No Joy in Mudville

In the first inning of this series finale, Ramon Santiago hit a one-out double down the right field line. With two outs and first base open, Miguel Cabrera strode to the plate, and Maddon pitched to him. Once again, strategy works, and Miggy strikes out swinging, stranding Santiago in scoring position. The frequency of this occurrence begins to wear me out. I don’t blame Miguel Cabrera. He can’t be 100% of our offense. It’s just that it appears that no break will ever come our way, whether it be incredible defensive plays, biased umpiring or voodoo.

It’s possible that I am a mite cranky due to our recent fall off a cliff, but if I have to see another Sam Bernstein commercial, or watch the Labatt Light Refreshment Duo even once more, I may take a fork to my own eyeballs. Not sure if that’s an overreaction, but like I said, I may be slightly irrational at the moment.

In the bottom of the second, former Tiger Carlos Peña hit a bomb to right field. Rod and Mario tell us it hit a catwalk BEYOND the right field wall. I just nod mechanically, yes that’s how things are going for us at the moment. At least I didn’t burst into tears.

Next, a pop foul drops harmlessly between Danny Worth and Ramon Santiago. Tears threaten but do not fall.

Will Rhymes leads off the third with a standup triple. It coaxes a small, no teeth showing smile. Rod says that Will looks like a track star the way he runs with his hands pumping up and down. Rod. You do go on. Hey, maybe Rhymes will hit for the cycle today. (Sarcastic laughter.) Sorry. I know that hardened cynicism is ugly. I’ll try to be sunnier.

Jhonny Peralta arrives in the Tiger dugout during the third inning. Sporting an awkward smile, he is greeted by handshakes and hugs. Must feel a bit odd to arrive mid-game. He is wearing number 27.

Ever informative, Rod lets the viewer know that the Tigers are 3 for 23 with RISP this series. Rod, need I remind you that tears are barely being held at bay here? Geez. Santiago beats out a double play to score Rhymes, and we’re tied at 1.

I absolutely adore the Rays striped socks. They really are all that. The dark blue socks are punctuated by rings of white and powder blue. Very nice. Every one of them should wear high socks at all times.

Cabrera makes a great diving stop on a grounder, but Crawford is too fast, and Porcello can’t beat him to the bag. Bases loaded. Eyes momentarily fill up. Choked back in time to see Porcello strike Longoria out for the second time. Two outs, bases still juiced. Two runs score on a liner that ricochets off Cabrera’s glove. Tough break number 5,427 for the Tigers. Sob. Hey, I held back as long as I could. You’re lucky I wasn’t boo hoo-ing two innings ago. Bases re-loaded on a walk to Matt Joyce. Forget that he saved a helpless kitten when he was here in Detroit. He hit a grand slam to squash Scherzer’s no-hitter on Monday. He’s on my list.

Boesch’s first hit of the series comes on a broken-bat infield single to short. We will take that, along with any other help we can get. Could the thunder rumbling outside the Trop strike any of the Rays occupants inside? Just asking. Raburn swings under an elevated fastball to run the count full. I can never say this enough about the high hard ones, “can’t him ‘em, can’t lay off ‘em.” It holds true most of the time.

The stupid carpet at the Trop is said to be wearing on free-agent-to-be Carl Crawford. He has a sore back every night from standing on the artificial surface. Can anyone steal him from the Yankees? I would appreciate that.

Ha. Laird comes up with runners on first and second with one out. Would you take the over or the under if I said the odds on him hitting into a double play were set at 85%? I’m not going to apologize for being jaded any more. It’s just what this season has done to me. Deal with it. I have to. Well he flies out to right, so at least it wasn’t the GIDP. It’s up to little Rhymes now, who sort of resembles a flea. Joyce runs down a fly ball, which had threatened to shoot the gap in right. Side retired. Bernstein commercial follows. I change the channel.

Miggy strikes out looking to start the sixth. Price has struck him out three times today for sobbing out loud! I almost just said “what more could happen to us?” but that would have brought on a hailstorm of destruction, so I refrained. Boesch strikes out. Quickly. I mean, he was hardly at the plate for three seconds. Two outs. None on. Raburn at the plate. He singles to bring Laird to the dish. Laird ground out weakly to second. Ahem. Another Bernstein commercial.

Porcello has now retired 9 straight batters and there are two outs in the bottom of the sixth for Willy Aybar. Porcello strikes him out for another 1-2-3 inning. There’s a little bright spot.

Price balks Worth over to second in the seventh with one out for Austin Jackson. A RISP? Oh, sadly, we can predict what will happen next. Well, we did score one run, but then Maddon walks Cabrera AGAIN to load up the bases when runners were on first and second, and Boesch grounds out weakly. I…just…

Porcello then dispatches the Rays in order to help me retain the vestiges of sanity. Thanks. Rod and Mario marvel about that new-fangled gadget the iPod touch. Guys. Please.

In the top of the eighth, we are carved up like so much roast beef. Porcello comes back out and gives up a single, then balks the runner to second. Are you serious? The balk looked suspect to me. Umpires are in a conspiracy against the Tigers. I am now convinced. Groundball advances runner to third. Leyland walks Longoria intentionally. Brings in Coke to pitch to Peña. AGAIN a groundball glances off Cabrera’s glove to score a run. Some evil puppeteer is orchestrating this game with the deliberate intention of driving Tigers fans to Bedlam. There IS NO OTHER explanation for the repetition of such horrors.

Down 4-2 and here come our last at bats. Danny Worth flies out to right to lead us off. Woo hoo! Austin Jackson does have an RBI single today, soooo let’s see what he can do with nobody on and one out. He chases two high hard ones to strike out. Here we go kids! Ramon Santiago remains our last hope of avoiding a four game sweep at the Trop. He grounds weakly right back to the mound to end this thing. Excuse me while I go lose my lunch and my mind.

Carl Pavano, Evil Incarnate, and Other Irrefutable Truths

All good things must come to an end, I guess. The Tigers are no longer undefeated this year in games I've attended. This thanks to Satan's underling Carl Pavano, and the, ahem, Detroit Tigers pitching staff.

I feel all guilt-ridden and shamed because my mom, dad and sister had come in from out-of-town, don't get to go to many games, and...THIS is what they got.

Andrew Oliver--no can find strike zone.

Eddie Bonine--no can strand inherited baserunners.

Brad Thomas--gives back runs after we just scored.

You guys make me sick. Sorry. I don't mean to be shrewish when we took two of three from the Twinks, but it was just the circumstances. My poor sister dejectedly trudged down the concourse, mumbling about being bad luck. She doesn't deserve that. She's all gung ho long distance from the corn fields of Indiana. She could be rooting for the Cubs for sobbing out loud. She told her fourth grade class she was going to come up for a playoff game last fall. The little rugrats were ready to turn the classroom into a sweat shop, churning out all manner of adorable fourth grade-y posterboard signs. Oh. Yeah. We didn't make the playoffs last fall. Well then. Bitterness.

I did warn the family of Pavano's eerie dominance over the Tigers, and Oliver's, um, uneven performance in the bigs so far. It didn't really help to temper the optimism that we'd be Sunday afternoon victors, in first place at the All-Star break. Well then. Sulk.

We did see a couple of REALLY nice defensive plays, which had us jumping out of our seats and yelling ourselves hoarse. Ajax made an outrageous running, over-the-shoulder snag...never thought he'd get to that ball. Boesch must have been taking extra fielding practice, because he made a nice diving grab. Santiago flashed some leather at short. Alex Avila completed a nice strike 'em out, throw 'em out play on a Nick Punto attempt to steal. Well then. Half smile.

Once again, Inge provided us with the game-ending out. Mercifully it was not a strikeout looking, or I would have become yet another sordid baseball-security incident statistic. Hmmm. Does getting Tasered curb the appetite? I really could use a jump start to some weight loss.

In the Midnight Hour

In a miraculous turn of events, I stayed up for last night's game. We really needed to come away with a W. I mean, things were getting ugly. We had dropped 2 of 3 to the Mariners, and were staring 3 straight losses to the Angels in the face. Enter Miguel Cabrera. One mighty swat tied the game at three in the ninth. MVP candidacy has been filed. What? It's only April? Ok, ok. Calm down. It's just a little dramatic-come-back-late-innings-victory hyperbole.

The remainder of the Tigers' half of the ninth was filled with a see-saw of emotions, with Carlos Guillen taking a base on balls, Brandon Inge striking out (the predictability of this at bat is painful), Gerald Laird entering the game as a pinch hitter (with curses heard 'round the world), Guillen stealing second, Laird drawing a walk, Carlos getting picked off attempting to steal third, but staying in a rundown long enough to get Laird down to second (or he may have been drawn and quartered upon returning to the dugout), Ramon Santiago hitting the unlikeliest of bloop singles to left off his shoetops, and Gerald Laird hauling himself admirably around third, and executing a gorgeous slide, swiping the bag with his hand to avoid the tag.

Papa Grande garnered the save in merciful 1-2-3 fashion. I would've whooped and hollered in jubilation, except everyone else in my house had already entered their REM cycles, and it would've been a little rude to wake them all up. Oh well, I settled for silent glee.

Our RISP woes subsided a bit last night as we went 2-4, while the Angels managed only 1-7. Five runners were marooned on the basepaths, which compares rather favorably to 10 on Tuesday, 8 on Monday, and 12 on Sunday.

Is it asking too much to split with the Angels tonight? Come on Justin, let's bring that 6.88 ERA down a smidge.

Games Attended 2009: Part the Third

Well, here I am again to regurgitate some 2009 fodder for your reading pleasure (or pain as the case may be). Part three of this series looks at offensive performances. Not offensive as in repugnant, but you know, offense as in the boys who wield the bats. Well, I will cover the good, the bad, and the otherwise notable for games I attended in 2009, so I guess offensive does work in both senses, but I digress.

I saw the Tigers get skunked only once in 2009, and that was not even at Comerica Park. The game was September 25 in Chicago at the Cell. Poor Eddie Bonine pitched pretty much brilliantly for 6 2/3 innings, and we couldn't bring a single baserunner around to score. We got a man to second base in the second, third and sixth innings, but failed miserably at bringing them home. Jake Peavy was on the hill for the Sox, so that tells you a little bit. Polanco had three singles, and everyone else pretty much whiffed all day. Peavy ended up with 8 Ks over seven innings pitched, and our Bengals racked up 12 strikeouts for the game. Not exactly the road victory I was hoping for, but nobody poured beer on me, so I guess I shouldn't complain.

The Tigers score 10 runs or more three times at games I saw in person during the 2009 season. The greatest offensive outburst I witnessed last year occurred the day after the game I described above, again in Chicago against the White Sox (is this starting to feel like the Twilight Zone or what?). The Tigers whomped the Sox 12-5 on September 26, and after this game Ozzie Guillen got a mite testy, so I dug out the quote for you:

"If they think the season's over for them, yes," Guillen said. "If they think it's over for me, no. I want to make it clear: There's a bunch of [expletives] out there watching football games like a piece of [expletive] with no pride. By the way they [expletive] play, that's embarrassing. If you don't have pride about the way you play, get another job.

"I'm not in a pennant race, but at least I have some pride. When you get [to the clubhouse] and turn on a stupid-ass football game when those [expletive] football players don't give a [expletive] about you, that's embarrassing. We've got seven games [left]. They are going to pull their [expletive] together, period. I don't mind losing a game, but when you lose a game and you don't care about it, we are going to have a problem. To get your asses kicked like that and all of a sudden, you're watching football games? That's a bunch of [expletive]."

It's ALWAYS a barrel of laughs to hear Ozzie hold forth. Unfortunately, his scathing words on this occasion had the proper effect, because the Sox then proceeded to beat the Tigers two out of three in the final series of the season, and you know what happened after that. Sorry to break open old wounds.

Back to the game. Miguel Cabrera had a four hit, four RBI night, Curtis Granderson plated three, Polanco and Ordóñez each knocked two home, and Adam Everett got in on the action by bringing in one of his own. We batted around twice, scoring four runs in both the 7th and 8th innings. An entertaining away game to attend, no?

It's a little difficult to choose just one, but my offensive performance of the year (for games attended) goes to:

Ramon Santiago

May 17, 1009 vs. Oakland Athletics

Ramon had four at bats, four hits, four RBI, and his hits came like this:

2nd - triple, RBI

3rd - home run (to deep center field!), 3 RBI

5th - single

7th - single

One other notable performance that comes to mind is from July 21 vs. the Seattle Mariners. The rumors about the Tigers cutting Magglio were swirling so fast it appeared a tornado was imminent. He was embattled and beleaguered. My Tiger's future as a wearer of the Old English D was murkier than Lake Erie. On that day, Magglio swatted a grand slam in the first inning off Garrett Olson, and I felt that if he was going to be gone, that was the way to go out. Please don't point out (if you remember) that the blast came off of a 79 MPH curve. Such scoffing has no impact on me.

Have you got what it takes to stomach a fourth installment?

Ghosts of Weekend Past

Once again, I bring you day old bread. I won't bore you to tears with weak apologies about being out of town, having houseguests, helping with homework, blah, blah, blah.

I sojourned in the City of Wind over the weekend to celebrate my anniversary and take in some Tiger baseball. There were moments of solidarity on the L, as many Tiger faithful made the trek to the Cell. As we awaited our transfer to the Red Line, a man fully decked out in Sox gear was standing next to me. He espied my Tiger jersey, and gave me what I can only term the "stink eye." It was SO great. His disgust and ire were expressed in one small look. No words were exchanged. It was pure gall to him, standing next to me. He had no idea that his gesture made my day.

Everyone else was surprisingly good natured. I was prepared to have beer poured on me. No such tales can I provide here. Quite the contrary. Get a load of this "moment" between opposing fans. A rabid Sox fan behind us had her ring fall off and go bouncing down several steps to who knows where. Everyone pitched in to look for it, and I finally came up with it after a protracted search. As I handed it to her, I was stunned to receive a hug of gratitude. I hope SportsCenter got that--Sox and Tiger fan embrace!

Now to the game. Friday night, Eddie Bonine took a no-hitter going into the sixth inning. A Brandon Inge error planted Alex Rios at first, and the next thing you know, young Golden Boy Gordon Beckham goes yard (with two outs) to bust up the no-no most emphatically. I ask you this: when you get a quality outing from a spot starter, is it not criminal to then provide ZERO run support and lose the game, a game with pennant chase implications, no less? I'm sorry, it cannot be countenanced.

I was pleasantly surprised with U.S. Cellular Field. I wasn't expecting much, and our seats were fantastic, so perhaps I was unduly influenced. The Sox fans there were hype, despite the fact that their team was eliminated from playoff contention the previous night. I was impressed by the fervor. In fact, they put Tiger fans at last night's game to shame. I was there, and I was frankly embarrassed at the mausoleum Comerica Park seemed for such an important game. It was the ninth inning, and the place should have been on its feet screaming from Fernando's first pitch, and everyone was sitting in their seats like they were at the Opera (until there were two outs). WHAT...IS...WRONG...WITH...YOU...PEOPLE?

I love road games, because you get such great chances for player interaction. Our seats were four rows from the field about two section over from the Tigers' dugout, so I was standing down on the rail during warmups. Curtis Granderson, as you know, is from Chicago, and many people kept calling him over there to ask where to meet up with him after the game. He did a good job of not giving a specific location, rather speaking in code to them. Shucks. Anyway, he came over and was standing literally right in front of me about a foot and a half away, so I got to tell him how much I enjoy watching him play, and got a close-up photo of him. One guy who called him over (and obviously knew him) actually took Curtis' face between his huge hands and patted it. I could not believe my eyes.

Ok, so that was the supposed end of Tiger baseball for me for the weekend. I mean, I was in town celebrating a wedding anniversary, you know. Well, on the way back to the L, a Sox fan noticed my jersey and said it was a nice weekend for us and not so much for them, and asked whether I was going to all three games. I replied no, we had some other festivities planned for Saturday. He said he had lowers for Saturday's game 2 for $25. I tried to nobly shake him off, no, no we're going to a comedy club, we've got dinner reservations. My husband (insert picture of knight in glittering armor) says we have to take the tickets, it's too good a deal. What else could I do? I mean, when the stars align in your favor, you graciously accept, right? We checked the tickets for authenticity, and saw they were indeed for Saturday, and were only a couple sections over from where we were Friday night. The guy even gave us a tip on riding the L, so he earns five gold stars.

The weekend decided to bend itself over backward to please me. On Saturday afternoon, we went to some shops on the Magnificent Mile, splitting up for a short moment. Not sure why my husband didn't want to come into Crate and Barrel with me, but whatever. I was going to meet him outside of Niketown. So, I ambled over there, and he hadn't even gone in yet, because he was watching a street performer, who was spray painted silver from head to toe and was acting like a robot dancer. Quite a crowd he had, too. Weird. Anyway, I said I wanted to go into Niketown, too. We were looking at the kids section upstairs for a souvenir, when I gasped and blurted "TheresMiguelCabreraandRamonSantiagoIhavetogotalktothemrightnow." They were chatting with a friend, and I rudely walked right up and butted in. Miguel and Ramon were very friendly and gracious, as I gushed about how I was in town for the games, and so excited for the playoff run, and on and on like a babbling idiot. Then, I WALK AWAY WITHOUT ASKING FOR A PHOTO! Imagine my joy turning to self-loathing as I realize my mistake. Well, I directed another lucky Tiger fan to our heroes (sorry, guys) and he asked them for a photo right away. I decided to disgrace myself in a complete lack of pride and ask for one right after him. They obliged without any audible snickers, but I can only imagine the eye-rolling and worse as I walked away. I can only hope that I wasn't the subject of coarse clubhouse jokes Saturday night. Actually, even that's ok, because we won the game, and that's all that matters! Sign me up for buffoon duty anytime if it keeps the boys loose and helps us win ballgames.

Well, that's a wrap on yesterday's news, folks.

Magic Number: 2.

Stress level : 2000.

Game time: 1:00 pm Eastern.

Scott Baker's ERA vs. Tigers this year: 9.00

A's-weep

I decided at 11:00 this morning to catch today's series finale.  Kind of a good move on my part.

Got to see the Tigers finish off their second sweep in three series. (Never mind that little sweep by MN in between.)  The weather was sparkling sunshine, cool and breezy.  

I'm happy to report that Adam Kennedy's home run ball is safe within the confines of my home at this moment.  Now, hold on before you go off the deep end.  I fully subscribe to the unwritten rule that if you catch an opponent's home run ball, you throw it back on the field.   Here's what happened.   The ball caromed off the top of the right field wall all the way into center field.  Grandy picked it up and flipped it right at my kid.  The kid bobbled it and the guy sitting next to us picked it up and handed it back to my kid--thank you, sir!  So, you see, no violation of fan code has occurred.

Sadly Galarraga did not make if out of inning number one.  It was a little ugly out there for him today.  He may be the one squeezed out of the rotation if Bonderman comes back in form, and Willis is able to compete.  Who would have predicted that?  I hope it doesn't come to that, but it'll be nice to have some options if it does.  I know that he wasn't likely to keep his BABIP down as low as last year, but such a complete meltdown is alarming and unforeseen.  

Miner came on for 4.1 innings, and I was surprised he wasn't out there even longer.  Not that he was throwing all that great, but he is fully stretched out and all.  It worked out nicely though, as we got to see young Monsieur French do nicely after walking his first two batters faced.  Leyland came out to sprinkle some of that magic dust on the mound for him, and it seemed to do the trick.

Ramon Santiago is such a stud right now, despite his diminutive stature.  He was standing next to Cabrera during the game, and he looked like one of those "kids take the field" whipper snappers.  Speaking of which, the little guy who got to go out to center field today didn't realize he was supposed to run off the field once Grandy gave him his ball and shook his hand.  Curtis had to lean over and gently direct the young fella.  Getting back to Santiago, he fell a double shy of the cycle today, and one of his singles was almost long enough to try stretching to a double.   After a failed trip to the ferris wheel (monstrous line on free kids Sunday), we got back to our seats just in time to see his three run shot in the third.

Finally, my son enjoyed kids run the bases, while I tried to look nonchalant as I soaked up the parents' designated walk along the first base line, around home plate and past the empty Tigers' dugout.

Feel Free to Squeeze with Santiago

Jim Leyland puts on the squeeze play twice in a series, and they both work?   We've all heard how much Jim loathes the squeeze, and I don't really blame him.  I'd be so nervous putting it on I might need to invest in some discreet protection products.  Both times Santiago was the one bunting--wonder whether he was nervous too?  Today, Inge got a great jump, or the play would have resulted in Jim Leyland downloading "My Way" to his i-Pod (regrets, I've had a few).  Exciting stuff for those not on the block when things go bad.

Santiago generally makes the most of his playing time, and boy has he done that so far this year.  Again, we (at least Blake, Kurt and I) find ourselves wondering, why is it he has not been given a shot to play more?  What possible reason can Leyland or Dave Dombrowski give if they don't?  I'm stymied.  

Anyway, the youngest player in MLB pitched quite well today, I guess.  I recorded the game, turned on the TV to watch it, happened to have the channel on FSN, and tragically saw the last play of the game along with the final score by mistake.   Idiot!  I watched a few little bits, but the game was spoiled for me.   Happy with the final result though.  Surprising how difficult it can be to not find out the result of a game you've recorded for later viewing.   I've had a few mishaps already this year, most notably when my folks come into town, and I warn them not to say anything if they know what happened with today's game, and my dad replies "we already know they won."   Well all right!

Winter Ball Update

The Dominican Winter League, or more properly (and way more fun to say) Liga de Beisbol Dominicano, features several of our own:

Timo Perez - Licey, .407 AVG, .686 SLG, 1.162 OPS

Ramon Santiago - Gigantes, .353 AVG, .441 SLG, .905 OPS

Brent Clevelen - Escogido, .256 AVG, .316 SLG, .663 OPS

Timo and Ramon are performing well so far over a small sample size (10-15 games appearances).

Pitchers Aquilino Lopez and former Tiger Francisco Cruceta are also in the DWL.

Cruceta:  2.89 ERA, 9.1 IP, 1.29 WHIP

Lopez:  1.13. ERA, 8 IP, 0.75 WHIP

All I can say is I wish I could travel to one of the winter ball league games (sigh).  Already pining for baseball, and it's only November.