Showing posts with label Jim Leyland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jim Leyland. Show all posts

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Spinning a Royal Yarn

The Tiger's press conference announcing his highness Prince Fielder awaited me after I finished work. A whole lot of nothing gets said at these things, but it's fun to listen and watch for goofy moments, if you can avoid getting mesmerized by Mike Ilitch's hair/rug/whatever.

Here are a few items of which I took note.

Jim Leyland didn't look like he fancied the dress up duds much. You may say, how incredibly blunt, I wouldn't need to watch the presser to tell you that. He didn't visibly squirm or tug at his tie, but you know, the vibe was there. Jim had to tell us that he believes Miguel will do just fine at third, despite a deficit in athleticism, and he has the proverbial great hands and a stellar arm. I mean, there is some truth there, he played short once upon a time, so he must be able to throw. And of course, we were reminded that the bit lost on defense, is gained and then some on the other side of the ball. Yesindeedbecausedontmakemebringupbrandoningesnumbersdontyoumakemedoit.

Scott Boras is still a mighty smug guy, who holds the rabble at a fair distance, the better to cordon himself off in his self-edifying, lofty air. Unfortunately, Mike Ilitch bought into this with whatever's left of his fortune, and made Boras out to have Baseball-Reference-d the whole of the Tiger organization, right down to our last utility man. Sigh.

The Princely one himself is not especially fond of holding forth and analyzing a thing to death like we are. He's got a very comfortable way about him. I guess you would be comfortable when you can just flat out play, when you know you've got the goods, when there is just no question about your ability. Asked about the pressure of living up to the old "expectations" of a sizable contract, he appeared genuinely unfazed, and matter of factly stated he would go out and play hard and expected that all that stuff would take care of itself. He wasn't going to try to change his approach to the ball to hit the gaps at Comerica. He will go out there and hit the ball hard (meaning shred the cover off that orb) and try to hit line drives. He doesn't know AL pitchers that well, but then in the minors you don't know the pitchers either, and it all works out. This is a man who isn't going to get his jock strap in a twist over perceptions. And it's a good thing, too, as Lynn Henning straight up called him pudgy and asked Scott Boras if there was a weight clause in that there contract. I don't mind people asking the tough questions, because who wants a whole bunch of "how does it feel to be back in Detroit" swill," but Henning was just flatly rude.

Dave Dombrowski didn't wear a striped polo shirt, but suited up with the rest of the bunch in solemn acknowledgement of the coronation. He helped Prince into the home white jersey, and the awkward photo-op developed just as you'd expect, with Mike Ilitch crowing, "A Tiger!" It was adorable. As the GM, Dave has to become a veritable cardboard cutout cliché. He simply has to go down the line and thank the principal players, be deferent and executive all at once. Poor Dave. Ha.

Mike Ilitch was really the presser's show stopper, and it was hilarious and touching and quite appropriate. He spoke like a proud grandfather about Prince and hearing about him from Cecil, following his career, just missing him in the draft. He was a sweet old husband, calling his wife out to stand and look around at the crowd of media members who'd gathered to hear the tale of how Prince Fielder came to Detroit. He handed Chanel Fielder a bouquet of flowers in a courtly display of manners. He didn't come across as a pompous, fake, or heavy-handed. He looked happy, really thrilled to have this whole thing come together. A great moment of satisfaction. I must say that my own immediate reaction on Tuesday was just to be agog at this man's willingness to initiate such deals as this and the Cabrera trade.

I wish I could recreate for you my absolute frenzied astonishment on Tuesday as the news broke. It was incredulity, followed by a high brought on by being hammered from behind with the most joyous news. The wake we'd been holding for Victor was swept away, and a grand, raucous party broke out in its place. Sure, we'll come down eventually, and deal with a few realities. But for now, we dance!

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

And My Vote for AL Manager of the Year Goes To

As a member of the Baseball Bloggers Alliance, it is my pleasure to cast a vote for the Connie Mack Award (Manager of the Year) for the American League. My top three choices appear below.

Ron Washington

Ron Washington has Texas contending again this year. The Rangers have already advanced to the ALCS. Washington is respected by his players and peers alike. Jim Leyland selected him as a coach for the 2007 All Star Game. Texas' record in September was 19-6. Yes, you've got to credit the players for this run, but I believe the manager deserves some credit as well.

Joe Maddon

The Rays lopped over $35 million off their payroll after last season. By the way, the Rays' payroll was 29th in all of baseball this season at $41,900,000. The team also lost its entire bullpen after last season, but still made the playoffs. Joe Maddon seems to know how to make the game fun. He also knows how to win games with a small payroll. He contends in the AL East. Enough said.

Jim Leyland

Although Jim Leyland entered this season as a lame duck, I do not believe that status affected his ability to lead or manage in the least. I don't think the players find it to be a distraction. The ballclub extended Leyland's and Dombrowski's contracts in July anyway, so the whole lame duck thing went away. Jim Leyland makes a lot of decisions that madden me. Lineups, reliever selection, you name it. However, he has been successful. His players love him. He is known for keeping the clubhouse loose, and for dealing with all kinds of personalities. He is loyal to his players, often to a fault, especially veterans. Before Jim Leyland was hired, the Tigers were caught in a seemingly endless cycle of losing seasons. Since then, we've contended for the playoffs almost annually. Not too bad.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Wonder Twin Powers Activate!

So, my friend Nicole sponsored a trip to the CoPa yesterday (thank you!), and a few strange adventures occurred. First of all, it was such a beautiful day. The sun was out, there was not a cloud in the sky, and I even needed to apply SUNSCREEN. You must recognize that this beautiful day was an aberration of eric proportions for this Spring-that-never-was. It was glorious.



Get a load of this. The first game that Nicole and I attended this year was on April 12. At this game, Josh Hamilton broke his shoulder sliding into home on that notorious play. This time, Eric Chavez broke his foot sliding into third. Coincidence? I think not! We obviously have the mysterious power to fracture bones of the opposition with our very presence at the park. We were thinking that we should be sure to attend a White Sox game next.

It was Paws' 16th birthday celebration (sigh). I'm not gonna lie to you. Mascots creep me out. I spent the day trying to avoid the myriad mascot representatives that were brought in for the festivities. We had a close call by the escalators, but I managed to escape without being accosted. Muddy and Muddona were there from the Hens, the Pirates' Parrot, Sparty, and some really scary looking clown were there among some mercenaries like the Bell Tire tire and the Comcast remote (come on). Paws got a new car driven out by his father! See photo evidence below. All photos in this post are courtesy of Nicole Maitland and may not be reused without expressed written permission.


Nicole is a big Will Rhymes fan. She was none too pleased with Flea getting pushed out of the big club by Mr. Sizemore. She has begun a grass-roots campaign with the slogan "Bring Back Will." She vows to send this cryptic message to Jim Leyland himself every day until Rhymes regains his footing in the bigs. Needless to say, her slogan got a lot of play yesterday, since Sizemore whiffed three times.



I have found the one person in the world who does not like Curtis Granderson. Nicole insisted on calling him Traitor throughout the game, despite my protests that he didn't ask to be traded. She wished a lousy performance on poor little CJ, with mixed results. Curtis was one for three, with a single, walk and a strikeout. I felt bad for Grandy. He didn't really deserve to be bad-mouthed like that.



Boesch had himself quite a day at the plate, single, home run, three RBI. He also reached base on one of the THREE Yankee errors. Funny stuff. I take anything the other team gives me. Sloppy play? Yes, I take it. If you want to turn the game into bush league stuff, I am happy to oblige.

Burnett had a no-hitter going into the sixth, but we promptly jinxed it up by mentioning it loudly and repeatedly, and generally acting like idiots. It worked, so don't question our methods. Thank you. We did fool a guy sitting next to us. He looked over and asked if we were Yankee fans. We laughed and said no. He later realized we were serious fans and discussed some baseball matters with us. He and his girlfriend left early to "beat traffic." Might want to just catch it on FSN next time, my friends. Why bother hauling it all the way to park to bail before the game is over? I'm sorry. That's stupid.


Kid Rick was not at his best, but managed to eke a quality start out of it, and Jim Leyland ran him out there for the seventh after he had already thrown 106 pitches! I was agape, and terrified. It worked out fine, however, and my fears were unwarranted...I guess. The outing ended up with Porcello throwing a career high 120 pitches. /shudders


Finally, some guy dove into the Yankee dugout during the game and was promptly jumped on and pinned down until a phalanx of security arrived to escort the guy to Tigers jail. I've already written once about how Joe Girardi is an emotionless automaton, but Nicole checked ESPN's account of the incident during the game and it said that Girardi did not appear to have much of a reaction. Big surprise. The guy's a droid, I am convinced.

Monday, April 11, 2011

In Which Hand-Wringing Begins in Earnest

So, our offensive impotency is beginning to make me cranky. To be sure, Jim Leyland's addled lineup cards may have something to do with it, but our big boys have been up in clutch situations and failed to produce. Now, my brow furrows, my face darkens, and a funk settles down over my household.

Well I can see I am just going to have to stop fretting and do something about this situation myself. Tomorrow, I am heading down to Comerica Park. I will be there as the gates open. I will align myself with the baseball gods during batting practice. You can put me down now as guaranteeing a win. Yes, I am tempting fate, but how could she be any worse to us than she's been so far?? I am going to will us to win tomorrow. Sheer will, folks. That's what I bring to the table. Well, that and a whole lot of frenzied screaming.

Jim Leyland can bat Will Rhymes leadoff again tomorrow if he wants to, but I stand by my guarantee. He can drop Peralta down in the lineup again, even though he's been hitting the ball very well. We are going to win. He can run Brad Thomas out there for all I care. Put tomorrow's game in the W column. Brad Penny is tomorrow's starter for sobbing out loud, and here I am making a covenant with victory.

In case you doubt my powers, I have an excellent track record. Last year, the Tigers went 9-3 in games I attended. The year before, they won 18 of 22. Clearly, I am a charmed individual. I will turn this ship around. You have my word on it.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Will Kirk GIbson Be the Next Manager of the Tigers?

I'm not trying to push Jim Leyland out of town here, but I just wonder if Gibby might be his successor. Today, Gibson announced that he's donated a bunch of memorabilia from the 1988 World Series to his foundation. The items will be auctioned off, and Gibson's foundation benefits two Michigan high schools and Michigan State University. Included in the memorabilia are the bat, helmet and uniform used to in Gibson's historic 1988 World Series game 1 homer. According to an article by Jason Beck, Gibby plans to hold onto his Tigers memorabilia, for now. In referring to the Tigers items, Gibson said, "I just have my reasons. We'll just leave it at that."

You know what? I think those reasons are that the 1984 Tigers, and the Tigers in general are very dear to Gibson's heart. He's from Michigan, he came up in the Tigers system, he's lived here forever. I know for a fact that his feelings were very hurt when he and the rest of Trammell's staff were rather unceremoniously dumped in 2005. I heard him in an interview on sports talk radio last year. At one point, GIbson admitted something like he hadn't been following the Red Wings, and the host joked that maybe Gibson would lose his Michigan card over that one. Gibson retorted that he thought he'd already lost it. He was no doubt referencing the 2005 ouster. It was a raw deal for Tram, Gibby and the rest of the crew. They were brought into a losing proposition, and management knew it. The team was garbage. They needed something to improve the gate, to garner some good pub. Well, the Bless You Boys from 1984 fit the bill. Tram was underexperienced and proved himself unable to handle a big league clubhouse. Gibson had no coaching experience, while Lance Parrish had spent some time coaching in the minor leagues and with the Tigers previously.

Things are different now. Gibson has spent the past years as bench coach for the Arizona Diamondbacks. This year, after the mid-season firing of A.J. Hinch, Gibson was named interim manager. I hoped the team would give him a fair shot at retaining the job. Indeed they did, removing the interim from his job title for the 2011 season. I was very happy for Gibson to get the opportunity to manage. I will follow him with interest, and with an eye toward the future.

Like I said, I think Gibson is hanging onto to the Tigers stuff because it's still close to his heart. I think he would jump at the chance to manage the Tigers. Nostalgia notwithstanding, I hope he gets to make that leap. I think he'll make a fine manager. He's fiery, a good motivator, and is very committed to anything he sets out to do. Kirk Gibson, Detroit Tigers Manager. That has a very satisfying ring to it.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Wrapped Up in a Bow

I've got to revel in the little things here. As a special little birthday gift to me, the Tigers managed to put one in the W column today. I realize it's one win. I realize we may not get another one for a week or more. But, it's better than a loss on day of my birth, you know? I accept this little offering. It's a nice gesture. Ryan Raburn parked one in the bullpen just for me today. What? You don't think so? Really? Huh. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Justin Verlander once again piled up the pitches to the tune of 119 pitches over six innings. Sigh. But he kept runs off the board. He knew he couldn't give away a whole truckload of runs, because our offense is, um, impotent. Then I had to sternly warn Ryan Perry to do his job when he walked two. He listened to me. Again you doubt? Get over it.

Jose Valverde continues to be inconsistent when he has to pitch more than one inning. I wish we had some other trustworthy arm, but Leyland is severely limited in his choices. He doesn't trust, and I don't blame him. A lot of guys have proven themselves to be gas cans, incapable of stranding inherited runners. I'm going to stop now so I don't ruin the good vibes from our little victor's party.

I strongly advise you to relish this moment as long as possible. Another opportunity may not be right around the corner.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Beyond the Pale

Apparently, the Tigers are in a place so dark, they are beyond the usual help I am able to provide. Ordinarily, I can boost the team to victory whenever I attend. Today, my powers were ineffective. Sadly. Heart-breakingly.

Mark Kotsay. You are loathsome. I realize that Jim Leyland's wife thinks you are hot, but you remain an anathema to me. A home run and a triple? Four RBI? Are you serious? Sigh.

Ryan Raburn nearly brought us out of the depths by swatting a three-run homer with two outs in the 9th inning to tie things up. How I ask you, Tigers, how could you squander this thing of beauty?

Valverde only threw 10 pitches in the tenth. It was ok that he went out there for the eleventh. And then, things went horrifically awry. Valverde gave up two singles. The guy in front of me said they needed to pull Valverde. I said maybe he could get a double play ball. You know what happened next. Mark freaking Kotsay hit a two-run triple. All the joy of the ninth inning was quickly sapped away. We'd need two runs in the bottom of the eleventh just to tie it up again. We went out 1-2-3.

The Tigers now trail Chicago by nine games...beyond the pale.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

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.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

A Game Was Won and Other Nonsense

In the fourth inning of today’s game, Austin Jackson hit a soft ground ball right back to pitcher Ricky Romero. It was as sure an out any, yet Jackson ran down the line as if he sniffed an infield hit. He was thrown out easily, but I was impressed by Jackson’s hustle. Now, some might say work smarter not harder, meaning Jackson should have jogged down the line, because in case of an error, he would still have time to make it to first safely. I think young Jackson just has an all-out mentality, which is impossible not to admire. He shows us every night that he never gives up on a ball. Many times, I’ve thought he had no shot at getting to a ball, and he has proven me wrong more often than not. A lot of people have joked about how Jackson has put Curtis Granderson out of the minds of Detroit fans. It’s hard to argue that he hasn’t. He’s played defense way above expectations, and his hitting has been fantastic too, if overshadowed a little by fellow rookie Brennan Boesch. I grant you his batting average on balls in play (BABIP) is outrageous and unsustainable, but if he cuts down on strikeouts as that number comes back to earth, he’ll be ok.

Sigh. In the bottom of the seventh, Rod Allen warns that if Leyland sends Worth and Jackson strikes out, he’s a dead duck at second. Moments later the warning is unheeded and we have a strike ‘em out, throw ’em out double play on our hands. Sigh. Mike Rogers could pretty easily revive his Fire Jim Leyland blog right now. I guess he’s too busy over at Bless You Boys, but just sayin’.

Well, all’s well that ends well here today as Papa Grande got the save, and got right back on the hill after the wildness that characterized last night’s outing—an outing calculated to give us all nightmares. Thank you Big Potato for showing us that was just an anomaly. WHEW.

In the Fox post-game show, Ryan Fields interviewed Miguel Cabrera. He asked Miggy how he continues to come through in the clutch. The Puma played the humble hero’s role, deflecting the praise, giving credit instead to teammates for getting on base in those big situations, and saying how they all have to work together to get it done. Adorable. And I really don’t get why people whine about a big language barrier with Miguel. I speak virtually no Spanish, and I understood him perfectly. Sure, there’s an accent, but if you just listen a smidge more carefully than usual, you’ll be fine. I like when it’s not just Brandon Inge in the post game interviews.

Finally, I must protest against stupidity. Someone on sports talk radio was talking about acquiring Adam Dunn and moving Miggy to third. Are you a moron? Miguel has shown he just doesn't have it at third. He plays very well at first. He's a legitimate triple crown candidate. And you want to mess with this???? Please, go away. Stay away from my Tigers. Go become a Milwaukee Brewers fan, would you?

Monday, June 14, 2010

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.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

And Our Hero Drives Off into the Sunset in His New Convertible

But there's no happily ever after to this story. It's not a fairy tale. It's real life. Real life with grown men crying.

Jim Joyce was in tears as Armando Galarraga delivered the today's lineup card. Jim Leyland was in tears (and sunglasses) as he spoke pridefully about the Detroit fans and how they handled this whole debacle.

Armando Galarraga was all smiles as he was presented with a red Corvette convertible from Chevrolet, in lieu of being presented with a perfect game by Major League Baseball. He defied all logic, and was genuinely sanguine.

I'm trying to move on, really I am. I'm trying to be gracious, and follow the example set by Galarraga. But it's a little hard letting go. It's a little hard to see a thing of beautiful perfection snatched away so cruelly. It makes it more difficult to "relax, relate, release." By the way, if you can correctly identify the source of that little quote, you win the Old English D grand prize...to be revealed to the winner...at a time to be determined.

Anyhoo, I guess this post just serves to let the world know that it still stings, it still has me reeling, despite all the feel-good vibes of sportsmanship, dignity, class, honor and whatever other mumbo jumbo people are using to try to gloss over the pain. Deep down, it doesn't make it better. Deep down, I still want to hurl.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Just What You Wanted to Hear

More on the Carlos Guillen soap opera.  Well, I'm not going to rehash what's already been said well elsewhere.  You can check out the Detroit Tigers Weblog, Bless You Boys and Mack Avenue Tigers for that.

My theory is that aging players have difficulty coming to terms with an erosion of their defensive skill set.  They cannot see it clearly or objectively at all.  It's not surprising.  These are premier athletes who have "yes" men stationed around them at convenient intervals.  Remember Sheff claiming he was more than capable of playing the field, and we're all like, yeah, right, one false move and your 40-year old tendons will rupture like flimsy rubber bands.

I saw Patrick Ewing play a game at the Palace during his last year in the NBA.  He looked like a dinosaur, and his knees were so heavily braced had no lateral movement at all.  Please don't get me started on a certain player who now wears purple in the NFL.  We understand that it's hard to let go.

I like Carlos.  A lot.  He's been a great leader on and off the field (I especially liked his insight into the feeling many Latin players have that MLB could just ship them back home if they make waves, his work to get the Venezuelan WBC team shaped up, and the way he used to have a few calming words for rattled pitchers when he played short).  I'm not sure why he didn't settle this internally before coming to the media.  Maybe he tried and got the brush off, who knows.  He obviously had frustration building for some time, and that can lead to eruptions that are later regretted.  I'm not going to brand him a malcontent just yet, because he's earned my respect over the years as a gutty team player.

Hopefully, he can stay healthy and earn the role he wants on the team.  By the same token, he should be able to accept a gradual shift in that role and playing time as health and skills dictate.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Putting the Screws to Zach Miner

I have been questioning a perception I hold about Zach Miner. My thinking was that he doesn’t perform that well under pressure. I decided to be fair to him and take a look at the numbers. Baseball Reference has this cool stat known as aLI, Average Leverage Index. It measures the pressure a pitcher is under in a given outing. The stat uses 1.0 as average pressure. Anything below that is low pressure, anything above it is high pressure. I’m also going to look at inherited runners that came around to score when Miner entered a game (because inherited runners that score make me want to break things).

It's been well-publicized that Zach pitched 12 scoreless innings before the fateful October 6 outing in which he allowed 2 earned runs and also earned the ire of many fans. I'm not hanging the loss on him by any means. It just got me thinking when many questioned Leyland's choosing him to relieve Porcello. The twelve innings in which he put up zeros came over eight outings. Of those eight, four had an aLI of over 1.0. In that same span, he only had two inherited runners. They both came from the outing on September 29 vs. Minnesota, and neither of those runners scored.

Let's look at his season in total. Zack pitched 17 outings in which he inherited runners. Of 28 runners inherited, 10 eventually scored for a total of 36%. As far as knowing whether that's good or not, the only data I could find was this older chart from Baseball Reference in 2007. It showed the top 25 in inherited runners scoring percentage. The minimum was 80% relief appearances and 20 inherited runners (with a funny reference to Kyle Farnsworth, so click over). Tops was .05 , and the 25th ranking guy in the league was at .21.

With regard to pitching under pressure, Miner had 21 appearances in which the aLI was over 1.0. In the five most pressure packed outings, he fared pretty well. Here's a brief summary of those:

Game H R BB aLI

6/24 1 1 1 2.68

8/1 2 1 0 3.38

8/22 2 1 0 2.87

9/3 0 0 1 2.30

9/5 2 0 0 3.31

Overall, Miner performed better under the gun than I had anticipated. His strand rate is not the best, so lets just bring him in at the beginning of an inning from now on, shall we?

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Walking Away Empty-Handed

When the game-winning run crossed the plate for the Twins on Tuesday, here's how I felt in the following moments. "He felt something cold and soulless enter him like another being and he imagined that it smiled malignly and he had no reason to believe it would ever leave." (Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses) A little hyperbolic perhaps, but a true enough representation.

Now, I’m finally in a frame of mind to put a coda to this season. Well, maybe not all the way there, but coping well enough to write without spewing incomprehensible garbage all over the place. Yes, I believe I do have what psychologists might term an “unhealthy emotional relationship” with Tiger baseball. Admitting you have a problem IS the first step you know. I may yet determine that abstinence is the only treatment for addiction, and begin following rhythmic gymnastics or race-walking. Twirling ribbons and gait-policing is where it’s at.

Yesterday was black, and I had to stay away from all media. All I saw after the end of Game 163 was the interview with Orlando Cabrera. Then I had to go underground for a little bit. I didn’t see any post-game pressers, didn’t watch one minute of ESPN, banned reading of newspapers and blogs, and most definitely stayed far away from sports radio. A friend let me vent a little via text. Thanks for saving innocent people from blasts of misdirected rage. Last evening, I gingerly tested the waters by clicking on the Tigers web site, and reading a couple blogs—in small doses, mind you.

I’ve always maintained that I’m not superstitious. That goes out the window as of right now. I’ve now twice had post-season tickets go unused. In 2006, I had tickets to World Series Game 6. I still break out into a pathetic blend of maniacal laughter and sobs when I think about that. This year, I foolishly purchased ALDS Game 3 tickets off the Tiger web site the day they went on sale. Never again. I vow to scalp tickets at outlandish prices from now on and stop jinxing my team. You have my word on that.

On Tuesday, some irrevocable commitments kept me from watching the game right at 5:00, so I DVRed the game and started watching it around 6:00. At that point, I had to put myself in a bubble and stay away from the computer and not read the texts that kept arriving at my cell phone. I had no idea the journey I was in for. I kept thinking I’d catch up to real time at some point. Then panic set in as I actually had to contemplate that I might run out of “tape” since I had set the recording for a total of six hours.

As to the game itself, it was incredible. I don’t take any issue with my team or its effort. Both teams battled like Titans. MLB must’ve been giddy over this contest.

Whining about the officiating is strictly verboten here. I saw plenty the Twins could have argued over in Marsh’s strike zone, and they did get a little chippy here and there. I will say that I believe he should have appealed on the Inge HBP, because his sight line was not good on the play. But to point to any one play and hang the game on it? No way. We had our chances and could not come through, creating a fitting microcosm of our whole season neatly wrapped up in the final game. I hate excuses.

I will call out Jim Leyland for leaving Rodney out there in the 12th. I don’t care if he asked for the ball. He had performed his job, and very well, but had already pitched 2 2/3 innings. No way he goes back out there. Sure, he’s the best person to close out a game, but he stops being that best person after he’s thrown 48! pitches. It’s not like we were completely out of options in the bullpen and were ready to start warming up a position player. I realize some of those options were not what you’d want for the situation at hand. Still.

The main source fueling my anger is our stretch-run play. Non-play is more like it. It was so horrific the only descriptor I have is schrecklich. Sorry to go other language on you, but that’s the best expression of my angst. We lost 4 of 6 to the Sox in the last week of the season. When the Sox acquired Jake Peavy in the final moments before the July 31 trade deadline, I knew it was going to haunt us. Everyone shot me down, saying “Peavy’s injured,” “Who knows when he’ll pitch again.” Well, he didn’t come back in time to help Chicago’s playoff cause, but he sure put a crunk in ours. Two shutouts. Blanked us twice in week’s time. GAHHHHH!

Maybe my anger is just a blustery front to cover up the brokenness inside. Maybe I need to face up to it and go have a little cry in a dark room somewhere, so I can come out and let go. Life’s hard without baseball.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Reprieve

Our boys of summer live to see another day. Mind you, it's a day in the Metrodome, but another day nonetheless. I was having a hard time shaking off the feeling that I was heading to a funeral today. The skies were gray and overcast, and clouds dark with portent threatened to open up at any moment. I rode the Nemo's bus down to the CoPa, and a lady helped me get into a more appropriate game-day mindset. She high fived me, talked up our Tigers, patted me on the back, and gave me some fist bumps. Thank you Jamie for the pep talk!

Ryan Raburn showed up with his big boy britches on today, and swatted two homers to left. Leyland's gonna be wishing he'd played him some more down the stretch here. He got a couple of really nice ovations from the left-field stands as he went back to the field. Kudos, young man.

Mi Magglio went 4 for 4, with a double and a home run, WOOOOOOOOOOOO! Batting Average now stands at .309. Take that y'all naysayers. Do you think we'd even be in a one-game playoff right now without him? No. We would not. Go apologize to him.

Curtis Granderson saved the game for us in the top of the 8th. Holy cow, that ball was coming down, and I didn't think there was any way Curtis was going to get to it. That circus-catch-diving-grab sent the crowd into hysterics. Glad I wore my discreet urinary protection garments. Whew.

Rodney gets a four-out save, giving us a nice non-ulcer inducing 9th. Thank you, 'nando. Not sure if we could handled any drama today.

OK. Now Pretty Little Ricky gets a chance to be a hero at the Metrodump on Tuesday. I'll be needing a full support group to watch this game. Help.






Cough, Choke, Gag (Sniff, Tear, Sob)

Well, all I can say is, I didn't sleep well last night. I was having a recurring nightmare that we didn't make the playoffs. Oh, wait, that was just reality staring me in the face.

We now know how the Mets fans felt during their historic collapse. It's a scary feeling, I can confirm that.

I know, you say we're not out of it yet. We have Verlander going today. The Twins may pull a choke job of their own and lose to Hochevar today. Yeah, right.

My feeling is just that if we can't handle our own business, we can't rely on someone else to help us out. We failed miserably in the handle our own business department over the past three games.

I feel like the pressure is so great now, many horrible things could go wrong today. It's not that I don't have faith in my team, but I'm scared--really scared for today's game.

I'm going to today's game, so my fears will be played out in technicolor before my eyes on the field.

I know Leyland said yesterday that there is no need for motivational speeches in the pros. If these guys don't know what's at stake and how to get ready for it, there's a big, fat unsolvable problem. However, I now believe Leyland should go for the "win one for the Gipper" type speech today. Tell the guys he didn't want them to know, but he has lung cancer from all the Marlboro Reds. He's only got three months to live. He won't make it to next season, so let's win one now fellas. It could work, right?

Well, I've got to go prepare myself for battle. I must arm myself properly with my Ordóñez jersey. I must assume a hopeful, happy expression. That won't be easy.


Friday, October 2, 2009

Cringe-tastic!

I had such good feelings at the beginning of yesterday's finale with the Twinks. We had some great defensive plays (even one by Magglio!) that told me our guys were zoned in on clinching. So much for that.

During the rather strange unraveling of yesterday's game, rife with hit batters, retaliations and ejections, my constant thought was, "Don't do anything to get yourself suspended!" My hands frequently went up to my head as if to protect myself from possible brain explosion lest somebody do something rash that would have disastrous consequences. I'm sure it was in everyone's mind, as the dugouts and bullpens emptied harmlessly, with people in seeming slow motion toward each other. No one was rushing to throw a punch or anything, but it still made me nervous, because people who are angered can make some very unwise decisions in the heat of the moment, you know? When Marcus Thames bored holes through Scott Baker with his eyes, I was very, very concerned. Also, did you notice Miguel Cabrera getting REALLY chippy with the first base umpire? I had to plead with him to keep his head and not get tossed. He heard me, surely. That's because we met in Chicago and now have telepathic powers.

I knew when I was at the game Wednesday that Angel Hernandez would be Thursday's home plate umpire. I smelled trouble right away. Players tend to take issue with his strike zone, and that leads to frustration building up, tempers flaring, all kinds of bad, bad things. So, when Santiago was called out for leaving to early on a tag-up, I could see it all coming. Again, I'm imploring Leyland not to bump Hernandez. Sheesh, it's all a little too much stress for a fan to handle.

OK, Edwin, show us what you got tonight. We're all behind you.


Saturday, July 4, 2009

A Five Inning Game

Just kidding, but it was for me, because that's all I saw: innings twelve through sixteen. We spent the afternoon and evening at the park, stayed for fireworks, and made it home a little before midnight. Imagine my surprise (and delight) to see that the game was still on thanks to extras.

Now, I'm not delighted that we used every single arm in our pen (and watched Galarraga warm up too), but I am delighted that I got to see some Tiger baseball, and that we came out on the winning end of that marathon. Sounds like I missed a stellar outing by Zumaya--good, he needed that. I also missed French's debut, blowing of a six-run lead, a meltdown by Zach Miner, home runs by Thames and Laird, Jim Leyland walking Mauer and Morneau to load the bases in the 11th, and it working, you know--11 innings worth of ball.

I'm sorry to say I did see Polanco take a ball of his package--wince, cringe. He was either none the worse for wear, or angry, because he proceeded to get two RBIs after that to help us on to victory.

Well, we made that victory a lot more difficult than it should have been, but it is a win, and it kept the White Sox from gaining, so that's always a good thing. But now, day game today at the Metrodump. Hmmm, if we could win another there it would be nothing short of incredible. We've come to see wins there as such a rarity, that losses neither surprise nor anger us especially. But winning a series there, now that would be something, wouldn't it? So come on boys, rally 'round Polanco's package and take at least two of three from the Twinks at the dome.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Rick Decides Good Pitching Not Enough

The Rookie, in dramatic fashion, decides to add the element of offense to his repertoire, driving in TWO, count them, two runs on two separate at bats, both hits. The young phenom went seven innings tonight--deep considering they've got the kid gauntlets on for the young fella. We're continually reminded by Leyland of the promises he made to DD to protect and watch over Pretty Little Ricky, to make sure his arm is not over-worked, burnt out or otherwise damaged. All of this is good, to be sure. It can get a bit comical and over the top at times, though.

Porcello, during his moments in the dugout when not pitching or hitting, ponders the late offensive slump. He calculates, and determines that if he wants the W today, he's going to have to do more than just pitch well. It's going to take a super-human effort, one that includes hits and RBIs. This is a kid who has never had a major league at bat, people!

What a night for the young whipper-snapper. I don't care that none of this post is original. I don't care that everyone will be lavishing him with the same praise. It's deserved, it's noteworthy, it's Rick Porcello--one man show! Actually Placido Polanco went 4 for 4, Brandon Inge hit a solo shot, and Fernando Rodney looked pretty good getting the save, so there were other contributions.

But this is his night to shine, so burn bright Rick!