Deport Jim Leyland

That's the new name of this blog.

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.

Breakdown

I have now been reduced to a blubbering pile of snot, tears and tissues. I am in a state of total inability to cope. There's nothing left on which to maintain a hold. It has all slipped through my fingers and gone bye bye into the stratosphere.

Jim Leyland suspended for spitting sunflower seeds on umpire.

Tigers run out a lineup in which Will Rhymes is leadoff hitter.

Tigers acquire Jhonny Peralta.

I begin to laugh in maniacal, frightening bursts that are akin to wracked sobs.

Rays walk Miguel Cabrera when runners are on first and second to load bases and face scuffling Brennan Boesch. Strategy works.

Seriously. I got nothin'. Am totally bereft of sanity.

That's it. I can't write another sentence.

Lucky Bracelet Works Its Magic

I had a Detroit Tigers bracelet that looked much like the one pictured above, but it had blue stitching instead of red. Late last season, the bracelet went missing. I wore it to every game, so I was extremely disturbed that it was apparently lost.

Lo and behold, what did I find last week? The very same Tigers bracelet, which had found its way into a hole in the lining of my purse, and had been languishing in the very bag I use only for Tigers games. So, in point of fact, it had accompanied me to the games, but was not adorning my wrist. Well, lost treasure was found, and I wore the bracelet to last night’s game.

And what do you know?? After the Jays inexplicably pitch to Miguel Cabrera, but intentionally walk Brennan Boesch, unlikely hero Ryan Raburn hits a three-run double to put us ahead for good. Yes, the lucky bracelet is responsible. Yes, you can thank me for the win. Yes, I believe in its power. You should too. It may salvage this wreck of a season. It may help Magglio Ordóñez’ ankle to heal in record time. I am only sorry I wasn’t there Saturday night with my talisman to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. I’m sorry Magglio. I let you down.

Hey, if you send money, I will travel to St. Pete and bring us victory against the Rays. I am willing to make such sacrifices.

Rogo of DesigNate Robertson and I agreed, it felt like someone close to you died after Saturday night’s game. It was if our season had suddenly been terminated, but we still have to go through the motions for two more months. Now don’t get me wrong. I haven’t totally given up on us, but things are looking more than a little bleak, you know? I hope the young rooks go out there and play their tails off, and show everyone a little something, but you just can’t bank on it. Things might get a little weighty for them. Two outs, two on, down a pair of runs…that sort of thing.

So, encourage the youngsters, pull for them, and be patient with them...and never underestimate the power of the bracelet.

Mourning Magglio

I can only say that fate smiled upon me tonight in one small way. I did not witness the accident at home plate in which Magglio Ordóñez broke his ankle. If I had, I would have most likely burst into tears on the spot. Seriously. As it was, when I watched the clip on MLB.com, I felt queasy and misty all at the same time. It was horrifying. And devastating. And so not fixable.

Now some people might be all smug and satisfied that Magglio's option for next year will almost surely not vest.

Not me. Magglio has been MY TIGER since the middle of the 2006 season, when I asked myself in all seriousness, who IS my Tiger??? I didn't have one particular Tiger at the time, and the campaign finally got a hold of me. I had to have a Tiger. I settled on Magglio, and have never looked back. I'm very loyal. You may or may not remember that last year when everyone was calling for Magglio's outright release, I stood by him. I don't want to lose Magglio to free agency if his option doesn't kick in. I'm sorry. It's just how I feel. Sure there are fleeter afoot. Sure, he's the other side of 35 now. Whatever. I want him.

To top it all off, our playoff hopes are severely impacted. Our lack of depth has now reached crisis point. Terrific. You'll probably tell me next that Chicago traded for Prince Fielder. You know what? If they did, please spare me the news at least one more day.

Tonight is dark, maudlin, and hopeless. I don't think I'll sleep a wink.

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.

A Game Was Won and Other Nonsense

In the fourth inning of today’s game, Austin Jackson hit a soft ground ball right back to pitcher Ricky Romero. It was as sure an out any, yet Jackson ran down the line as if he sniffed an infield hit. He was thrown out easily, but I was impressed by Jackson’s hustle. Now, some might say work smarter not harder, meaning Jackson should have jogged down the line, because in case of an error, he would still have time to make it to first safely. I think young Jackson just has an all-out mentality, which is impossible not to admire. He shows us every night that he never gives up on a ball. Many times, I’ve thought he had no shot at getting to a ball, and he has proven me wrong more often than not. A lot of people have joked about how Jackson has put Curtis Granderson out of the minds of Detroit fans. It’s hard to argue that he hasn’t. He’s played defense way above expectations, and his hitting has been fantastic too, if overshadowed a little by fellow rookie Brennan Boesch. I grant you his batting average on balls in play (BABIP) is outrageous and unsustainable, but if he cuts down on strikeouts as that number comes back to earth, he’ll be ok.

Sigh. In the bottom of the seventh, Rod Allen warns that if Leyland sends Worth and Jackson strikes out, he’s a dead duck at second. Moments later the warning is unheeded and we have a strike ‘em out, throw ’em out double play on our hands. Sigh. Mike Rogers could pretty easily revive his Fire Jim Leyland blog right now. I guess he’s too busy over at Bless You Boys, but just sayin’.

Well, all’s well that ends well here today as Papa Grande got the save, and got right back on the hill after the wildness that characterized last night’s outing—an outing calculated to give us all nightmares. Thank you Big Potato for showing us that was just an anomaly. WHEW.

In the Fox post-game show, Ryan Fields interviewed Miguel Cabrera. He asked Miggy how he continues to come through in the clutch. The Puma played the humble hero’s role, deflecting the praise, giving credit instead to teammates for getting on base in those big situations, and saying how they all have to work together to get it done. Adorable. And I really don’t get why people whine about a big language barrier with Miguel. I speak virtually no Spanish, and I understood him perfectly. Sure, there’s an accent, but if you just listen a smidge more carefully than usual, you’ll be fine. I like when it’s not just Brandon Inge in the post game interviews.

Finally, I must protest against stupidity. Someone on sports talk radio was talking about acquiring Adam Dunn and moving Miggy to third. Are you a moron? Miguel has shown he just doesn't have it at third. He plays very well at first. He's a legitimate triple crown candidate. And you want to mess with this???? Please, go away. Stay away from my Tigers. Go become a Milwaukee Brewers fan, would you?