The Trauma Chronicles

Sigh. Joel Zumaya has been moved to the 60 day disabled list. The only good news here is that a spot on the 40-man roster is freed up. Poor Zoom is simply doomed to be hurt....all...the...time. It would be so wrenching to see him join Mark Fidrych in the hall of fabulous flameouts. I hope that doesn't happen to Joel. He might not handle it as well as The Bird did. Not many would.

Carlos Guillen has NOT resumed baseball activities. Thank you for that bit of disheartening news, Rick Eymer. I feel like sobbing now. Kevin Rand says he's working on strength and movement, and IS NOT READY for baseball activities. I guess it's not surprising. A much younger Grady Sizemore had microfracture surgery in June and is just now coming back. Carlos just had surgery in mid-September 2010. Also, to put everyone further into a dark cloud, is Carlos going to have the lateral movement needed to play second base when he is cleared to return???? Think of the young gun Scott Sizemore coming off ankle surgery last year. He could not move right. What makes us think that Guillen, who is old in baseballian years, can do better?

Ryan Perry is recovering from a strange eye infection and secondary corneal damage (due to him rubbing his eye like a two-year old). A course in fundamental medical principles should be required for our ball players, people. They have plenty of down time during travel. Just hire someone to do presentations on the team plane. Be sure to follow up with quizzes, and require passing grades. Anyone who fails will not be permitted to partake of team subsidized snacks during games. That's right, no giant gum balls, no sunflower seeds, no Big League Chew. Yeah, I'm one tough cookie.

Victor Martinez has a gimpy groin and will not catch tonight, for sure, says Skip. Possible DH. Um, yeah, I would think that squatting with a bad groin would be......a very delicate matter. Let us hope together with all our collective powers that this is not a lingering thing.

Magglio Ordóñez' ankle fills up with fluid periodically, and is often sore-ish. These things make me very uncomfortable. This is my Tiger. I want him to excel always. His defense is already oft maligned. Now his ankle is very sensitive and prone to being irritated. No. Not. Good.

I would like to encourage the establishment of a M.B.S.H. unit for our Tigers. They appear to need it very much. Besides, I always loved Hawkeye and Trapper.

A Girl Gets Desperate

I'm not all aflutter about the Yankees or the Phillies being in the World Series. There will be no rooting for either of these teams. In fact, my intense abhorrence of the Yankees always waxes, never wanes. However, I am feening for some baseball, and for that reason the World Series will have my full attention.

I'll be watching as an observer. One who loves baseball. One who will soon be without baseball for an extended time. This time will be dark. It may involve coping measures such as watching games from seasons past. I do solemnly swear not to break down and watch the 2006 ALCS Game 4, however. It wouldn't help to watch it now anyway. We didn't make the playoffs this year, and trying to revive some past glory would feel trite and hollow.

I do have in mind to track down a game or two of Mark Fidrych's and watch those. I was a little young when he pitched to really remember. I've mostly seen wacky clips of him smoothing the mound and talking to the ball, and I want to watch a some full-length games.

I'm surprised and disappointed that MLB Network isn't airing some Arizona Fall League games. I'd be all over that. Maybe it will (hope springs eternal) after the World Series is over.

Anyway, just pining away over here 'til Spring. Don't worry about me.

Kitchen Sink

First of all, I must mention that I am in mourning over the loss of Magglio's locks. Clad all in black, I sit in disbelief that he didn't think to consult me before making such a foolhardy move. What, he listened to his wife you say? Well, uh, okay--I guess. I still neither understand nor approve of these goings on. Very, very disturbing. It would be like me donning some under-armor. Very unwise, very unflattering to see fat rolls bunched up like so much sausage. I know better than to do such a thing. I wear fabrics that float away from the body.

Anyway, back to baseball. Joel Zumaya needs to be force-fed some truisms from Bull Durham. Don't think, meat, just throw the ball. Don't shake off the signs. Just lean in, get the sign from your catcher and pitch, Nuke! When you're facing Micah Hoffpauir and you've been blowing the ball past batters to the tune of 103-104 MPH, you just stick with what's working, not serve up an 85 MPH grapefruit over the heart of the plate. Maddening, absolutely mind-swirling stuff. Could we get some career minor league catcher to come up and beat some sense into Zoom here? Just askin'.

Brandon Inge is bucking for a full-out apology from me. He hits homeruns, visits sick children in the hospital. What doesn't he do? I stand by my word, however. I will not issue said apology until the end of the 2009 season, and I see how his numbers stand up. I will say that he is having a year, for him, quite a year indeed, thus far. The rest I reserve until such a time as the Tigers play no more in 2009. Let's just say I hope that it's into November before I have to humble myself and apologize to Brandon.

Alan Trammell is photographed peering through the fence at the ruins of Tiger Stadium, which is now reduced to rubble. Oh, the agony. It made my chest tighten just looking at it. It is very hard to say goodbye. We'll survive on memories of the old girl. Please share them with your family and friends to keep her alive.

In my excitement over talking with some Brewer fans at last Friday night's game, I forgot about a significant happening at the park that night. Mark Fidrych's widow and daughter threw out the ceremonial first pitch. The jumbotron featured a video montage with some rather heart-rending music. In a sincerely touching moment, both women bent over and smoothed out the mound, just as Mark once did. Fidrych's daughter was in tears, and Jim Leyland caught the pitch, then proceeded to envelop both women in a sympathetic embrace. Geez, is everyone conspiring to make a girl cry or what?

Delayed Gratification

Today should have been my first day at the ballpark for the 2009 season.  I was at the park, however briefly, before the postponement was announced.  That only made matters worse--being there, and then being unceremoniously kicked to curb.  Now, some bloggers point out that today's day without ball is a fitting tribute to the great Mark Fidrych.  I would beg to differ and say that it would've been a more appropriate nod to the Bird to have played the game.  

In any event, I wanted to wail with abandon when the PPD was announced.  You know, like when someone ruthlessly snatches a baby's favorite toy, and she just lets loose, no holding back, snot and tears everywhere.  It's gotta be cathartic to just get it all out of your system and move on like that.  I had to quell the tightening in my throat and act like a grown up.  My mood only grew fouler as I boarded the Nemo's bus and sat staring bleakly out the window at the renovated Westin.  My baseball-lingo-challenged husband texted me and thought that postponed meant rain delay.  He finally got the message when I texted back that "PPD means canx, u idiot!"  The aforementioned mood sunk even further as I drove home faced with the steely gray horizon and the unrelenting drizzle.

Into a sullen funk I slid, and there I stay for an indeterminate period.  I don't have tickets to another game until May 4.  Should any crazed Tiger fan have to wait that long to see a game?  I hope you'll agree that it would be a tragedy of immeasurable proportions.  I'll just have to score some Yankees tickets, that's all there is to it.