Bad Weather Leads to Outlandish Sentiments

Rainout. It's a dirty word in my book. Postponements are loathsome. You see, fans go out to the ballpark expecting baseball, and what they get is....wet. Soggy, flooding downpours that make it difficult to see ten feet in front of you. Cold, sodden jeans that refuse to dry out. It's a misery. In this Spring-that-never-was, we Tiger faithful have endured more than our fair share of rainouts. Very disturbing.

Another thing I find unsettling is this Brandon Inge/Don Kelly situation. I won't call it a platoon as yet, because it's only happened a couple times. Binge is scuffling at the plate (as per usual--will you idiots who claim he will do better this season year after forsaken year please stifle yourselves and accept him as Mendoza???) Our alternative to Binge??? Don Kelly. I call him Donkey. It's not a compliment. Who can accept either of these two stiffs in the lineup? There is no lesser evil here. It's fail on the one hand, and incompetence on the other.

I'm not gonna name names and subject anyone to jeers and catcalls here (though public humiliation should be the penance for expressing that affront to sane people everywhere), but someone told me he/she felt sorry for Inge today. What in the name of balls and strikes?? I just....No. There's no pitying someone who is batting .208 with one home run, 36 whiffs and 12 RBI. This guy deserves to stockpile gigantic splinters in his derierre.

I would love to speak about other Tigerly things, but my basement looks like Lake Havasu, and I've got to board a plane to Atlantic City to appear in a Jersey Shore episode. So enjoy your holiday weekend, and may the Tigers put some holes in the Sox.

I'm Deeply Moved...

The stars aligned evilly tonight. Tigers baseball was postponed. Day night doubleheader scheduled for Sunday. Now what am I supposed to do this evening? I came up with a suitable, if not completely satisfying substitute for "real" baseball. In honor of the late James Gammon, who recently passed, and who played Cleveland manager Lou Brown, and to recognize Bob Uecker's return to the broadcasting booth, I am watching Major League.

I actually saw Major League in a theater in Skokie, Illinois when it was released. Shut up, I know I'm old. At the time, I kind of thought it was stupid, I"ll be honest. The film grew on me in time, of course. Classic lines are repeated until they are worn out, and there is no parallel for Bob Uecker's drunken comic genius.

Pitcher Eddie Harris smears various, ahem, substances in strategic places on his body in order to add a little movement to his anemic fastball. Willie Mays Hayes puts his batting gloves on AFTER he arrives at first base. Rick Vaughn walks the bases loaded on twelve straight pitches to begin his major league career. "Juuuuust a bit outside."

Ok, I'm not going to repeat everything you already know about the movie. Suffice it to say that it was a nostalgic trip down memory lane. Thankfully, there will be baseball tomorrow. How on earth do I ever make it through the off-season?

You know what? There might be a valuable lesson we can take from Major League. Maybe our boys are coddled too much. Maybe the MLB life is just a smidge too swanky. Let's remove a perk or two and see how our club performs, shall we? Let's strip away a little of the pampered, rich and famous, glammed-up lifestyles these boys take for granted. Maybe a little working-man's mentality would rub off on our prima-donnas. It's not that I don't think our ballplayers put forth effort, but who doesn't go through the motions now and then? Going through the motions may have cost us a playoff run last year. I'm going to tell Dave Dombrowski to take away those foofy robes Johnny Damon bought for all the players. No more massage chairs in the clubhouse. Sycophantic entourage members are verboten. Let's enforce a strict curfew on the road. (Well, Miggy, that goes for home as well. Sorry.) The boys can read classic comics instead of canoodling with groupies. Then we'll see if we can prevent another stretch run collapse. Ha.