No No Redux

Justin Verlander.

Wonder Twin Powers Activate!

So, my friend Nicole sponsored a trip to the CoPa yesterday (thank you!), and a few strange adventures occurred. First of all, it was such a beautiful day. The sun was out, there was not a cloud in the sky, and I even needed to apply SUNSCREEN. You must recognize that this beautiful day was an aberration of eric proportions for this Spring-that-never-was. It was glorious.

Get a load of this. The first game that Nicole and I attended this year was on April 12. At this game, Josh Hamilton broke his shoulder sliding into home on that notorious play. This time, Eric Chavez broke his foot sliding into third. Coincidence? I think not! We obviously have the mysterious power to fracture bones of the opposition with our very presence at the park. We were thinking that we should be sure to attend a White Sox game next.

It was Paws' 16th birthday celebration (sigh). I'm not gonna lie to you. Mascots creep me out. I spent the day trying to avoid the myriad mascot representatives that were brought in for the festivities. We had a close call by the escalators, but I managed to escape without being accosted. Muddy and Muddona were there from the Hens, the Pirates' Parrot, Sparty, and some really scary looking clown were there among some mercenaries like the Bell Tire tire and the Comcast remote (come on). Paws got a new car driven out by his father! See photo evidence below. All photos in this post are courtesy of Nicole Maitland and may not be reused without expressed written permission.

Nicole is a big Will Rhymes fan. She was none too pleased with Flea getting pushed out of the big club by Mr. Sizemore. She has begun a grass-roots campaign with the slogan "Bring Back Will." She vows to send this cryptic message to Jim Leyland himself every day until Rhymes regains his footing in the bigs. Needless to say, her slogan got a lot of play yesterday, since Sizemore whiffed three times.

I have found the one person in the world who does not like Curtis Granderson. Nicole insisted on calling him Traitor throughout the game, despite my protests that he didn't ask to be traded. She wished a lousy performance on poor little CJ, with mixed results. Curtis was one for three, with a single, walk and a strikeout. I felt bad for Grandy. He didn't really deserve to be bad-mouthed like that.

Boesch had himself quite a day at the plate, single, home run, three RBI. He also reached base on one of the THREE Yankee errors. Funny stuff. I take anything the other team gives me. Sloppy play? Yes, I take it. If you want to turn the game into bush league stuff, I am happy to oblige.

Burnett had a no-hitter going into the sixth, but we promptly jinxed it up by mentioning it loudly and repeatedly, and generally acting like idiots. It worked, so don't question our methods. Thank you. We did fool a guy sitting next to us. He looked over and asked if we were Yankee fans. We laughed and said no. He later realized we were serious fans and discussed some baseball matters with us. He and his girlfriend left early to "beat traffic." Might want to just catch it on FSN next time, my friends. Why bother hauling it all the way to park to bail before the game is over? I'm sorry. That's stupid.

Kid Rick was not at his best, but managed to eke a quality start out of it, and Jim Leyland ran him out there for the seventh after he had already thrown 106 pitches! I was agape, and terrified. It worked out fine, however, and my fears were unwarranted...I guess. The outing ended up with Porcello throwing a career high 120 pitches. /shudders

Finally, some guy dove into the Yankee dugout during the game and was promptly jumped on and pinned down until a phalanx of security arrived to escort the guy to Tigers jail. I've already written once about how Joe Girardi is an emotionless automaton, but Nicole checked ESPN's account of the incident during the game and it said that Girardi did not appear to have much of a reaction. Big surprise. The guy's a droid, I am convinced.

The Magic Is Gone?

I have failed you in a tragically catastrophic way. Wednesday night, I braved certain rain showers to attend the game. I felt confident that Justin Verlander would put down a stellar performance. I even hinted that he might touch greatness again. I had a “feeling” about it. I never doubted my ability to bring home a win for the club. I’ve never been more wrong.

What in the name of balls and strikes happened here? Verlander threw exactly 100 pitches over five innings, and went on to pitch the sixth for a total of 114. He gave up a three run homer to Justin Smoak in the first inning. Why did we even pitch to Smoak? Cust is scuffling so badly right now. Sigh. Justin wasn’t horrific, but he wasn’t spectacular as I somehow mistakenly felt he might be.

The rain. It was almost plague-like. It would come down lightly for ten minutes, then taper off. Then I’d just take of my rain jacket hood for five minutes, and down she’d come again, sometimes picking up in intensity for short periods, but never lasting too long. Relentless, she reappeared again and again. I have to give it up to the fans, though. It wasn’t a large crowd, but hardly anyone left (until the wheels came off and we gave up six runs in the 9^th, then it was mass exodus.) I was duly impressed with the hardiness of those in attendance. It was no fair weather bunch.

Although I’d like to blame the rain for my inefficacy, I can’t do it. It would be a cop out. Thankfully, I have a proper scapegoat. I invited Rogo of DesigNate Robertson to join me at the park, but was brutally rebuffed. He said something about Lost reruns, or watching birds eat vomit or something. Loser. He should be the target of your ire. If he had been there, Justin would never have given up a three-run homer to Smoak. Never woulda happened. Yes, I am selling it, and you are buying. Would you prefer me to provide details of the meltdown from the top of the ninth? Didn't think so.

The Other Guys

I was driving home from the Fort Wayne Children's Zoo today when the game started. The only station I could find that had the game on was (gasp!) a Sox station. Hey, I was just happy to have a feed at that point. Ed Farmer and Darrin Jackson are the Sox' radio guys. It was actually quite enlightening to listen to the game from the opposition's point of view.

Farmer and Jackson were (rightfully) incredulous about Brad Penny's weight as listed in the media guide. He's listed at 6'4", 230 pounds. Both agreed that 250 is more like it. They also said it "looked about right" that Penny is from Oklahoma. These cracks were mild and no laughs were had (on air) at Penny's expense, but they were duly noted by yours truly. I am happy to go behind enemy lines to dig up dirt and report back to you.

As the game wore on with Brad Penny throwing a no-hitter, the Sox guys felt the need to downplay his performance a bit. They said that there were some hittable pitches in there, and the Sox players just weren't hitting them. I guess there's probably truth to that. They did admit that Penny had thrown a few very nice pitches here and there. The funny thing is, that when I started to lose the Sox station, and tuned in to a Detroit broadcast, Dan and Jim said Penny was brilliant. I guess we're all homers.

The other notable characteristic of the Sox broadcasters was that they were very intent on telling the listener what pitch Edwin Jackson should be throwing next and why. For example, they said that with the count at 3-2, and having just thrown a slider out of the strike zone, you better come right back with that same pitch, because it's the last pitch the hitter will think you're throwing. This went on pretty much the whole time I was listening, which was through the fifth inning.

Overall, I found the Sox broadcasters to be boring. I wouldn't want to listen to them over 162 games.

Now, I must say that today's game was all kinds of fun from the Detroit perspective. A no hitter into the sixth, Tigers hits all 'round, I got something to write about (even if I had to make a run into enemy territory to do it), and a 9-0 shutout, and EIGHT IN A ROW TAKEN FROM THE EVIL SOX! Triumph, plain and simple.

A Herald for the Unheralded

During last night's game, I mean during today's early morning game, Jose Valverde had finished his warmups and was kind of just standing around, warming his hands, waiting for the top of the ninth to end. The camera zeroed in on Papa Grande several times, and each time, standing next to him in his gear, was bullpen catcher Scott Pickens. You may have missed this because it was after 1:30 am Eastern Time. I am currently evaluating my own sanity after staying up. It was worth it, don't get me wrong, but today I am like the walking undead.

I have always been intrigued by the bullpen catcher. When I first became aware of the existence of the position, I had many questions I needed answered. Is this person on the roster? (No.) Is he on the coaching staff? (No.) How is his position defined? (Non-roster personnel.) How much does he make? (The Wall Street Journal states that most make less than $60,000 per year, and many much less. Many supplement their incomes with other jobs in the off-season, and the Diamondback's bp catcher Jeff Motuzas does many strange feats for money--like eating contests and Jackass-style stunts.)

Also, I kept thinking, this must be one of the coolest jobs on the planet! You get to be at the ball park at all times. (I must ask you, is there anything better than being at the ball park? Many of my waking hours are spent scheming up ways to be at the ball park more often.) You are working with the players. You are seeing every game up close and personal. You are important. You throw batting practice. You get to play catch with pitchers. You tell them if their arm slots are consistent.

Detroit bullpen catcher Scott Pickens was personally selected by Magglio Ordóñez and Brandon Inge to pitch to them during their respective appearances in the All Star Game's Home Run Derby. Is this not all kinds of awesome?

Now, I may well be romanticizing this position, and the bullpen catchers may feel underpaid and unsung, and they may tell us it's a whole lot of grunt work for minor ducats. They may be afflicted by the unflinching reality that they weren't good enough to make the major leagues as a "real" catcher. I don't know. But I do know that I find bullpen catchers supremely cool.

The Trauma Chronicles

Sigh. Joel Zumaya has been moved to the 60 day disabled list. The only good news here is that a spot on the 40-man roster is freed up. Poor Zoom is simply doomed to be hurt....all...the...time. It would be so wrenching to see him join Mark Fidrych in the hall of fabulous flameouts. I hope that doesn't happen to Joel. He might not handle it as well as The Bird did. Not many would.

Carlos Guillen has NOT resumed baseball activities. Thank you for that bit of disheartening news, Rick Eymer. I feel like sobbing now. Kevin Rand says he's working on strength and movement, and IS NOT READY for baseball activities. I guess it's not surprising. A much younger Grady Sizemore had microfracture surgery in June and is just now coming back. Carlos just had surgery in mid-September 2010. Also, to put everyone further into a dark cloud, is Carlos going to have the lateral movement needed to play second base when he is cleared to return???? Think of the young gun Scott Sizemore coming off ankle surgery last year. He could not move right. What makes us think that Guillen, who is old in baseballian years, can do better?

Ryan Perry is recovering from a strange eye infection and secondary corneal damage (due to him rubbing his eye like a two-year old). A course in fundamental medical principles should be required for our ball players, people. They have plenty of down time during travel. Just hire someone to do presentations on the team plane. Be sure to follow up with quizzes, and require passing grades. Anyone who fails will not be permitted to partake of team subsidized snacks during games. That's right, no giant gum balls, no sunflower seeds, no Big League Chew. Yeah, I'm one tough cookie.

Victor Martinez has a gimpy groin and will not catch tonight, for sure, says Skip. Possible DH. Um, yeah, I would think that squatting with a bad groin would be......a very delicate matter. Let us hope together with all our collective powers that this is not a lingering thing.

Magglio Ordóñez' ankle fills up with fluid periodically, and is often sore-ish. These things make me very uncomfortable. This is my Tiger. I want him to excel always. His defense is already oft maligned. Now his ankle is very sensitive and prone to being irritated. No. Not. Good.

I would like to encourage the establishment of a M.B.S.H. unit for our Tigers. They appear to need it very much. Besides, I always loved Hawkeye and Trapper.

42

Today is Jackie Robinson Day. It's a day I'm very excited about, but it's hard to express something meaningful without sounding clichéd or sappy. My son is reading a biography of Jackie Robinson right now. I am hoping it impacts his view of baseball, because after attending a baseball camp last fall in which he was the only African-American kid, he told me "baseball's a white kid's sport." I tried to tell him it's not. I recited a laundry list of black players in MLB today. But the truth is the number of African-Americans in baseball has been declining for a long time. It's good to see programs like Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities (RBI) and companies in the Detroit area funding urban youth baseball. I can only hope my son will stay with baseball, because I absolutely love going to his games.

How can you quantify someone being willing to endure slurs and worse hurled at him not only fans, but players as well? I'm not that strong. I know it. He's not the only brave one. He was just the first. Many other qualified players were denied membership in the elitest of clubs, the Major Leagues. Others got in only during the twilight of their careers, and never got to show the country the true measure of their talent.

I'm glad there is a Negro Leagues Museum to provide a showcase for these players who went largely unrecognized in their time. I'm glad that the league has Negro Leagues weekend each year. Seeing the Detroit Stars uniforms always stirs me up.

I'm sorry I can't be more eloquent on the subject, but I think a lot of people have similar feelings. Let's remember together.