Without a Net

After spelling Alex Avila for one game, the Tigers have sent Omir Santos back across the State line to Toledo. Is anyone else worried about this? If Santos isn't recalled by August 31, we won't have a playoff-eligible backup catcher in the event that Victor's knee doesn't mend. I don't find this to be wise. I don't believe that Brandon Inge's knees can stand up to the rigors of catching, so I don't include him in the catcher discussion. Is Don Kelly your idea of a suitable backup? Bwahahahahahaha. Don't let the fact that he's played all nine positions fool you.

Maybe the Tigers have consulted a psychic (asked Kevin Rand) and they are fully confident that everything will be fine with Victor. I hope so. I hope with all my heart so.

Because, you know what? I'm sprung. I've allowed myself to be infected with playoff fever. I was trying to be all sensible...cautious...guarded. But after we beat the Rays on Tuesday, in a game in which we had Brad Penny (no offense) go up against David Price, in a game in which both Benoit and Valverde were unavailable, in a game in which Phil Coke was not supposed to appear, and in a game in which he was then asked to go two innings and close out the thing, I just lost it.

My heart is now fully invested in making the playoffs. I know. I am a fool. I set myself up for yet another heartache. If the unthinkable happens, no one will be able to deal with me...no one. Sick leave will be taken from work, and you'll find me sitting alone in a dark room, unshowered, wearing the same stanky Tigers t-shirt, muttering incoherently. Not a pretty picture. But true.

So Tigers, you darn well better know what you're doing walking the tightrope without a net. Everything's riding on it. EVERYTHING.

It's Spring Somewhere

Although I spent half an hour trying to get off my (one block) street to go to work this morning, apparently there is spring-like weather in Florida. Hmmm. Can I sell twenty quarts of plasma so I can hop the next plane to Lakeland?

Let us turn our attention to some actual baseball matters in Spring Training, shall we? I don't want to speculate about whether Miguel Cabrera has a drinking problem. I don't want to pretend I'm a substance abuse specialist. I just want to talk about ball.

Who will be playing second base on opening day?

Will Ryan Raburn shake the first-half offensive droughts that seem to haunt him until June?

Will Phil Coke turn into a quality starter, and how many different hair incarnations will he go through?

Will Mi Magglio have a great season?

Will Zumaya make it through the season without an arm implosion?

Will we see Andy Oliver or Jacob Turner in the Old English D this year?

Will Jim Leyland be fined by the State of Michigan for smoking in his workplace?

How many striped polo shirts does Dave Dombrowski own?

These are the burning questions.

Soon, there will be an actual game on TELEVISION! A game in which the Tigers take on another team. I realize this will be a meaningless spring contest in which Tigers regulars log one or two at bats, but I DO NOT CARE! Tune in to ESPN on March 3 at 1:05. (I don't have MLB network, so I'm ignoring those games. I have pleaded with my cable provider to add MLBN, to no avail.)

Running Man

In an interview during TigerFest, Phil Coke reveals his reason for sprinting to the mound from the bullpen. It's not to make us all laugh. It's not to burn a few extra calories. It's not because he can't stand the other Tigers relievers.

Coke explains that it's because "I don't want anything to enter my mind, except for 'Get to the hill, get the job done'."

I guess he doesn't want the adoring, but frequently brain-dead fans (people who reach over and interfere with balls still in play, people who try to start the wave in the 7th inning of Justin Verlander's no-hitter, people who boo Todd Jones' first blown save in 20 opportunities) to mess with his game mindset. I can't say I blame him there.

When asked whether there was an advantage to him being the only lefty in the starting rotation, Coke shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and quipped, ""I don't know, I'm just a baseball player, man." This echoes the sentiments of many ball players who probably think that zealous fans, media and bloggers overanalyze everything. Curtis Granderson said that he doesn't even know what the stat WAR (wins above replacement player) is. During the celebration for the 40th anniversary of the 1968 World Series, Rod and Mario had various players from the '68 team in the booth during the game. I remember one of them saying that he doesn't really watch baseball and never has. He just enjoyed playing it. Yes, I realize this means that many of us are attached to baseball in a way that could be perceived as "Fatal Attraction." So what? I've come to terms with it. I hope you have too.

If you want to see the Coke interview in its entirety, here's a link, but you'll have to go to the "TicketTube" section on the right side bar and then scroll through the video options until you see Phil Coke in a light blue dress shirt.

These are the things that have to get us through until there is baseball again.

FreezeFest 2011

Did you know that certain extremities refuse to be warmed when exposed to icy temperatures? My nose was frozen and red all day at TigerFest yesterday. That didn't stop me from enjoying myself. I was armed with foot and hand warmers, and the Tigers were also passing out free hand warmers to the hardy fans who defied the weather.

Although I had several failures yesterday, my friend Nicole triumphed in a way I hadn't imagined possible. I had brought my scorecard from the no-hitter in hopes of meeting Justin Verlander in the autograph lines. NO. Of course, I wanted to see Mi Magglio. Well, I saw him, all right. I got to the photo booth area in time to see him LEAVING! I would have liked to meet Max Scherzer. He did walk by my friend and I, and she gasped audibly, but I was busy digging in my bag, so I barely glimpsed him. Sigh.

Now, allow me to regale you with my friend's tale of victory. Nicole follows both Will Rhymes and Casper Wells on Twitter. We were standing in an autograph line, when Will Rhymes walked by us. Nicole told him she followed him on Twitter and he high-fived her. She tweeted it, with a shout out to Wells to top it, and Rhymes proceeded to retweet it. That was quite exciting, needless to say. Well, a while later, we get to the front of an autograph line, and who is there, but Casper Wells himself. Nicole shows him the tweet and the challenge. You could see the wheels turning in his mind for a moment as he signed her hat. Then, he slowly stood up and enveloped her in a big, genuine hug! Then he told her she better tweet THAT to Will. Holy cow, a twitter war had broken out! Nicole's feet didn't touch ground for while after that. I was happy for her, despite my epic failures.

We attended one of the panel discussions, which featured Justin Verlander, Joaquin Benoit, and an empty chair for a tardy Phil Coke. Rod and Mario were allowing audience members to pose questions, and people kept asking Justin the most pointed questions. He took it all in good grace, laughing at how Jim Thome owns him, talking about how he has ZERO major league hits, and discussing his April woes. Funny stuff. Then Phil Coke finally walks in the room and flashes an expression that put the whole room in stitches. You just had to be there, I can't describe it. Then he says the reason he was late is because he was down in the team store trying to find out why there were no Coke shirts in there. He's priceless. Really.

I did get to tell Austin Jackson he was robbed for ROY, and how much we appreciated his season here. He is very humble, trying to deflect all that praise coming his way. Here are a few snaps from the frozen tundra.

If You Didn't Love Phil Coke Already, You Will Now

Phil Coke has already endeared himself to most Detroit fans. If, however, you are someone who has not yet fallen for the adorable, gregarious hurler, I have evidence that will have you head over heels.

Coke was not supposed to pitch in yesterday's finale against the O's. He had been drilled by a ball on Friday. Leyland's plan was to rest him. However, Coke told the skip he was ready to go if needed for Sunday. That should get you started down a path of Coke adoration right there. He's a gamer. Listen to this quote. "I always want the ball," Coke said. "I don't care if I'm missing a limb, I want the ball. If I'm able to go out there and throw the ball over the plate and get the job done, then that's what I'm here for. That's my job. I want to be effective and able to do my job. Luckily, I was given the opportunity." He always wants the ball. Even if a limb has inexplicably gone missing, he wants the ball. Enough said. It reminds me of my son. He ALWAYS wants the ball, too. In his league, pitchers were limited to six innings per week to protect young arms. One game, my son had already pitched three innings. Coach was going to put another pitcher in to start the next inning. My son stubbornly walked to the mound anyway, hoping he'd persuade his coach to let him pitch at least one inning more. I laughed, but I guess that's a good quality for a pitcher.

When Coke got the final out in the 9th inning on Sunday, the emotion was palpable. Check out the description by MLB.com's Alex DeFillipo. "And as soon as home-plate umpire Derryl Cousins rang up Pie, Coke howled out a scream that seemed so loud it could be heard in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

"I was really fired up," Coke said. "I was really, really fired up, especially after stinking the other night. I got hit, it hurt and I was upset." Coke takes every mistake to heart. I mean, really, really to heart. He shoulders blame like a regular pack mule. Personal responsibility is like Phil Coke's credo or something. He doesn't look outside himself. It HURTS when he gets hit around. He's not just out there to collect that paycheck. It's impossible not to love that.

On top of it all, Coke is just a fun, entertaining individual. I sat a few rows behind the bullpen one night, and Coke was out there interacting and laughing it up with fans, talking to the bullpen police officer, just acting like a regular guy. A friend of mine worked a baseball camp at which Brennan Boesch and Phil Coke appeared. She said that Boesch was friendly, but very reserved, but that Coke was funny, engaging and talkative. No surprise there. Coke exudes approachability.

If none of this has caught your heart, just watch Coke sprint, I mean shoot like a cannon, out of the bullpen his next outing. It's absolutely impossible not to smile at the sight of it.

The CoPa Still Beckons

The Tigers are not mathematically eliminated from the 2010 playoffs. Ha. We all know it's over.

You know what, though? I still love going to ballgames. I can't help it. Is there a better sensory experience than walking in to the park, seeing the green expanse of grass and players warming up, smelling roasted peanuts and spun cotton candy, and hearing the public address announcer telling you that Comerica Park is a family environment and profanity is strictly forbidden? I don't think so.

So, I had to heed the call yesterday. Luckily, a friend of mine is very like-minded. When I texted her about going to the game, her simple reply was "of course." Like, there is no question of being tired or having obligations. Of course she wanted to spend 2 hours and four minutes with our boys of summer. Of course she wanted to take a sharpened pencil to her scorecard.

My friend wore her Jeremy Bonderman jersey last night. Thank her for that outstanding performance. Eight strong, three hits, one run, one walk? Just wow.

John Danks was the unhappy victim of a pair of errors by Mark Teahen. He was left out there to dry by Ozzie Guillen for six full innings, who apparently had no desire to burn through his pen. Only two of the five runs Danks was charged with were earned. Smart move by Guillen. Pena went the final two, and operation bullpen preservation succeeded.

Our murderer's row lineup really impressed. Wells had an RBI, and Inge and Avila each collected a pair. Everyone but Rhymes and Boesch had a hit.

Phil Coke. I haven't heard any updates lately on his dead arm/tired arm, but Leyland keeps running him out there, quite literally. It always makes me smile when Coke sprints to the mound. I don't like to see Coke struggle, because the guy is a smidge hard on himself, you know? Like when he blamed Joel Zumaya's broken elbow on his own ineffectiveness that game. So, it made me happy to see him allow no runs on one hit last night.

Anyway, do not ignore the call from your ballpark. She wants to entertain you. She does not disappoint. She will soon be shuttered. Go. While you still can.

Sunday Stupidity

Early in the game, Mario informed us that Toronto starting pitcher Marc Rzepczynski's nickname is Scrabble because of the high score his last name would earn in that game. Rod responds that he "likes the game. It's a good family game." I would be willing to bet my devalued house that Rod has never played a game of Scrabble in his life. I found it funny, though, because Scrabble is my most favorite of all games.

In the fourth, Inge had to make an off-balance throw to first to get John McDonald. Mario says that Brandon Inge "does not play around." Oh, because most third basemen do? They kind of just lazily go after balls hit their way and lob the ball over to first? Sigh.

None other than Jose Bautista broke up Porcello's no-hitter in the fourth. I'm pretty sure he's on steroids or HGH. Sorry. Just kidding. I'm not bitter. Actually, I blame Rogo of DesigNate Robertson. He always jinxes no-hitters. Ask him about how he messed up Jujstin Verlander earlier this year, Max Scherzer's no-hitter against Tampa Bay, and Armando Galarraga's August 20th effort.

It's been fun watching the shirt of home place umpire Brian O'Nora become increasingly drenched with sweat. It started out as a small circle on his abdomen, and is now just about soaked. Gross. Go change in between innings, could ya? It's kind of distracting me. Ugh, now the entire front of O'Nora's pants are wet too. HD is not always our friend.

John McDonald hit a home run down the left field line in the bottom of the sixth inning. Rod and Mario immediately express their incredulity. Rod especially, was like "not Johnny Mac!" Mario added, "You don't expect HIM to take you deep," Poor John, his power was dissed repeatedly by our broadcasting duo.

In the top of the seventh, Miguel Cabrera stole second base. I was laughing out loud with joy. So endearing. As if everything he does isn't already. We heart you. Inge followed with a two run homer, so you know what that means. Player of the game. Poor Raburn, he has no shot, even though he has gone deep TWICE in this game.

The boo birds (bad pun intended) came out for Jesse Carlson as he surrendered four hits and three runs in the seventh. I always hate when the camera zooms in on a guy's face as he's getting booed. You can almost always see a certain look in the poor guy's eyes. It makes me feel bad.

Porcello goes seven strong, and looked just outstanding. So happy. So happy. Phil Coke comes on for the eighth. I am mystified. Coke is battling tired arm or dead arm. And WHYYYY do we keep running him out there mercilessly, as if there is just noone else? Especially in a blowout like this, there is no good reason for Coke to be pitching. I don't care if Leyland wants to get the bad taste of Friday night's walkoff loss in extras out of his mouth. He should be resting.

Rod and Mario begin talking about some upcoming off day that will occur in Chicago. Rod keeps talking about "bellying up" somewhere to people watch, or watch the MSU game. Not sure what he thinks he means by that, but it sounds completely ridiculous.

Apparently Valverde is still struggling a bit, but at least we had enough of a cushion on this one. Sigh.

Chicks Dig the Long Ball

Seeing Curtis Granderson play against the Tigers in pinstripes--not a pretty sight, but a sight made more tolerable by young Austin Jackson's performance this year in the Old English D. It has been reported that Curtis has not yet been the target of Yankee fans' ire, despite a rather disappointing season. I'm glad, because little CJ does not deserve boos. He just doesn't. Unless he beats us, then Tiger fans will be showing him with boos.

Ryan Perry is our reliever with the best strand rated for inherited runners. He does this job again beautifully tonight in the 8th. So lovely. He needed a little help from Papa Grande to finish the eighth, but I'm happy.

During Valverde's phantasmagorical loss of control during the ninth, I found myself sitting in front of the TV blinking--like if I blinked enough, I might miss the horrors playing out in front of my eyes. Sadly, the blinking did very little. Let's see, he's walked a run in, buzzed Jeter, BUT GETS HIM TO HIT INTO THE DOUBLE PLAY TO END THIS THING!

Here's the bad news. Coke will not be available tomorrow, Perry will not be available tomorrow. Valverde? He's coming off an abdominal strain, and threw like a wild man tonight--38 pitches, only 16 of them strikes. Oh, how jocular. Verlander better be thinking complete game vs. CC Sabathia.

All of our runs tonight came via the home run. Ryan Raburn continues to prove us wrong, and raked a two run shot in the second. Miguel Cabrera flicked one off his shoetops (and off the end of his bat) to give us three. Miguel, you are the MVP.

I will be sojourning in the wilderness for the next five days, so have fun kids! I may tune in to parts of games via a hand crank radio. Seriously.

No Girls Allowed

I sort of took a mental health break from the Tigers yesterday. I did watch part of the game, which I had recorded, and then someone inadvertently gave away the outcome, so I just let it go. Is THAT what it takes to get a win? I had a lot of fun just tossing around the baseball and playing badminton. It was good medicine. I've mentioned before that my relationship with the Tigers might just be considered toxic.

Allow me to elaborate. When I was fourteen, I wrote a letter to the Tigers inquiring about becoming a bat girl. They, in turn, sent me a letter stating that GIRLS WERE NOT CURRENTLY CONSIDERED FOR BATBOY POSITIONS. What? Sexism running rampant in the mid-80s at Tiger Stadium? I should have sued the pants off the franchise, and been installed as the first female bat person in Tigers history. As it was, all I did was send a nasty-gram, saying how I could do the job just as well as any stupid boy. "Hell hath no fury," you know. Then I craftily changed my name from Jennifer to Jeff and reapplied. I got a standard form letter back saying that there were no current batboy openings, along with a couple decals. This did not placate me. No. I ranted and raved much like I do here for many weeks on end.

I told that story to give you all a little chuckle, a much needed respite from the wretchedness that has become our season, the rotting carcass that is our second half of every season under Leyland, the maggot-eaten flesh festering in a scorching sun....well, you get the idea.

My mother asked me about the Tigers and I told her I just go into every game assuming we are going to lose, and if we do come away with a win, it's just bonus. That's what it has come to.

Mike Ilitch tells us he'll spend money on the Tigers this off season, with some $60 million large coming off the books. Let us just hope it is spent wisely. We could do some things with $60 mill. It could really help the ball club. Our eyes shift ahead to what might be in 2011. It's just self-preservation. I don't want to start screaming at the poor minor league kids that are just doing the best they can after being thrust into positions for which they weren't ready. I want to relax and let them make a wild throw or strike out with impunity. Rod Allen has already forgotten all of Will Rhymes mistakes anyway. Tonight he said that Rhymes was essentially flawless at second while he was up. What? I specifically remember a couple REALLY bad throws. Whatever, I'm letting it go. Just like Rod has.

So, go ahead Tigers, score one run five nights running, implode the bullpen a few times, get no quality starts...go ahead, pile it on! I can handle it. Maybe.

Speaking of imploding the bullpen, what in the name of balls and strikes is going on there? Phil Coke, who was just stellar the first half, has been getting tagged along with the rest of the arms out there. Eddie Bonine has been outed as someone who lets all of his inherited runners score (ok, not all, but waaaaaayyyy too many). Shrek Gonzalez has watched long balls jump out of the park. Sigh. Jeff Jones, you are on my list. And it's a long one.

EDIT: I had to show you my rejection letter, signed by Dan Ewald himself. If you click, it will enlarge.

Many Happy Returns

While an Opening Day win does not signal a trip to the playoffs (though it was hard to tell based on how zotzed up the FSN boys sounded during the Tigers Live post-game show) it feels good to put one in the W column. It's hard not go with the feel good vibe after a Game 1 victory, because "winning, it's like better than losing."

I know this is a Tigers blog, but David DeJesus is one of my favorite players to watch. His mannerisms and reactions to things make me laugh--bonus points to him for that. He laughed at himself after dragging his face through the dirt on a botched slide. He pumped his arms like a little girl striding away from a bad play date in a huff after striking out. I love this.

Also scoring some make-me-laugh points is Phil Coke. He runs out from the pen looking like a total schlump. An 80s baseball player schlump, no less. He does a sort of WWF wrestler flex and growl (in keeping with his 80s persona) when a good defensive play helps him out of a jam. He's, um, bulky, and I dig that, because I can relate.

Joel Zumaya fans Betancourt on a high hard one. There.

Young Austin Jackson showed us what he got in a very satisfying way on both sides of the ball (please don't rain on the happy parade by saying the ump got the call wrong--I watched the replay too). His parents were there to see his debut, so that's just as warm and fuzzy as can be.

Johnny Idiot Damon showed up to play. Go ahead, do that all year, and then go show up for some other (show-me-the-money, glam-tacular) team next year.

Poor Kansas City. I think they got an all too accurate glimpse of their pen yesterday. Hey, at least they have Soria--too bad save situations could be um, limited.

Finally, I have to say that I like Ryan Perry, I like him A LOT.

See you tomorrow for the awkward partial broadcast.