No No Redux

Justin Verlander.

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.

Justin Verlander's No Hitter

In homage to the Tigers' DVD voting contest for "Essential Games of the Detroit Tigers," I am relating my experiences from a couple of the featured games.  Today, it's Justin Verlander's no hitter.

To begin with, I never should have been at that game.  I had already purchased a gazillion tickets and it was only June.  Second, it was a Tuesday night game (although, to be honest, I like going to games during the week).  So, I was sitting at my computer one morning, and I received a new email.  Oh joy, it was a Detroit Free Press free stuff thank you e-mail (sent to subscribers every so often, and featuring fun freebies like tickets to area events, Caribou coffees, etc.).  Well, lo and behold, one of the offerings was two tickets to an upcoming Tigers game.  Naturally, my fingers flew like the wind as I made my selection and sent it through cyberspace.  You have to wait a while to find out if you were one of the "first to respond," as they only had ten pair of tickets available.

Fate smiled on me, and my tickets soon arrived in the mail--infield upper deck box, 16th row, third base side.  My mom was coming into to town, so I invited her to join me at the game.  Little did we know that we were about to experience a piece of baseball history.

I'll spare you the play by play, since you know what happened, but we began to witness Justin hurling some filthy stuff.   The Brewers were hacking away like Florida Southern against our Big League club each spring (no disrespect FS).  The fun stuff was Verlander walking the same guy three times (Hall), Magglio's sliding catch, Neifi Perez' wicked double play turn, and the nefarious sea-gulls, who flew in to gobble up hatchling moths.

I started to get really nervous, in fact, my stomach got all tied up in knots, and was aching like nobody's business from the fifth inning until about two hours after the game ended.  In the top of the seventh inning, Justin is pitching y'all, and the section next to ours tries to start the wave.  I wanted to stand up and shout at the top of my lungs, "Don't you know there's a no-hitter in progress here!?" but of course, I couldn't jinx it, so I scowled and grumbled under my breath a little about the oblivious masses at Comerica, who obviously don't know diddly about baseball.

Luckily, moms was there playing shutterbug, so I've got the Kodak moments all glossy, with my scorecard full of zeros, and my ticket stub to enshrine the game with all proper ceremony.   Now, this is a little small of me, I know, but in the days of heartbreak last year when we didn't make the post-season, I downloaded the no-hitter off i-Tunes and watched it, reliving the past glories of that game.