Game Three is Good to Me

I was at Game 3 of the 2006 ALDS. I was at Game 3 of the 2011 ALDS. These were good games. The Tigers won them both. I screamed myself hoarse. I got to see two Yankee fans practically RUN to the exits after DEREK MR. OCTOBER JETER struck out to end the game and the Yankee comeback threat.

This game was the cause of many near-hospitalizations. My stomach hurt almost all game long. At the end of the game, I was literally gulping for air, and my legs were a strange jelly-like consistency underneath me. It was all almost too much to bear. I had so much adrenaline rushing through my body, it lingered for hours afterward. I woke up yesterday at 5:00 am, and couldn't go back to sleep in anticipation of the evening's festivities. I didn't get home until after 1 am, and as you know, I'm old, so staying up for 20 hours straight takes its toll. I felt massively hungover today, even though I didn't have a drop of alcohol yesterday. I've been worthless all day. My body is moving in a very slug-like manner, and my throat is scratchy from all the raucous yelling I did last night. It's fabulous.

Justin Verlander struck out the side in the fifth, and it was nothing short of breath-taking. HE STRUCK OUT THE YANKEE SIDE. IN THE PLAYOFFS. COME ON PEOPLE! Crazy-tingly-high-fiving-strangers-wicked-stuff.

Delmon Young's seventh inning, game-winning home run came very near where I was sitting with Rogo of Designate Robertson. He is a total dork, and has posted a photo on his site in which he has circled himself in the crowd. Needless to say, we all went gonzo when it happened. I mean, how deflating that Gardner, newly annointed Tiger Killer, tied the game in the top of the inning. I am beginning to dislike this fellow very much. Anyway, Delmon revived us all with one first-pitch swing of the bat. Thank you Delmon, for picking Justin Verlander up so quickly.

When Don Kelly laid down a bunt single, I had to laugh and give Rogo a hard time. It was fun. Also, I declare that Rogo not-so-secretly likes and roots for Brandon Inge. Yes, the very same Inge he has mocked and derided on his site for years. You may not be aware of this, but the Rogo of Designate Robertson isn't much like Scott Rogowski. It's an alter-ego like Tony Plush or Larry Bernandez.

Jose Valverde had a ninth inning that gave the nickname Cardiac Cats new meaning. I am serious. At times, I could barely watch, and my breath was alternately held and gasping. I tried taking deep calm breaths, but with little success. Two walks, two outs, he buzzes Jeter and we all gasp some more. Finally, FINALLY he gets Jeter swinging, and the place roars.

Post season memories last a lifetime.

THE PLAYOFFS ARE HERE

My hands are a bit shaky as I type this. I am awash with nervous anticipation. I'm not nervous because I'm worried about our boys playing the Yankees. I'm just overamped, something I hope Justin Verlander is NOT.

Bring on the stupid Yankees of New York City. Bring on Nick Swisher and his extra large mouth that said that the Yankees would beat the Tigers "hands down." I hope we can stuff those words down his throat along with some sod and dirt and stuff. Bring on Lord Jeter and his overhyped, overrated, overworshipped self. Bring on Alex Rodriguez and his mirror kissing, centaur painting, image obsessed, fake personality. Bring on the whole stinking Yankee roster, and match them up with Justin Verlander. I want to see it.

I don't know how much longer I can wait for this game to start. The past two days have crawled by at a pace so glacial, it appeared that 8:37 might never arrive.

I really hope tonight's game isn't a nail biter, because I'm not sure my constitution can stand it. I mean, I guess a nail biter would be better than a Yankee blowout, but....please....have pity on me......

OK. I am ready. I want this thing underway already. I want to stop hearing about the Yankee mystique and the Yankee dominance, and the Yankee tradition, and the Yankee post-season magic, and....sigh. All that's left to say is:

We're all behind our baseball team, go get 'em Tigers!

and:

PLAY BALL!

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.

Grandyvision

So the Freep decides that torture is a valid form of journalism, and posts a 27 photo gallery of Curtis Granderson as a Yankee. There are photos of Curtis engaged in all manner of Spring Training activities, from fist bumps with Robinson Cano (while standing with his thumb tucked adorably under his belt loop) to chatting it up with Derek Jeter (sigh), to palling around with other former Tiger Marcus Thames (straight to the heart!), to mournful shots of his Yankee equipment, emblazoned with number 14 (whyyyyyy?).

I'm serious, it's like someone at the Freep just found out his/her significant other was cheating and had to inflict equal pain on the rest of us. Some solo shots of Jeter and A-Rod are thrown in there at the end, because....um, they're Yankees, and everyone must care about what they are doing every waking moment of every day.

So, if you're feeling emotionally strong, go ahead, subject your self to the whole gallery.