Prophesy!

Well, not five minutes after I wrote my last post, I read Jason Beck's blog, and lo and behold, my prediction about Sheffield has already come true.    Not that it was too difficult to foresee, but, I'll still take credit for the prophesy.

Sheffield Thou Art Loosed

Too bad the $14 million we owe him isn't also loosed.  Oh well, it's a freeing move for the Tigers notwithstanding the monetary loss.  We're freed up to retain Marucs Thams, and to DH Carlos Guillen and Magglio Ordóñez more often.  We're also liberated to bring Jeff Larish up with the club.

Now, I admit I'm protective of my own guys, so I was more than a little rankled when a local sports radio personality said today that Magglio Ordóñez was probably the worst right fielder in baseball.  Excuse me, Bobby Abreau played right field in the WBC and Magglio played left--making Abreu the lesser fielder.  There--at least one who's worse!  I admit he's a liability, but when Josh Anderson and Curtis Granderson play with Magglio, the center-fielder will be freed up to drift right, savvy?

Well, Sheff's tenure with any club is bound to be colorful, so it'll be interesting to see where he lands, and with whom he hits the big 500.  New grudges are sure to be birthed in moments of self-aggrandizing drama.  I'm sure we'll soon be hearing how the Tigers held him hostage at DH when he had all the desire and ability to play the field.

I always loved Sheff's bat through the years, and coveted it for the Tigers.  Old clichés ring true--be careful what you wish for...

Play Ball?

Well, the starting rotation picture continues to shift and confound.   Jeremy Bonderman showed us today that he is indeed not ready.  At times, he looked good, but he lacks arm strength and control.  I'm not really worried about him, he just needs more time.  It's disappointing that he won't be ready for the beginning of the season, because we need all we can get.  We don't want a repeat of last year now do we?  

Zach Miner, on the other hand, wants to show everybody that he does belong in the rotation after all.  He looked pretty stinking good, except for that one solo shot.  He worked all his pitches at a good pace, changing eye levels, and speeds.

Due to my botched DVR job, I didn't see Rapada's or Bonine's work.

Perhaps the latest twist in the Dontrelle Willis saga may lead us to have hope for his situation.  In a bizarre turn, WIllis has been placed on the DL with an anxiety disorder.  I had no idea they could be diagnosed with a blood test now, but I think this may be good news for Willis and the Tigers.  He may be able to come out of the tailspin he's been in.

Sadly, we endured yet another injury in today's game, as Santiago left the game after legging out an infield single, and then tripping over the first baseman's foot as he got to the bag.  It didn't look too terribly serious, but geez. 

On a final note, Opening Day, Opening Day, Opening Day's only 8 days away! 

The Opening Day Countdown Song

This is really embarrassing, but for some strange reason I feel obligated to admit to it.  Every year, as Opening Day draws near, I start singing a little made up ditty.  It's so short it doesn't really qualify as a song, and drives my family totally crazy.  My son literally begs me not to sing it.  I can't help it though.  I sing it every day until Opening Day arrives.  OK, I think I'm certifiable now.  Hope that didn't scare everyone away.  I think that in general, I'm a relatively "normal" person, but am admittedly a little gonzo over the Tigers.  BTW, don't ask me to post audio of the "song."  I really do want to retain a reader or two.

Opening Day

Now that Opening Day is in our sights, I've got some questions for you.

Do you have a tradition of attending Opening Day?  How many years running have you gone?

What's your most memorable Opening Day experience?

Have you ever attended the Tigers first game of the year when it was on the road?

For me personally, I don't feel compelled to attend Opening Day itself.  I have only gone twice, with mixed results.  Once in 1997, it was very frigid, near freezing, and although I was bundled as if I were in the Iditarod, it did not help one bit.  I remember sending my husband out to get some hot chocolate in hopes of warming my insides and my hands on it--and when he got back it was stone cold.  My feet were like chunks of frozen ice blocks, they felt heavy and stiff.  The weather dampened the fun a bit that day.

I shied away for a few years after that, waiting for fair weather.

Then, one year, right after work, I ran into a guy at the gas station.  The weather that day was absolutely incredible for April.  He had his Tigers gear on--a short sleeve t-shirt, and was all sun-kissed and beaming.  I knew right away he was coming from the game.  I asked him just to confirm, and he was so clearly on a baseball high that I vowed to go to Opening Day the next year, despite the capricious nature of April weather in Michigan.

My mom and dad happened to be coming into town around Opening Day, so I invited them to join me.  Their excitement, although not quite matching mine, added to the anticipation.  We couldn't have asked for a better day, the sun was out, the weather was in the low 50s, and our seats were pretty good--third row behind the visitors bullpen.  We watched Freddy Garcia warm up, and some fan heckled him mercilessly about his frosted highlights.  The little boy sitting next to us adopted my dad as grandpa for the day, sitting in his lap, stretching out--I think he almost fell asleep in my dad's arms at one point.  Funny how ballgames foster instant friendships.  We lost to the evil Chisox that day, but it was a near-perfect, memorable day nonetheless.

Since then, I've been content to attend one of the games of the first series.  I like it because it's a little less circus-like, a little more about the game.  This year, my first game isn't until the second series, although I may cave and buy tickets to the second game of the season on Saturday.

Please share your Opening Day stories to tide us over until Opening Day 2009 arrives.

What, Me a Hypocrite?

Politics and baseball are not exactly frequent bedfellows here in the US.  (Except for the whole Mitchell Report thing.)  We don't often see our players talking about politics, doing ads for politicians, or even speaking out much about their personal political views.  We want our sports to entertain, not polarize.  So when we see our own Magglio Ordóñez booed relentlessly by his countrymen, it rather strikes home.

Now, I understand the position of those who jeered Ordóñez.  I'm not well versed in Venezuelan politics, but I'd be pretty upset if the sitting president were trying to erase term limits and generally enlarging his own power as much as possible, while reducing freedoms for ordinary citizens.

I must say, however, that it pained me to see Magglio enduring the ire of so many.  His performance during the series was not good, and the commentators hinted that the booing may have gotten under his skin.  His Team Venezuela comrades (no pun intended) were supportive, even attempting to quell the crowd at one point.  I'm sure some of them hold differing views, but chose to put them aside on the diamond.

When the season begins, and I find myself in my usual right-field seat, I admit I'll be cheering Magglio despite our possible differences off the field--and I suspect he'll get a heartier than usual greeting from Tigers fans, who may want to show him that we know how to compartmentalize our feelings and ignore such pesky things as conscience in the name of baseball.

The Brotherhood

Tonight I attended the athletic awards ceremony for the high school at which my  husband coaches the boys and girls basketball teams.  It's a very, very small school--Class D here in Michigan, and under 70 students total.  I listened as my husband spoke at length about the teams.  Most striking was not stories detailing victories during the season, or an individual's performance, but rather him speaking from the heart about "the brotherhood."  He said that it was a sense of brotherhood that he prized most in coaching, not Xs and Os, not championships, not triple-doubles, not scoring titles.  I watched him choke with genuine emotion as he told of bonding with players, hoping they would come back and mentor younger players after they've graduated--which countless numbers of them have done year after year.

It made me think of the professional leagues, and whether there is such a thing as brotherhood at that level.  I'd like to think there is, despite the mandate to win, despite the pecuniary interests of owners, broadcast entities and players.  There are many times when it seems that's all there is to pro sports--the $.  Owners raising tickets prices during tough economic times.  A merry-go-round of players who do not stay with one team, but follow money like a heat-seeking missile.  General managers trading away a fan favorite for the flavor of the month.

But then there are moments like after the Tigers won the 2006 ALDS, when players emerged from the clubhouse to share the victory with the fans, spraying them liberally with champagne, running around the the ballpark high-fiving eager revelers, sharing the unadulterated joy.  There's the player who takes a few extra moments to sign an autograph and encourage a young child, who stands awestruck in the presence of his or her hero.  There are players who give the home-town discount to stay with a club they've come to feel as home, with fans who give the keys to the city to these loyal sons.

I think there is a brotherhood.  If there wasn't, I think professional sports would dry up and stadiums would stand empty.  I know that teammates, coaches and staff share in a brotherhood to which we fans are not privy.  But I sure appreciate when they crack the door and give us a glimpse.