A Wrinkle in Time

Today's off day gives me a chance to post a piece I had previously written, but didn't get a chance to finish. Here goes.

I know that I have already penned a post about Justin Verlander’s no-hitter, but I could not resist a little self-indulgent, nostalgic stroll down memory lane when I heard that FSN was replaying the no-hitter on the eve of the 2010 Tigers season opener. Besides, a fellow blogger revealed to me that he teared up when watching the replay. It made me smile and chuckle with delight to hear it. It really was a sacred moment in Tigers history.

By the time Pudge rushed the mound and lifted Justin Verlander up off the ground in a surge of emotion, I was flailing my arms around wildly, screaming and embracing my mother like we hadn’t laid eyes on each other in twenty years. I jumped up and down for so long it counted as a workout, and I could not leave the park for anything. I watched rapt as Justin Verlander stood down on the field, talking with FSN’s John Keating--not that I could hear a word he was saying. It didn’t matter. I could not believe what I had just witnessed. I remember telling my dad later that night in a breathless voice that a person could go to hundreds of games in his/her lifetime and never see a no-hitter. After all, this was the first home no-hitter for the Tigers since 1952 when Virgil Trucks hurled two of them in one year (but still went 5-19).

I had spent the previous hour and half or so in a state of rapturous agony. I was so nervous for Verlander, my stomach ached as if someone had taken my intestines and twisted them up like a downtown Chicago cloverleaf. Out after out, I clutched my pencil with increasing intensity, white knuckles showing. As the innings wore on, I made the marks on my scorecard with greater care, knowing now that it could be a card I would want to place in a shadow box with my tickets stubs one day.

After the game, I carefully penciled in all the zeroes across the card. Zero hits, zero runs, zero errors. There were four bases on balls, but am I one to quibble with walks when a no-hitter occurred? It was funny anyway that three of them went to one batter—Bill Hall. Who cares that the Brewers then went on to win the remaining two games of that interleague series? Is that important? No. It’s trivia noone will remember in the wake of Justin Verlander making the Brewers’ lineup miss everything that night. And that he did in spectacular fashion. He racked up 12 Ks as the whiffing hacks harmlessly swished air around the batter’s box.

The two defensive plays that saved the no-no are as memorable as Justin’s work on the hill. First, Magglio Ordóñez, known never to leave his feet to make a play, made a nice sliding catch to save a sinking flare to right. Then, defensive specialist Neifi Perez turned a double play of the decade to keep things going. Leyland’s penchant for over-valuing certain players comes in handy now and again. I won’t ever gripe about Neifi’s spot on the squad, I promise. He earned it all on that singular play.

Thanks for putting up with a trip in the time machine. I know it can only stir up the fondest of memories. Tomorrow, King Felix. Bring it.

What Lies Beneath

A trail of tears leads me to this place.  Magglio Ordóñez finds himself floundering at the one place he's been most outstanding his baseball career:  the plate.  El Campeón Bate 2007 is currently carrying a .232 AVG, and has gone 0-4 the last game, and oh, yeah, the game before that too.

In an MLB.com article by David Just, we get a hint of an explanation.  It sounds like there are personal problems afoot for our 2006 ALCS hero.

Jim Leyland says:

"He's got some other things on his mind."

Collective shudder.

We all know how personal problems can devastate a player's game, and rightly so.   Baseball is only a game after all, and one that requires a lot of mental concentration.  Amid personal ruin, I can imagine myself hunched over my computer alternately stifling sobs and sputtering angry words through clenched teeth, working at approximately .032 efficiency.

Just look at Pudge in 2005.  The team stunk, he was going through a divorce, and that was a cocktail for utter chaos in the clubhouse for him.  He hit. 276 in 2005, sandwiched between .334 in 2004 and .300 in 2006.  Although he had a very good defensive year in 2005, I'm attributing his offensive blip to his personal problems.   That is very sound logic, and there are no other factors that could have affected his plate production.  I can hardly stifle my own rebuttal to that statement, but just go with it, okay?

Anyway, I'm worried about My Tiger.  Hope everything's gonna be all right for him, both on and off the field.

All Are Banished, All are Punished

Ok, I was out of town over Thanksgiving, cut off from the Tigers and the Internet.  So, I just now got around to reading Jayson Stark's lengthy Thanksgiving piece on the Tigers.  One comment jumped out at me.  Stark was mentioning our void at catcher, and referred to Pudge as "banished in mid-season."

Excuse me, banished?  If I'm not mistaken, he asked to be traded, because he was all malcontented over not playing every day, and because he "always wanted to play for the Yankees."  Now maybe it was just a casual way of putting it, but I take umbrage to Stark saying the Tigers banished Pudge.  Quite the contrary.

I guess it's just my "hell hath no fury like a Tigers fan scorned," but I was a little offended that Pudge wanted to high-tail it out of here.  I guess it just plays into my feeling that he really only came here for the big payday, and I didn't forget what a clubhouse cancer he was in 2005 (I know, we stunk and he was getting a divorce, cry me a river.)  I mean, it's not like he's gonna go into the Hall as a Tiger, you know?  I still give him mad props for all he did here, for his career as a whole, and I despised the deal that sent him to the Yanks.  I can't even say the other player's name without fighting the gag reflex.  No sour grapes, but look how well it worked out for him there.   Funny how the "dream team" NY doesn't suit everyone, huh?

Anyway, we're without a catcher, he's without a team.