Collective Exhale

I hope we're all using this last off-day of the season to catch up on some non-Tiger-related areas of our lives. However, I admit that most of my life is consumed by the Tigers and Tiger-related themes. See, I'm writing this post right now. I've read Tiger blogs today, along with the Tigers web site, and local newspapers' Tiger coverage. The phrase "get a life" does come to mind, but I shove it aside dismissively.

This weekend's series nearly became my undoing. After Saturday's wretched loss, I found myself near tears contemplating our season ending without the playoffs. Get a hold of yourself, woman!

Well, we got the win yesterday, behind unlikely starter Nate Robertson. I'd imagine he feels pretty satisfied right now, contributing in large part to a significant victory. It's a far cry from losing a spot in the rotation out of Spring Training, grousing about it openly to the media, and hearing cries for his outright release.

Will any of you be attending the 1984 anniversary celebration on September 28th?

Could you take a moment to share memories of that fabled season? If you're too young to remember it first-hand, tell us some stories that were told to you. You may have also watched some of the games as "classics." Tell us what you thought of the '84 squad.

I'll tell you this, I'll never forget Kirk Gibson and Sparky Anderson talking about how Goose Gossage didn't want to walk Gibby, and the glorious shot Gibby punished him with that day in Game 5. How Sparky's hand went to his mouth as he watched the ball get launched into the stands. How Dick Williams must have kicked his own tail quite literally for letting Gossage talk him out of that walk. Glory days.

Here's to having some glory days to savor from 2009.

An Apology Is In Order

In my post yesterday I said that only Justin Verlander and Placido Polanco showed up for yesterday's game.

That was oh so wrong.

Gerald Laird continued his brilliant dominance of would-be base stealers, cutting down Carlos Gomez! and Denard Span. I can't believe some people persist in grousing about his lack of offense. Are you serious?

I'll take this guy any day of the week. Our problem isn't that our catcher isn't hitting, it's that our entire team isn't hitting. I'm far more inclined to forgive a light-hitting catcher than say a light hitting third baseman. Just sayin'.

Anyway, I'm very sorry Gerald Laird. You showed up in a big way yesterday.

Pounding the Pavement

I can thank the Tigers for being the source of a unique experience for me tonight. It marked the first time I was so angry after a game that I had to run it off.

I'm no fitness freak. Far, far from it, as those who know me will attest. I likes to eat. However, there were a truckload of toxins coursing through my system after the Metrodome meltdown, and I was just enough in my right mind to know that I didn't want to start abusing my family members or punting my 11-week old kitten across the living room like a football.

So, I pulled on the sports bra and some shorts and took off. I only wish I had left right after Lyon surrendered the three run shot to Cuddyer, because at that moment my adrenaline would have propelled me for at least 10 miles. I am a "loyal" fan however (translation "stubborn and stupid"), so I stuck around for the rest of the debacle. Glad Verlander and Polanco showed up for the game, since noone else seemed to feel the need.

I'm really not one to make excuses, so I'm not going to mention that the Metrodome is evil incarnate and must be destroyed. I'm not one to lay blame in a team sport, so I'm not going to fault Jim Leyland for putting Don Kelly in left field at the aforementioned Dome. I'm also not a liar, so I'll tell you that I was ranting like a madwoman when Kelly lost that fly ball against the accursed Metrodome ceiling.

I've already been a wreck for these past two games, and now Nate Robertson is starting tomorrow. Not quite sure I'll be making it through the game without a ventilator or intravenous tranquilizers.

Out Walking the Ledge

Sooooooooo, how do you feel this morning? (That is, if you're able to drag your tail out of bed and stagger to the computer.) Like someone worked you over like Ali's punching bag? Like you're hung over but you didn't even drink? Like your best girl (or guy) dumped you unceremoniously and without warning? All of the above?

Myself, I'm still reeling. Better recover soon, there's a day game today, folks.

I'm trying to get some perspective and quell the panic, I really am. But the way we've been playing is not helping matters at all.

Porcello did his job, I mean he didn't give up any three-run homers (cough, Jackson, Galarraga, Washburn, Fien, Bonderman, cough).

Now today we have to face Carl I-Can't-Shut-Down-Anyone-But-the-Tigers Pavano. I've already set a plan in motion to sabotage him so he can't start today. It involves luring him under the I35W Bridge, where another collapse appears imminent. Wish me luck.

Shaking in My Boots

Um, I'm what you might mildly term a nervous wreck for tonight's opener against the Twins at the Metrodump. We play like garbage there most nights, and it's no wonder, what with the giant garbage bag of an outfield wall they have. That place is a nightmare. Our record against the Twins this year at the dome is a terrifying 1-5. Let's all give thanks the place is being shuttered after this season.

Another reason for my trepidation is Minnesota's manager Ron Gardenhire. I respect him highly as a manger, and he squeezes more victories out of a smaller payroll than anyone I know. He also seems to be a genius in the motivational department, as the Twins are always making a late run at the playoffs.

Why is the fact that Justin Morneau and Joe Crede (wretched Tiger killer) are both out for the season not making me feel any better? Sigh.

I feel a great need for moral support for tonight's game. Shall we designate a sports bar to meet up, hold each other's hands and make it through this game together? Just name the place, I will be there.

About that Bat Flip...

I guess I'd better clarify what I said in my previous post about enjoying watching Aubrey Huff flip his bat after hitting a game-tying three-run shot off Toronto's Jason Frasor in the 8th inning of Monday's game.

I enjoyed watching the replay, because it appeared that Huff was overcome by the moment, the importance of the hit, and how much it meant in a pennant race. The flip came really quickly, and the look on his face was like "yes--I just hit a big home run for my new team that is trying to win the division."

I don't believe the flip was intended to show up Frasor. There is quite a little furor going over the whole incident in some discussions I've seen.

I don't condone showboating, but it doesn't really bother me that much when a player pauses for a moment after hitting a big home run. Sorry, it just doesn't. Does it bother you when a pitcher shows emotion over getting a big strikeout to get out of a jam, or preserve a slim lead? Not me.

Anyway, congrats to Huff, looks like we'll be needing some more of his heroics, what with the Twins deciding to win every game despite being without Justin Morneau and noted Tiger-killer Joe Crede.

By the way, if the Tigers don't win one for Ernie Harwell tonight, I won't be getting over it any time soon.

Who Needs Offense? We'll Win on Errors

Aubrey Huff feels like a real Tiger now. No more cheesy fake-fur costume for him, those stripes are genuine. His three run shot in the 9th to tie up a game that felt lost injected the remaining soggy fans at the CoPa with fresh fervor. Watching the replay, and seeing him flip his bat after the no-doubter was especially touching.

When will people learn that you NEVER, EVER pencil it in? How did it feel to hear the walk-off win from your car, genius?

Marco Scutaro needed a few pats on the back last night as he walked to the clubhouse. Two errors (his 9th & 10th of the season) made the difference late in the game for our Bengals. Amidst the happy smiles and high fives after the game, I felt a small twinge. It feels odd to have the game handed to you like that. I wonder how Avila felt after hitting into a seemingly sure double-play, then getting mobbed on the field as the hitter of the walk-off...error? The feeling didn't linger for me, however. A win is a win no matter how cheap.

According to MLB Network's "Quick Pitch," the Tigers have now won 22 games in their last at bat, second only to the Yankees' 25 such wins, and tied with the Dodgers. Not bad company, and it makes for some high drama.

Oh Justin, will you ever exit adolescence? I know it seems totally unfair to pick on a 16-game winner, who has shown us at times this year that he is ready to put on some big boy britches. After getting out of a first-and-third-no-out jam to preserve his fifth scoreless frame, and just when I thought he had shown remarkable maturity, he melted down in the 6th. Sigh. It was mildly ironic to see some bleacher fans in right tracking Justin's strikeouts with large poster-board Ks. Justin Verlander--7 innings, 10 hits, 5 earned runs and 9 strikeouts! Woo!?

I remind myself that a win is a win.