Available to the Highest (and most cosmopolitan) Bidder

In order to raise money for a very worthy cause--sending yours truly to Tigers ballgames, I am hereby offering at auction, the following treasure:

1 1992 Donruss Kirk Gibson baseball card, pictured below, in all its powder blue glory, graded pristine 23 by JLC Memorabilia.

Yes, I realize it will be a virtual impossibility for me to part with such a gem. However, I am willing to make the sacrifice for the good of the club. I'm very unselfish like that. Remember, the Tigers are unbeaten this year in games I have attended, and went 18-22 in 2009 when I graced them with my presence. So, cash in that certificate of deposit, raid (ahem, I mean temporarily borrow from) your child's college fund, sell your hair, gather returnables from trash cans in local parks, whatever it takes. Really. I mean it. Just think about the return you'll get on this investment.

In addition, consider the public service you will be doing by keeping something as wrong as Kirk Gibson in Royals blue out of the hands of those who might wish to abuse it.

I apologize that I am unable to accept personal checks. Money order, Paypal, cashier's checks, gold bullion, rare gemstones (no blood diamonds, please) and information that could be used to humiliate, torture or blackmail Rogo of Designate Robertson are all welcome currency.

A Watched Pot...

Every time I click on the Tigers web site, the stinking countdown to Opening Day stares me in the face. It does not seem to be moving toward Opening Day at a rate I can bear. I am done with these Spring Training affairs. They are meaningless and stupid at this point in March. I'm ready for REAL baseball. Seven more days? I'm expected to wait seven whole days more to witness regular season ball?

To make matters worse, we open on the road, and the Opening Day game has first pitch going at 4:10 pm. Not the familiar 1:05, or even an acceptable 2:05, but four-freaking-ten. Even in Kansas City, you'd think an earlier start time would be preferable in early April. Whatever.

Who is going to the home opener? I am not, but I am going on Saturday, April 10 and Monday April 12. If either of those gets rained out, expect a tirade here. I kid, but I was in a huge funk last year when my first game got PPD. In 1997, I attended a frigid opener at Tiger Stadium. It was in the low 30s and the concrete beneath my boots turned my feet into ice chunks. I sent the husband out to get some hot chocolate, in hopes of warming my hands and insides. It was stone cold by the time he got back to our seats. Nice. I'm prepared for any weather, as long as the game gets played.

I have begun my daily rendition of the Opening Day Song. My family is already begging me to stop. Too bad. They've got to wait seven more days, just like I do.

Hey, I Had the Broom Out for Nothing!

For some odd reason, I was sure we were going to pull out the win today. Not that I was getting greedy, I just had a feeling. Guess I'd better be glad I'm not the gambling type.

A consoling thought occurs to me (Sox & Twins also lost), but doesn't really take hold.

Guess I'll try to bask in the waning afterglow of Friday's fireworks (literal and figurative).

I'm a little steamed at Ryan Raburn's two errors in one inning at the hot corner, but he isn't responsible for all of the runners stranded, squandered, left on base to scorch in the August sun.

However, considering that Galarraga's been puking his guts out the past week with a horrible illness, losing 10 pounds, and becoming as weak as a newborn kitten, his outing was a bright spot in this loss.

Also, Granderson appears to be OK after making a terrific catch and body-slamming the wall. I was cringing and fretting for a bit there. His bell got rung pretty good.

Actually, when I think back on the absolute jewels twirled by Verlander and Washburn this week, I cannot help but smile and be happy. Baseball is so much fun when you're winning. Here's hoping we're still watching winning baseball in October.

Saluting the Umpire

Rod and Mario brought to our attention a rather interesting little spectacle during today's Memorial Day rout of Kansas City.  Justin Verlander pitched seven scoreless frames for the Tigers.  Before he went into the clubhouse to hit the showers, he stood at the front of the dugout and waited until he could get home plate umpire Paul Emmel's attention.  He then gave him a little salute to acknowledge the good job the ump did in today's contest.  It struck me as a little odd.  It was like giving some of the credit to the ump for making favorable calls.  It was pantomime for "Hey Mr. Umpire, thank you for calling the strike on outside corner today.  I hope this acknowledgement will induce you to have a generous strike zone the next time you're behind the plate."  However, Rod and Mario said this little pitcher/umpire interaction is becoming more commonplace.  So maybe it's more of a courtesy, but it caught me off guard, nonetheless.

I guess you'd have to say the Royals disagreed with the assertion that the ump was doing a good job.  In the bottom of the eighth, there was a called third strike on Willie Bloomquist that appeared a tad low.  Trey Hillman then proceeded to get ejected for arguing balls and strikes.  It's all a matter of perspective.  From a Tiger fan's vantage point, this game was a beauty.  Sorry Royals.

Tigers Stand at 6-3 in Divisional Tussle

Remember when I said we needed to win this 13 game stretch against divisional opponents?  So far, pretty good.   We're 6-3, and it was especially gratifying to complete a sweep of the Tribe today, regardless of the fact that they've been playing poorly.

Although Pretty Little Ricky didn't have his best control today, I liked how he got some big outs when he needed them, and gritted it out to complete five innings.  Our pen needed some work anyway (glass half full).

Fernando Rodney shows us again that he only wants to be used in save situations.  These non-savers are clearly not for him.  The mental edge is not present in a 5-1 game.  He works to simulate a save situation.  That's why he gave up two runs, so he'd feel like he could be in "closer" mode (even though a non-save situation does not convert into a save situation when the lead drops to three runs or less.)  Thanks to Blake of The Spot Starters for confirming that little fact for me a few weeks ago. 

Now, off day tomorrow as the club travels to the Twin Cities for the finale of this little intra-divisional skirmish.  I like being in first place--even if it is shared with the Royals (technically we are four hundredths ahead of them).

Homecoming

Break out the formal wear, it's homecoming.  I'll be donning my ball gown and wrist corsage to see game 1 against the yanks tomorrow.  Would that be out of place at the ballpark?

Well, I'm happy to say that we took 2 of 3 from the Royals after losing 2 of 3 to the Angels--that series was not pretty.

My main note from today was a nifty square and throw from Sardinha to nip CoCo Crisp at second.  Very nicely done.  Our catchers are clamping down on the base-runners.  I like that.  His light-hittingness even got an RBI today on a sac fly.  Rod Allen said Sardinha's nickname was pineapple.  It sounded kind of sterotype-ish to me.  Let's start calling the Latin players taco.   

I was wondering about young Dusty Ryan, so I peeked at his numbers.  He's struggling a little at that plate, batting .175 over 40 at bats with the Hens so far.  I guess they just want him to get his reps in at the lower-pressured level.  Probably not a bad idea.

Right now, the Red Sox are poised to sweep the Yankees, so I hope they don't come into our house will all kinds of pent-up, angry energy that inspires them to kick our tails around.

Going To Kansas City, Kansas City Here We Come

Rick Porcello is learning on the job.  He's brilliant at times, and at other moments folks are putting the ball out of the park.  That's ok.  We've got to let him grow at a natural pace, however much we want/need to win ball games.  I'm not going to scapegoat Porcello, that's for sure.  I had a bad feeling about tonight's game after learning that last night's game was not a day game on a travel day from Pacific time to Central time (and on whom in MLB scheduling can I practice some of those "enhanced interrogation techniques" we've been hearing about)?  The team plane wasn't due to touch down in KC until around 4:30 am, so um, that's not good for the internal body clock.  I know that Porcello travelled ahead of the club, so he for one, did get a decent night's sleep, but when the rest of team is all bleary-eyed, using caffeine and who knows what else as a crutch to stay awake, it's not necessarily going to be pretty.

Once again, my DVR efforts went awry.  I was doing other things, saving the game for later, while my husband was watching the NBA playoffs.  In glancing at the basketball game, I saw the *&@#! bottom line thing, and the Royals/Tigers score flashed by (5-1 at that point).   I stomped out of the room in anger, with my husband calling after me that it wasn't his fault.  I conceded this point with as much equanimity as I could muster.  That is IT, I will have to start watching games live, or just pick them up in progress.  I've utterly failed in attempts to record and watch games later.  It's a shame that I'm not able to take advantage of the technological wonder of DVR, but I'm just going to accept it.

Greinke was absolutely dealing--with Tiger after Tiger hacking away like Charles Barkley swinging at a golf ball--striking out the side in the 8th in spectacular jaw-dropping fashion (and making my stomach churn in the process).  Yeah, it's so worth staying up until 1 am to watch this, oh is it ever.  It'll be a long time before I'll be able to fall asleep after this waking nightmare--expected or not.   Like Gary Sheffield after a HBP, I vow revenge on Greinke for embarrassing my club this way.   If anyone wants to know where to find me, I'll be lurking around Kauffman Stadium awaiting the perfect opportunity.

Friday Night Frights

To shine a spotlight on the pathetic nature of my life, I'm going to admit that at 8:30 on a Friday night, I was watching ESPN's Baseball Tonight special Hot Stove Roundtable.  Sadly, I had nothing better to do.  I could say that it was so early, my evening just hadn't begun yet, but that would be pure fiction.  I could claim that I recorded it for later viewing--another falsehood.  I watched it live.  Did I mention it's a Friday night?  Let's move on from this piercing exposé of my lackluster social life.

The panel included a bunch of ESPN baseball big-timers--Buster Olney, Tim Kurkjian, Peter Gammons, Steve Phillips--and was hosted by Carl Ravech.

One part of the discussion was particularly interesting to me.  Youth and talent over experience.  They pointed out the Rays' run from last year, and the trend that teams are getting younger, and prizing draft picks--reluctant to sign type A free agents.   Peter Gammons said that Kansas City has spent more money on the draft in the past year (or it may have been the past two years) than ANY OTHER TEAM in MLB.

Where does that leave the Tigers?  Let's take a quick look-see at the ages of our probable starting lineup (I'm listing the age they'll be on their birthday this year):

Laird - 29

Cabrera - 25

Polanco - 34

Everett - 32

Inge - 32

Guillen - 34

Granderson - 28

Ordóñez - 35

Sheffield - 41

That's a whopping average of 28.7 years.  Not exactly a fountain of youth, with only three of nine in their twenties.  We've certainly got some youngsters on the bench and within the pitching staff, where Nate Robertson and Fernando Rodney are the elders, both turning 32 this year.  Despite the youth of the pitching staff, several within that group are hopeful come-back stories in the making.

We've traded away one promising young talent in Matt Joyce this off-season.  By the way, one of the commentators specifically mentioned that trade as very good for the Rays.  Oh joy, another trade over which we may lament for years to come!

I think I'll leave off that topic now as it's beginning to be a bit nauseating, and youth alone does not a championship win.

One other note from the show, and something that I find to be annoying in no small degree:  the crazed video editing of montages.  A discussion of Manny Ramirez was being introduced, and a dizzying series of images flew past my eyes at a pace that led me to believe I was about to experience a seizure.  The editing was so choppy and the speed of the clips so frenetic, it was impossible to distinguish any one play from another.  Pointless, maddening stuff.  Or wait, maybe the editing was designed to be a commentary on Manny himself???  I fear not--that would be giving far too much credit--and for that reason I rail.