter.) Sorry. I know that hardened cynicism is ugly. I’ll try to be sunnier.

Jhonny Peralta arrives in the Tiger dugout during the third inning. Sporting an awkward smile, he is greeted by handshakes and hugs. Must feel a bit odd to arrive mid-game. He is wearing number 27.

Ever informative, Rod lets the viewer know that the Tigers are 3 for 23 with RISP this series. Rod, need I remind you that tears are barely being held at bay here? Geez. Santiago beats out a double play to score Rhymes, and we’re tied at 1.

I absolutely adore the Rays striped socks. They really are all that. The dark blue socks are punctuated by rings of white and powder blue. Very nice. Every one of them should wear high socks at all times.

Cabrera makes a great diving stop on a grounder, but Crawford is too fast, and Porcello can’t beat him to the bag. Bases loaded. Eyes momentarily fill up. Choked back in time to see Porcello strike Longoria out for the second time. Two outs, bases still juiced. Two runs score on a liner that ricochets off Cabrera’s glove. Tough break number 5,427 for the Tigers. Sob. Hey, I held back as long as I could. You’re lucky I wasn’t boo hoo-ing two innings ago. Bases re-loaded on a walk to Matt Joyce. Forget that he saved a helpless kitten when he was here in Detroit. He hit a grand slam to squash Scherzer’s no-hitter on Monday. He’s on my list.

Boesch’s first hit of the series comes on a broken-bat infield single to short. We will take that, along with any other help we can get. Could the thunder rumbling outside the Trop strike any of the Rays occupants inside? Just asking. Raburn swings under an elevated fastball to run the count full. I can never say this enough about the high hard ones, “can’t him ‘em, can’t lay off ‘em.” It holds true most of the time.

The stupid carpet at the Trop is said to be wearing on free-agent-to-be Carl Crawford. He has a sore back every night from standing on the artificial surface. Can anyone steal him from the Yankees? I would appreciate that.

Ha. Laird comes up with runners on first and second with one out. Would you take the over or the under if I said the odds on him hitting into a double play were set at 85%? I’m not going to apologize for being jaded any more. It’s just what this season has done to me. Deal with it. I have to. Well he flies out to right, so at least it wasn’t the GIDP. It’s up to little Rhymes now, who sort of resembles a flea. Joyce runs down a fly ball, which had threatened to shoot the gap in right. Side retired. Bernstein commercial follows. I change the channel.

Miggy strikes out looking to start the sixth. Price has struck him out three times today for sobbing out loud! I almost just said “what more could happen to us?” but that would have brought on a hailstorm of destruction, so I refrained. Boesch strikes out. Quickly. I mean, he was hardly at the plate for three seconds. Two outs. None on. Raburn at the plate. He singles to bring Laird to the dish. Laird ground out weakly to second. Ahem. Another Bernstein commercial.

Porcello has now retired 9 straight batters and there are two outs in the bottom of the sixth for Willy Aybar. Porcello strikes him out for another 1-2-3 inning. There’s a little bright spot.

Price balks Worth over to second in the seventh with one out for Austin Jackson. A RISP? Oh, sadly, we can predict what will happen next. Well, we did score one run, but then Maddon walks Cabrera AGAIN to load up the bases when runners were on first and second, and Boesch grounds out weakly. I…just…

Porcello then dispatches the Rays in order to help me retain the vestiges of sanity. Thanks. Rod and Mario marvel about that new-fangled gadget the iPod touch. Guys. Please.

In the top of the eighth, we are carved up like so much roast beef. Porcello comes back out and gives up a single, then balks the runner to second. Are you serious? The balk looked suspect to me. Umpires are in a conspiracy against the Tigers. I am now convinced. Groundball advances runner to third. Leyland walks Longoria intentionally. Brings in Coke to pitch to Peña. AGAIN a groundball glances off Cabrera’s glove to score a run. Some evil puppeteer is orchestrating this game with the deliberate intention of driving Tigers fans to Bedlam. There IS NO OTHER explanation for the repetition of such horrors.

Down 4-2 and here come our last at bats. Danny Worth flies out to right to lead us off. Woo hoo! Austin Jackson does have an RBI single today, soooo let’s see what he can do with nobody on and one out. He chases two high hard ones to strike out. Here we go kids! Ramon Santiago remains our last hope of avoiding a four game sweep at the Trop. He grounds weakly right back to the mound to end this thing. Excuse me while I go lose my lunch and my mind.

Breakdown

I have now been reduced to a blubbering pile of snot, tears and tissues. I am in a state of total inability to cope. There's nothing left on which to maintain a hold. It has all slipped through my fingers and gone bye bye into the stratosphere.

Jim Leyland suspended for spitting sunflower seeds on umpire.

Tigers run out a lineup in which Will Rhymes is leadoff hitter.

Tigers acquire Jhonny Peralta.

I begin to laugh in maniacal, frightening bursts that are akin to wracked sobs.

Rays walk Miguel Cabrera when runners are on first and second to load bases and face scuffling Brennan Boesch. Strategy works.

Seriously. I got nothin'. Am totally bereft of sanity.

That's it. I can't write another sentence.

Lucky Bracelet Works Its Magic

I had a Detroit Tigers bracelet that looked much like the one pictured above, but it had blue stitching instead of red. Late last season, the bracelet went missing. I wore it to every game, so I was extremely disturbed that it was apparently lost.

Lo and behold, what did I find last week? The very same Tigers bracelet, which had found its way into a hole in the lining of my purse, and had been languishing in the very bag I use only for Tigers games. So, in point of fact, it had accompanied me to the games, but was not adorning my wrist. Well, lost treasure was found, and I wore the bracelet to last night’s game.

And what do you know?? After the Jays inexplicably pitch to Miguel Cabrera, but intentionally walk Brennan Boesch, unlikely hero Ryan Raburn hits a three-run double to put us ahead for good. Yes, the lucky bracelet is responsible. Yes, you can thank me for the win. Yes, I believe in its power. You should too. It may salvage this wreck of a season. It may help Magglio Ordóñez’ ankle to heal in record time. I am only sorry I wasn’t there Saturday night with my talisman to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. I’m sorry Magglio. I let you down.

Hey, if you send money, I will travel to St. Pete and bring us victory against the Rays. I am willing to make such sacrifices.

Rogo of DesigNate Robertson and I agreed, it felt like someone close to you died after Saturday night’s game. It was if our season had suddenly been terminated, but we still have to go through the motions for two more months. Now don’t get me wrong. I haven’t totally given up on us, but things are looking more than a little bleak, you know? I hope the young rooks go out there and play their tails off, and show everyone a little something, but you just can’t bank on it. Things might get a little weighty for them. Two outs, two on, down a pair of runs…that sort of thing.

So, encourage the youngsters, pull for them, and be patient with them...and never underestimate the power of the bracelet.

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!

Messing with the Lineup

Much has been made of manager Jim Leyland’s inept lineup making when a player such as three-hole Magglio Ordóñez is out. Rogo of Designate Robertson and I have wrung our hands, spit tacks, and battled lunacy over players like Don Kelly and Ryan Raburn batting third when they clearly have no business doing so. Then, to add to the absolute hilarity (that’s a euphemism for bull dung) of it all, Rod and Mario were discussing the matter during yesterday’s game. Can you guess what they had to say about it? They said that Leyland likes to slot a replacement player into the missing player’s place in the lineup, so as not to “mess with” the rest of the order.

WHAT??

So, you’re telling me a player who normally bats fifth or sixth (Boesch, Guillen), will get all “messed up” if suddenly called upon to bat third? I…what the…does not compute. I am so sorry, but if a major league ballplayer can’t deal with an occasional shift in the lineup card, what earthly good is he? Please file this under the “just shoot me now and put me out of my agony” category, because I believe I am about to go certifiable.

In rather interesting timing, Ian Casselberry, in his new work at SB Nation Detroit, points us to a Boston Globe piece by Nick Cafardo, in which he opines whether Jim Leyland is doing his best work yet as manager. Ahem, excuse me while I become the latest victim of spontaneous combustion. I'm going to have to go ahead and say (expletive) NO, Nick.

Little Stevie Wonder?

Soooooo, a certain young phenom debuted last night and commandeered the national (bad pun, sorry) baseball stage. Notwithstanding my Tiger loyalties, I wanted to witness the kid's maiden MLB outing. So I met a friend at a sports bar that was going to show both the Nats and Tigers games. Stephen Strasburg, my friends, did not disappoint. All he did was strike out FOURTEEN batters (one shy of the record for a debut), pitch SEVEN innings, and give up only TWO runs. Sorry for all the yelling via caps, but it's kind of exciting, no? I mean, yes, he's been hyped beyond all reasonable limits, and yes, he lived up to the hype, for one night at least. And there's really no reason to think he won't continue to knock everyone's baseball socks right off their feet. To top it all off, in his first at bat, the kid could have had an infield single, if he'd run down the line faster. He must've thought it was more of a routine play, but it looked like he could have made it to me. Bet he won't make that mistake again.

Today, some sports radio show hosts were asking who the last person was that you saw and you knew right then they were going to be a special player. For me, it was Vince Carter. I saw him participate in the 1995 McDonald's All American dunk contest for high school players. I didn't know him from Adam, but I saw him throwing down all these ridiculous dunks. I immediately turned on the old VCR so I could show my hoops-crazy husband when he got home later. Vince goes down as one of the game's best dunk men. He was a pretty good player, too, but the dunks were just in another league. Bottom line, I was no expert, but I could see with the naked eye that this kid was operating on another plane. Same with Strasburg. He went out there and dealt. Period. I mean, seriously, fourteen Ks for a debut? Let's just say it made the old-lady-out-on -the-town-on-a-week-night well worth it.

You may have been aware that there was also a Tiger game last night. Don't worry, I didn't sell out my team. The Tigers game was on the big screen at the bar, and I paid it proper attention. The Nats and Little Stevie Wonder were playing on several smaller screens. Happily, the Nats game was a 7:05 start, and the Tigers were an 8:10, so there was a good hour to watch Strasburg, before I had to start training one eye on the Tigers game and the other on the Nats vs. the perennial "also-ran" Pirates.

Gavin Floyd. How does this guy scream mediocrity and then pitch us lights out all the time? Veeery maddening. Stern looks all around to Tigers batters. I was beginning to get a mite frustrated, when our boys came to the rescue and broke out with six runs in the seventh inning (after Floyd exited the game, mind you). Brennan Bash and Carlos Guillen went yard back-to-back. Tee hee, that was fun. The only downer of the night was that the Twinks were pounding the Royals, so we didn't have the opportunity to gain any ground.

Wonder Twin Powers, Activate!

Brennan Boesch went two for four with a stolen base today. The kid now stands at .387 AVG, .397 OBP, .680 SLG, 1.077 OPS. If that doesn't make you giddy, I'm not sure what will. First Austin Jackson and now Boesch. We are getting oh so spoiled by these young children bursting out of the gate, taking MLB by storm. It's fun though, isn't it?

Yes, they will come back down to earth. Jackson has perhaps already begun his descent. That's ok. We're prepared for it. We are ready to be patient with possible slumps. Boesch misplayed a ball today. I swallowed my frustration. I mean, come on. What are you going to say to the kid? He's still learning left field. He's six foot four, and he stole a base with ease today. You gotta love that. I do, anyway.

Many sighs today for Miguel Cabrera. He comes up with the bases loaded, and we're down two, and he fails, epic fail. Magglio Ordóñez walked three times ahead of him today, and he had zero hits, zero RBI...sigh. Actually, more like AAAARRRRRGGGGHHH. Not a cute pirate-y arghh, either. Well, I'd better temper that since Miggy was 4-5 with the bases loaded coming into today's game. Ok. Ok. But still, we needed that, and the failure only brought up questions about him partying with the White Sox last night (especially since the game was rained out).

Now, our second and final west coast trip of the season. Get ready for some dark circles under the eyes, and some reduced production at the job site.

Tigers vs. Yankees: A Fairy Tale

In a miraculous turn of events, today's game was not rained out. You can thank me for that, because I was going to the game, and therefore the weather had to conform itself to my wishes. I am not even kidding, I checked the forecast at least twenty times and each time it predicted rain to occur every hour of the day. EVERY hour. You figure it out, I sure can't. Not a single drop fell on Comerica Park the entire game. All of this was very fortuitous, because my mom was in town joining me for today's game, and can you imagine the bitter dregs of disappointment that a rainout would brew?

Also, the Tigers have won all four games I've been to this year. Today was no exception. We not only beat the Yankees, we shut them out, we scored SIX runs off CC Sabathia (/giggles with glee), Verlander pitched 6.2 innings of shutout ball, so what more could I ask for?

Oh, I guess I could have ordered up back-to-back home runs by Miguel Cabrera and Brennan Boesch. Even Gerald Laird had two RBIs today. I mean, come on, I couldn't script this stuff any better.

Derek Jeter, although leading off the game with an infield single, otherwise continued his hitting ineptitude that has characterized this series. I just got to use the words Derek Jeter and ineptitude in the same sentence! Alex Rodriguez had zero hits today! (/bursts into uproarious laughter)

It wouldn't be a fairy tale without a happy ending. Although Justin Verlander's pitch count reached 119 before the seventh inning was complete, Joel Zumaya and Eddie Bonine came in and combined to allow zero hits and zero runs. We took three of four from the most loathsome team in the league. Hurrah!

...and the Tigers continue to win games, Brennen Boesch and Austin Jackson play like veteran superstars all season long, the Tigers win the pennant, go on to the World Series, and all the little Tiger fans live happily ever after...

Ernie's Night at the CoPa

Well, I missed the last game at Tiger Stadium, I missed the game last year at which Ernie gave his farewell speech, I missed Ernie's viewing at Comerica last week, so I decided I just couldn't miss the game last night. I wanted to be there when Paul Carey threw out the ceremonial first pitch. I wanted to hear Jose Feliciano's beautiful rendition of the anthem. I wanted to see the flag hoisted up in memory of Ernie Harwell.

After some last minute wrangling, I got a ticket, and I made it there. I'm glad. I took a few pictures. If you click them, they will enlarge.

Rogo of DesigNate Robertson was at the park too. He concocted some story about me hugging him. If you're that desperate for affection, guy, just ask, I'd be happy to give you a hug.

Happy things occurred for the Tigers. Alex Rodriguez made an error, which led to runs! Magglio Ordóñez made an amazing catch with runners on first and third to basically save the game for us in the eighth, and the look on Derek Jeter's face as he saw at least a double taken away was so....what shall I say...glorious! Papa Grande struck out the side in the ninth in dramatic fashion, leading to people questioning his antics on the mound. I am all for these antics if they keep leading to victories. It's who he is. It's not a put-on. Let the guy be himself. He walked out to the pen before the game, and I wish I had my camera on, because he has kind of a wild look in his eyes, even just casually strolling by. Brennan Boesch continues to mash, with a triple and three RBIs. I keep wondering when he's going to cool off a bit, but I hope he keeps me wondering for quite some time.

Brennan Boesch in left.

Zoel Zumaya and Phil Coke walking out to the pen.

A moment of silence for Ernie Harwell.

Ernie's memorial flag is raised.

Al Kaline, Willie Horton, Brandon Inge, and two of Ernie's daughters help to ready the flag for raising.

Yes, thanks Ernie, the memories will never fade.

Magglio Ordóñez and Brennan Boesch warming up.

Gerald Laird, he of the .147 average, warming up.

Brandon Inge and Tom Brookens walk out to help with the flag ceremony.

Damon Hits Walkoff Winner, Walks Off with Shaving Cream

Dramatics have been the modus operandi for the Tigers of late. Yesterday, Scott Sizemore and Brennan Boesch hit their first major league home runs in the same inning, Boesch's a Grand Salami to cap off an 8-run fourth. Today, Damon hit his first home run in a Tigers uniform, and came at a time calculated to endear himself to his teammates and the Detroit fan base.

Personally, I am maintaining a strict professional distance with Damon. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate his production, his loosey goosey clubhouse vibe, veteran/mentor status, blah, blah, blah...however, I do not forget that he comes here strictly as a merchant marine, hired gun mercenary. It's a one year deal. He'll be doing all this somewhere else next year, you dig?

Anyway, none of that tempers my adoration of the conclusion of today's festivities. I was there in spirit as the bench emptied and surrounded Damon in a riotous scrum.

I watched the Tigers post-game show for the first time all year, and saw the on-field interview with Damon, who was talking about the wind affecting his home-run's distance when he was blind-sided by Gerald Laird and a towel full of shaving cream. Laird scored a direct hit, and Johnny scooted away to the dugout to towel off. He actually returned to complete the interview, with shaving cream still clinging to his face, hair and ears. Very endearing indeed.

My heart remains detached as ever...