Tigers On Top

Sorry for my recent absence, but I can’t promise it won’t be happening for the next couple days. Everything’s been insane with getting ready to move back to Ann Arbor, and today I’m moving into my new apartment. There will be rampant and delightful insanity probably for the next week. Heehee, I’m home!!

Last night we got off the plane in Detroit and headed straight for the ballpark. Do not pass Go do not collect $200. We (we being me and my parents) spotted Jonesy behind the batting cage, where he and Al Leiter talked animatedly for twenty minutes or so. We’d yell his name whenever he turned sort of in our direction, and getting nothing, we’d almost decided to head up to the Tigers stores to do some bigtime shopping (the only kind I like!). And then Jonesy turned and made a beeline for us! There was this tunnel right next to where we were, so he came into the mouth of it for hugs (me and Mom) and a handshake (Dad). We didn’t get to chat too long but it was so fantastic to see him in Detroit!!! He said something about we should have a good night, and all three of us went, No, you have a good night and we’ll have one. As in beat the Yankees or we won’t be gleeful.

And boy did the Tygs ever give the Yankees a thrashing!!! Even Mom had fun–she absolutely HATES the Yankees. She was doing little dances up in our nosebleed seats, and talking up a storm with this sweet Canadian guy sitting with us. Hits galore and pitching like we love to see from Justin Verlander. We scored one in the first, two in the second, three in the third and Dad said at this rate we were going to beat the Yankees 45-0. Which would have been really cool, but I’ll take 16-0 won’t you? Especially since Cleveland won, so we just kept pace.

It’s hard to decide what to even focus on, there was so much good stuff!!! Verlander went seven fantastic innings on a night when the bullpen really needed a rest; we lit up Mussina, with every starter plus Maybin getting a hit of some kind; Polly hit a homer!!!!; Brandon hit three doubles!!! and wonder of wonders, Casey of all people tripled!!! I saw him make the turn for third and just started laughing–not derisively or anything, of course, cause I love Casey, but when somebody as slow as Sean is about to get a triple off the YANKEES how can you not giggle? Man, the seventh inning was just serendipitous. A lovely little merry-go-round of Tygs trotting around the bases. That bases-clearing double by Brandon was so sweet, since he’s one of our faves and he’s been struggling. And then to see Maybin get to stretch his legs a bit with the RBI double … mmmm.

With Maybin in and a 16-0 lead, Leyland gave him center and put Curtis in left. Can’t say I recall the last time Curtis played left. That could just be because I have a really bad memory, haha. But anyways, hilariously each ball of the eighth inning that became an out was hit to Grandy, who pulled everything in gracefully. Even Mom had to agree with me when I started rhapsodizing about how beautiful he is, whatever he’s doing in the game.

And thus we took three of four from the Yankees, our first series win in a million years. I very much enjoyed the first game (imagine my surprise to get home from a night out on the West Coast and find the Tigers still on!!) and beating the Yankees in 11 innings after a four hour rain delay (they could not in good conscience send all those incredible people who stayed to the end home with a loss), but I think I enjoyed this more. Probably the most of any regular season game I’ve ever attended! Love to see the Tigers win, love to see them beat the living crap out of anyone, but to do it to the Yankees? Oh, paradise.

And this time not by Jason Grilli. By the Indians. Little Nate just can’t catch a break apparently. Let us review. Eight and two-thirds shutout innings. No walks. Just barely good enough for a no decision, because once again our offense decided to take the day off. And Zoom actually looked like a pitcher who’s been sidelined the past innumerable months.

How big was that collective groan when Mr. Moonshot’s moonshot went foul? With all the Tigers fans in the world, I bet we were heard from space. Well, maybe not that far away. And then we blew a golden shot in the bottom of the ninth. All this after Saturday’s debacle, which after that brief mention I will now put into the Box O’ Repression. Thus we are 2 1/2 back as we head into a four game series with the Evil Empire.

We gotta pull it together and play like it’s 2006. That’s all I’m gonna say, cause I feel like a broken record. Interesting random note: The basic natures of my parents are now at war, thanks to the Tigers. Mom is making gloom and doom pronouncements at every opportunity, and now she’s got ammo, I hate to admit; and Dad of course, who is at heart a delusional Brooklyn Dodgers fan, maintains that the Tigers are in a fine position and will be in the playoffs at the end of the season.

Here are the pitching matchups for the Yankees series. Tonight will feature the Rocket against the Kid, Roger Clemens vs. Andrew Miller. Rocket’s been at least a little mortal this season (what he’s played of it) but then again Miller’s mortal too. Gods don’t strain hamstrings. Hopefully Clemens still has bad juju when it comes to Comerica Park–remember when he was going for Win 300 in 2003 against basically the Mud Hens, and somehow the Tigers took that game to (many) extra innings and denied him the milestone? Mmmm, good times. Game 2 will be Bondo vs. Wang. Just because Wang annoys me in general, I’ll give the edge to Bondo (with the caveat, of course, that somehow he manages NOT to give up any runs in the first inning.) I drool at the prospect of Game 3, because that could be reeeeeally cool–Phil Hughes, who the Yankees have been high on forever, vs. Jair Jurrjens (who henceforward shall be referred to as JJ, following Todd Jones’ lead). If JJ pitches like he has the past two games (with a bit more resemblance to his second start), that could turn into a big W for us.

Which brings us to Game 4, which has more than the usual significance for yours truly. Verlander vs. Mussina, first of all. Mussina’s been SUCKING, which is highly uplifting, and Justin is Justin. I remember my parents calling me from Oakland when the Tigers came (this was after I’d gone back to school) to tell me how flippin’ impressed they were with Justin. I’ve only gotten to see him pitch once, and that was the second game of this year’s Oakland series. Bleh. I will be present and accounted for at Game 4, hopefully to watch Justin kick some major ass on those pinstripers. Not only that, but Monday will my first day back in Michigan for good!! (For good meaning for my senior year.) I think that even if the Tigers should lose, gods forbid, I will be floating around like a drunken bumblebee (or a knuckleball!) and unable to stop smiling. In case this wasn’t obvious, I can’t WAIT to get home to Michigan!!!!!

Was that a gorgeous pitching duel or what?! All hail Jair Jurrjens. I find it really difficult to reconcile the fact that he’s my age and pitching crazy well in the major leagues. I also find it difficult to pronounce his name. But hey, you gotta love him right now!

The offense showed up juuuust enough for Jurrjens to get the win. Back to back homers from Maggs and Guillen, and there are all your runs, rook. Do what you will. Jurrjens decided the prudent thing to do would be to continue confounding the Indians (while allowing a solo home run for a bit more spice). That was the only hit they got! Heeheehee!

To make everything even more joyous, our beloved Joel Zumaya closed out the seventh, with Rodney shutting them down in the eighth, and Jonesy showing us the Strike Machine half of his nature in the ninth. That is how all games should go. Tygs get at least one more run than the other team, starter goes at least six innings, then Zoom Zoom, Rodney, and Jonesy. Perfect!

Not so perfect was the road trip. As you may have guessed, I was also on the road during the Tigers road trip. I was in Iowa while they were in the grand metropolises of Cleveland and New York, but whatever. As they lost horribly and frequently I went to Field of Dreams, the insane Iowa State Fair, and saw my friend get married. (Yes, the wedding was the purpose of the trip; otherwise you’d NEVER catch me in Iowa … well, except for a gymnastics meet in Iowa City, haha). Then we almost got stuck in Des Moines as we were trying to leave, and got actually stuck in Denver. Add this to the losing and the not pitching and the not hitting and I was not the happiest camper ever.

But once again, all seems to be well! If Jurrjens can beat the Indians, so can Justin! Looking ahead (but trying not to look tooooo closely at the fact that we’re playing Cleveland and the Yankees all week), I shall arrive home in Michigan just in time to see the final game of the homestand! So hopefully the Tygs will be on a huge roll by then and I’ll get to see them sweep the Yankees. (Yeah, I’m a tiny bit over-optimistic sometimes.)

I feel much better now, don’t you? Yesterday we got what we’ve been so sorely lacking–a quality start from a starter, and from our Stopper, Justin Verlander, no less. I thought the offense was going to screw him over, actually. After the solo blast by Mr. Moonshot, the Tygs sat on that lead like England football. And as so often happens to England, all that sitting led to the other team finally scratching out a lead of their own.

But here came Magglio to save the day, with a big ol’ two run homer! Do I feel sorry for Danny Haren? Nope, can’t say I do. Justin had to overcome two bonehead plays, and did it with the poise and control we’ve come to expect from him. What was Ryan Raburn doing when he just stood by and watched Carlos Guillen smother a hot grounder and then dive feet-first back into second to get the out, just barely in time? If Raburn had covered, it wouldn’t have been nearly so close. And later on, Brandon Inge tagged third base instead of the runner when there was no force, allowing the inning to continue. But Justin picked up his teammates and didn’t allow any runs after said brain farts, as a good pitcher does.

The bullpen, for once, did not suck either. Bobby Seay came in for his one out and was promptly replaced by Lopez (recently called up–now that we’re within shouting distance of Toledo, Mud Hens seem to be flocking to Detroit) who was actually good as well! Then, just like is supposed to happen, Rodney got the scoreless eighth and Jonesy the scoreless ninth (after the Tygs scored two insurance runs for him, one on a triple by Brandon, a daddy for the second time) for his 31st save. Soon Zumaya will be back, and then games will once again end in the sixth inning for all practical purposes.

And then today, Little Nate finally got the win he so richly deserved last time out. This one wasn’t a quality start, but it didn’t have to be. Hard as it is to believe now, the A’s actually jumped out to the lead on a homer by Scooter, who resembles Charlie Maxwell in that he has his best offensive days on Sundays. The Tigers responded to the A’s 2-0 lead in absolutely grand fashion, pounding out eight runs in the second inning alone. Magglio (who else?) led off with a solo homer; many hits and four runs later, he became the first Tiger since Al Kaline in 1955 to hit two homers in the same inning. That second one was a three-run job. Possibly the best part of the second homer was the shot FSN Bay Area then showed of Justin Verlander and Todd Jones in the dugout, doing a hilarious and adorable little dance of triumph. (Dad and I felt the need to replay this several times in slow motion, howling with laughter.) Maggs is totally crazy, and deserving of happy triumphant dugout dances of celebration. He could singlehandedly pull us out of our slump.

The A’s began chipping away–given the way this series has gone, I was a bit apprehensive. But the Tygs managed to hold ‘em off, adding runs here and there so that by the end we had eleven runs. The requisite triple today was hit by Ryan Raburn, who scored on a sac fly. We’ve had a triple in every game of the series. The A’s announcers remarked that there’s pretty much no way Neifi can ever wrestle his job back from Raburn. WAHOO!!!!!! Tim Byrdak and Yorman Bazardo provided solid (if not scoreless) relief, and since the Indians lost, we’re back in first by half a game! Yes, I realize it’s not good for us that the Yankees are the ones beating the living crap out of Cleveland, especially since we have yet another four game series coming up in the Stadium. But even so, it feels good to be back in first, even if we’re just hanging on by a fingernail.

Tomorrow will be a delicious Battle of the Chads–Chad Durbin vs. Chad Gaudin. Gaudin was pretty brilliant for a while earlier this season–I got to see one of his very lovely brilliant starts in Oakland–but has since come back to earth a bit. So hopefully our Chad will be the victorious one. I really hope there are no groansome hanging Chad jokes tomorrow night on the A’s broadcast. (Which is in HD, much to my delight–looooove seeing the Tigers in HD, even if it’s the “enemy” broadcast.) It would be great to end the homestand with three straight wins, considering that we immediately head out on the road for two at Jacobs Field and four–gulp–at Yankee Stadium against the suddenly sizzling Bombers.

Could that game have been any uglier?

Wait, don’t answer that.

Jordan Tata left his Win Mojo in Oakland. Yet the offense somehow kicked it into gear and stormed back from an 8-1 deficit to take a 9-8 lead. Mr. Moonshot announced his return with a very big bang, smashing that grand slam off Joe Blanton. And then … well, I think we all know by now the bullpen sucks. Sometimes I just don’t understand Jim Leyland. I mean, Macay McBride was pretty obviously done, as in STICK A FORK IN HIM, and yet Leyland allowed him to pitch to Jack Cust with the bases loaded? Jack Cust whose nickname is Babe? Jack Cust who has the most insane knack for gigantic dramatic home runs? That Jack Cust? Yes indeed. That Jack Cust.

That Jack Cust hit one of the most impressive homers I’ve ever seen. Straightaway center in any ballpark isn’t easy, but in our ballpark that’s just craziness. Sheer craziness, especially with the crowd being all nutso. And Cust had to feel some pressure, being up with the bases loaded and all A’s fans everywhere expecting a grand slam. He delivered. Man, did he deliver. And then the A’s added four more runs, just to make it hurt some more. At least Grandy got another triple … but man, you just think that when the Boys come back from being down so far, they’ll hang onto that lead like nobody’s business. With the Yankees and Indians playing each other, we’re losing ground on someone every day.

Verlander better be good today. The starting pitching is getting to be almost as awful as the bullpen.

One day, it seems like the Tygs can’t lose. They (well, Raburn) just won’t let it happen. Then you get days like today and yesterday where you wonder exactly how the playoffs ever seemed like a realistic idea.

The offense has gone silent again, never a good thing, and the pitching is suddenly mushy as well. Bondo didn’t have all that bad of a first today, shockingly, but he had a painful outing in general. The Tygs blew what scoring chances they had, and lost the final two games of the Devil Rays series by an aggregate score of 15-2. At least we didn’t get shut out. At least Marcus Thames is back. At least in someone’s mind, Shields and Kazmir are star pitchers in the making.

Somehow, this doesn’t make me feel any better. Nor does the idea that the A’s are coming in for four. Sure, the Greenies don’t have the most potent offense, but they do have a crazy pitching staff, despite being decimated by injuries. And a great pitching staff is not just what the doctor ordered for our offense. Neither, for that matter, is the general patience of the A’s hitters. Normally for me (as a Bay Area native) this patience is delicious–not so when the A’s are playing my Tigers. Then it’s just infuriating.

Anyways, we absolutely must get going against the A’s. Whatever it takes, get the bats hot and the pitching hotter. We must continue to breathe down Cleveland’s neck, even as the Yankees and Twins pant down ours. (Okay, that image was not very pleasant.) We still have the best damn team out there, no matter what anyone says.

Well, I think we can safely say Little Nate Robertson is back. What a performance he put on last night! I can’t remember the last time I felt that confident in one of our starting pitchers. He pitched 7 and two-thirds beautiful innings, and I was most confused when Leyland lifted him in the eighth. One out to go, come on! Nate should’ve at least gotten one chance to get said final out. He’d come that far, hadn’t he? With NINE strikeouts! And NO walks! What more could you ask of him? And for once he’d gotten support from the offense!

Nate left with a 6-2 lead and a runner on; my beloved Jason Grilli came in and by the end of his outing even I wanted to give him a swift shake and go, “What the hell are you doing?!” I would ask the same question of Jim Leyland, who normally I view as practically infallible. One, why was Nate even taken out in the first place? Two, why was Grilli allowed to pitch to Jonny Gomes, who had tripled in his last at bat (yes, Curtis lost the ball in the clouds, but still), with the bases loaded when Jason had shown that he could not throw a non-gopher strike? Three, after the freaking grand slam to tie the game, why did he KEEP GRILLI IN THERE? Only after he gave up yet another base hit–my buddy got no one out–did Leyland finally go, “Oh yeah, Byrdak’s been warm for about two innings, let’s give him a try.” Byrdak, of course, immediately got a ground out to end the inning.

At this point, I had pretty much decided that the Tigers were in fact lying on Monday. But Ryan Raburn, definitely my favorite of the Tiger Cubs, proved me completely wrong!!! The delightful boy led off the eighth with a double, and we quickly scored three runs to snatch the lead back from the nasty Devil Rays. Then my boy Jonesy came in and got his thirtieth save. Just gave up the one harmless single, and fittingly Carlos Pena made the final out. If Jonesy can get thirteen or more saves over the remainder of the season, he’ll break his own record for most saves by a Tiger in a single season! How about that?!

It was a great night for pitching and hitting alike, except for Jason’s horrific appearance (which I hope hasn’t scarred him for life; he’s a good pitcher, just had a bad night). Poor Little Nate didn’t get the win he so richly deserved, but he’s a great ballplayer so the Tigers win was plenty for him (especially since the Indians and Yankees continued to roll. Feh.). Everybody but C-Mo got a hit; Raburn, Polanco and Maggs had three apiece! Maggs’ average is up to .354, heeheehee. I would very much like it if he and Polly (.346) finished 1-2 in the AL batting race. Brandon Inge also was thiiiiiis close to a homer, which instead became an RBI triple. Gotta get his average up a bit, because for some completely inane and invalid reason, one must have a good batting average to win a Gold Glove. (How, exactly, does a defensive award have anything to do with offense????) And Brandon MUST win the third base Gold Glove, given Eric Chavez’s chronic absences from the A’s.

A good night all around, in conclusion, and we better keep it rolling tonight because our rivals show absolutely no sign of letting up. Chad Durbin will hopefully make a triumphant return to the rotation–a win would be a nice Welcome To The World gift for his new son Cade, would it not? 

Are they really and truly back?

Last night would seem to indicate that the Tigers we know and love are once again making themselves heard in Detroit.

It looked like it would be another night to make you want to pluck out your eyeballs. Verlander versus this 2-11 schlub from Tampa–should have been a cakewalk, but it seemed like the Devil Rays would extend our excruciating losing streak. To make it worse, half of Jackson’s wins (one) came against us, in Tampa, when he got pegged in the face by a throw from his own outfielder. Ohhhhh, criminy.

And then came the seventh inning, that beautiful inning when suddenly everything clicked. With one out, Sean Casey blasted one of his rare and lovely homers deep to right field–this the night after getting hit on the elbow by a pitch so bad that he had to leave the game. The homer pulled the Tygs within one, and both they and the crowd came to sudden, roaring life. Base hit after base hit came cracking off Tiger bats–a single from Maggs, a crazy fun triple from Carlos, singles from Raburn and Rabelo. Now that expression of “What the HELL just happened? I thought we were winning” shifted from its new home on Jim Leyland’s face to where it belongs–on Madden’s face. The Devil Rays are a team that are supposed to screw up and blow games. The Tigers are most emphatically NOT.

A new pitcher did not really help matters. Omar hit the third straight single to load the bases with just one out. Then Brandon hit a bloop to left that somehow no one got to–though Omar was forced at second, a sixth run scored. Strangely enough, two of the three seventh inning outs were made by our little sparkplug, Polly. But I think of all people we can forgive Polly for having one off night.

The eighth and ninth innings were also very uplifting. Newly returned Fernando Rodney pitched a scoreless eighth, just like he is supposed to do. I still don’t trust him or particularly like him, but I want to see him do really well because that’s good for the Tigers. And then my boy Jonesy had an easy breezy 1-2-3 ninth for his 29th save!

I’m kind of wary of declaring the Boys back on track after just one win. Yes, it ended our five-game losing streak emphatically. But they could revert back to these 2003-wannabes real fast, especially considering all the injuries. Speaking of which, Rod and Mario passed it along that Kenny’s simulated game or throwing session, whatever he did yesterday, did not go as well as hoped. That is nooooot happy. I worry. I worry probably more than is healthy. Maybe if they win tonight (come on, Little Nate!) I will declare them officially back.

Ex Tigers-Watch: At the thrilling Giants game last night, I saw three former Tigers–Dmitri Young, Rob Fick, and Nook Logan (who various people persisted in calling Nuke, which is incorrect). DY hit the homer that put the Natties ahead, but thankfully the Giants came back to win. DY and Ficker were playing catch with each other and taking ridiculously easy grounders at first together before the game, which I thought was pretty adorable.

Another ex-Tiger, Eric Munson, had the game winning single for the Astros in their extra-inning victory. And remember that marathon 14-inning game the Astros won a couple days ago? Well ex-Tiger Brian Moehler (one of my all-time faves, as sweet and wonderful a guy as Jonesy) got the save.

That was positively wretched (except for Magglio’s ridiculous moonshot). We can’t win on the road, we can’t win at home, and everyone’s getting injured. Plus the Extra Innings package was showing the Chicago feed, for some reason, so we all get to listen to Hawk and Darrin make excuses for the White Sox. Thank the gods Jim Leyland does not believe in excuses, though he has a lot of them.

Let us count the handicaps the Tigers are currently enduring. Zumaya is still out. Rogers is out again. Sheffield is now hurting, and as John Lowe pointed out in a recent Free Press article (I would link to it if I knew how), Sheffield is near Polanco-like in how the team depends on his performance. Casey just got hit by a pitch in this game (of course, according to Chicago’s very objective broadcasters, it was entirely Casey’s fault) and had to come out. The Mayor does not come out for things that are piffling. Rodney is back, but he has never inspired a lot of confidence in me, even when healthy; and even an acceptable outing such as today merely makes me scan the sky harder for that other shoe about to fall on my head. And they’re rushing him back a bit, because Chad Durbin probably won’t be available until Monday since he is with his wife and newborn son Cade (as he should be). Zach Miner is supposedly back, but his father is having heart trouble and so we could lose him again (and again, Zach should leave the team if his father is very ill; it’s just not something happy, either for him or the Tigers). Does that about cover everything?

Oh yeah, and we flippin’ can’t WIN.

Jordan Tata started the game today masterfully, throwing ten of his first eleven pitches for strikes. Now if only BONDERMAN could have had such a first inning yesterday, we would have won. To digress, what IS it with him and the first inning? Can’t he just throw an extra, I don’t know, fifty pitches in the bullpen and pretend like the first is already finished? Jordan did an okay job today. Obviously if he hadn’t given up the back-to-back doubles, etc, it would be better, but for the most part he was solid. I was especially proud of the kid when after walking the bases loaded and having to face Jim Thome with only one out, he got the big slugger to ground into a double play to end the inning with minimal damage. It’s rather difficult to win when your team isn’t scoring any runs for you (as one of my hometown guys Matt Cain can attest), so I’m not blaming Jordan for this at all.

The offense is pretty damn anemic. Well, except for Polanco and Maggs, of course. Two absolutely classic Polly at-bats–he works the count so that he’s got two strikes (he just has to have those two strike, it’s hilarious!) then manages to beat out a base hit. And then Maggs hit that homer to pretty much an impossible place–the only homer I can think of that might’ve gone further was when either Eric Munson or Carlos Pena (I think it was Munson, but I could be wrong) hit one into the camera well.

To make things more frustrating, the White Sox broadcasters seem intent on keeping all blame for anything off their team (even as they commend Jim Leyland for refusing to make excuses). When a bloop fell among three White Sox fielders in right, it wasn’t because they failed to make a rather easy catch. It was because that, ladies and gentlemen, was an insanely difficult play that they just can’t be expected to make all the time. If a Tiger got a hit, it was complete luck, a “duck fart” that could not be blamed on the poor luckless pitcher. And of course there was Casey, who was completely at fault for getting hit by Floyd’s pitch. Shouldn’t even get first base for that.

They did give credit where credit was due to Curtis Granderson. Rabelo dove for a ball in left that juuuust sliced past his glove, and off went the runner. Rabelo picked himself up and went after the ball; just as he got there here came Grandy, flying at full speed, to grab up the ball and fire into second, preventing any thoughts of going for third. Even Hawk and Darrin were vastly impressed with Grandy’s presence of mind and hustle. After the inning ended, you could see Ryan and Crutis talking as they ran in; I hope that Ryan’s end of the conversation contained a LOT of thank yous!

Stuff like that will get the Tigers back on track (hopefully sooner rather than later). They’re not going to start lollygagging or giving up out there. They won’t start stabbing each other in the back (figuratively) in the clubhouse. They’re a team of grinders, and they’ll get through this.

To end on a semi-happy note, I attended the A’s game on Friday (that’s four games in one week, hooray!) and would like to point out some big differences between the Angels and Tigers. Every day the Tigers were in town, at least three of them would make their way to the dugout sometime before the game and just sign until no one had anything left to give them. Even Sheffield did this, I’m pretty sure. If a kid called a Tiger’s name, the guy would likely as not at least smile up in their direction and give a little wave. I saw one Angel sign, and I think he was a coach. The rest of them completely ignored all the fans above the dugout.

When players come in from the field in Oakland, the guy who caught the last out usually tosses the ball up into the stands. Knowing this, Nick always gathers a pack of small children before the game and informs them of this. As soon as the final out is made and the visitors come in, the kids will jump up and run down the aisle, standing just above the dugout. And normally the player will either toss the ball into the pack, or point blatantly at another little kid somewhere else and toss him/her the ball. The Tigers were quite good about this.

The Angels on the other hand threw maybe two balls the whole game. And rather than throwing it to the pack, Chone Figgins casually tossed his ball over to our right. Two adult Angels fans, who had come to the game looking ridiculously formal, leapt in front of two little boys, maybe six years old, to snag the ball. Did Chone come back to say give it to a kid you schmuck? Did any other Angels try to get a ball to the kids later? No. And you KNOW that never would happen with the Tygs. The moral of the comparison is Appreciate the Tigers. They’re nice to an insane level, and most teams don’t even begin to match them. 

Yes, we lost. But I am still completely on Cloud Nine.

Who is responsible for this, you ask?

The usual culprit: Todd Jones. Along with his sweet henchmen, Jason Grilli, Curtis Granderson and the rest of the bullpen.

The day did not begin auspiciously–we were late getting on the road, Mom was in a bad mood because of baseball in general, and I was figuring that we wouldn’t see anyone at all on the field, since there would probably be no batting practice. Boy was I wrong!

I made an immediate beeline for the bullpen as soon as I got in the stadium; Joel Zumaya was throwing and literally, the ball was sizzling through the air. Not two minutes after I staked out my spot, here came Todd Jones! Shockingly I was less of a blithering idiot than usual. My buddy Mark, one of my favorite security guards, was hanging out with me so both of us chatted with Jonesy, rehashing last year’s trip onto the field and talking about the World Series. Jonesy couldn’t believe it when I told him I’m going to be a senior.

“Did you know she was gonna be a senior?” he asked Mark.

“I couldn’t believe it either,” Mark said, grinning–he’s known me since I was about fifteen.

“My mom’s here today,” I told Jonesy, waving at my parents to come over. “This is a momentous occasion. She hates baseball.”

Jonesy of course proceeded to turn all his considerable charm on my mom, trying to explain how great baseball is and how much fun it was going to be to watch the Tygs play on such a gorgeous day. “Give baseball a chance, all right?” he said with a smile as he went off to play catch in right field.

A little while later, I spotted Jason Grilli along the right field line. I’d liked him before Jonesy introduced me to him last year–he was, after all, the MVP of the 2005 IL champion Toledo Mud Hens–and after I met him I liked him even more. I yelled his name, just hoping for a wave, which I got. But instead of heading back to the dugout, where he’d been going, Jason looped around Jordan Tata, who was now doing his side session, and came straight over to me!

“I remember you from last year!” he said. We talked about Michigan a bit and then he too met my mom. It was adorable watching these ballplayers trying to convince her that baseball is good. Jason just hung around for what seemed like forever, completely content to sign autographs for all the little kids and chat with us. We told him we’d be out in Detroit for a game against the Yankees, so maybe we’ll get to see him then too! How cool would that be?

Vance Wilson was again at the game in civvies with wife and kiddies in tow. All his teammates kept coming over to hug him and take ridiculously adorable pictures with his tiny children. When another Tigers fan and I approached Vance, he greeted us like long-lost buddies he was expecting to run into, and gleefully told us how he came to be there (his family was planning to travel out before he got hurt, so even when his season was over, he figured why not?) and that rehab was going well and he’ll get cleared for lifting and throwing around November, which he believes will be here before we know it. Total sweetie pie, although why that should surprise me anymore I don’t know.

Mark told me to stick with him, and set me up with a seat in the row directly behind the bullpen. For anyone who’s never been to the Coliseum, the bullpens are pretty minor league. There’s an aluminum bench, a water cooler, and a warped dark green wooden roof. The fans are sitting right behind the players, and when they stand up they can’t really help but make eye contact. Hardly anything separates the fans and players, which is pretty cool most of the time. For a little while, I could see in; when Jose Capellan came in and sat down, he saw me sitting right there in all my Tigers stuff and smiled at me. He has a very lovely smile.

And except for that damn Ellis homer, the game only got better. Jonesy and Jason both waved when they came down to the bullpen. After my parents had joined me, and right after the Ellis homer, Jonesy popped up over the roof and looked straight at my mom.

“Are you having fun yet?” he asked playfully.

“I was,” she said. “Until that.” She waved her hand in the direction of the homer.

“Need anything?” Jonesy asked. “Bubble gum? Water?” Mom allowed that she was a bit thirsty, so like it was totally normal Jonesy went over to the water cooler and filled her up a cup. I practically died!!! “Go over with her,” Jonesy said, pointing at me. Mom was sitting with our cousin Amy, an A’s fan. “She’ll show you all the little stuff. That”–he meant the homer–”was a big thing. But you gotta watch the pitcher throwing over to first, the catcher giving signs … watch the umpires, they’re always fun.”

A little later, Chad Durbin came out. He winked at someone behind us, and all of a sudden this tiny little kid came toddling down the stairs toward the bullpen. Chad grinned and placed a ball in his two hands, which still were barely big enough to hold it. Cutest thing ever.

Around the sixth Jonesy talked to me and Dad by the water cooler. “You get royalties from all the jerseys she buys?” asked my dad jokingly. Jonesy smiled and shook his head.

“Am I your favorite now?” He knew all about Mikey from last year. I nodded gleefully and Jonesy went, “Yessssss!” and pumped his fist. “Used to be Damion Easley a while ago, right?” Not exactly, I explained, but I was flabbergasted that he remembered the game about two years ago when he, in typical Jonesy style, delivered my sketch of Easley to the man himself for an autograph, who was at that moment taking grounders at short before the game. Dad said something about Jonesy being my favorite current Tiger, which I thought might make things awkward, since of course Jonesy then asked who my favorite all-time player ever was. The fact that I said Steve Sparks only seemed to please Jonesy more, and he agreed heartily with us that Sparky is one classy guy.

Grandy kept coming over to the bullpen, preparing to go in the game, and he would chat with us a bit too. They were so nice and personable it was like being in a dream or something.

The very best moment came in the eighth, when suddenly Jonesy popped up yet again and handed me a baseball before disappearing like the periscope of a submarine.

“To Colt,” it said. “You might be the biggest Tigers fan I know. Good luck in college and in life!” He’d signed it on the sweet spot. On the other side of the sweet spot, the writing continued. “P. S. Thanks for letting me be your favorite Tiger! Although Steve Sparks ain’t too bad either!”

Thus, despite the painful 3-2 loss (WHY couldn’t Maggs have gotten a HIT with the bases loaded?! WHY?!), I had a most marvelous day with my Tigers. Nicest ballclub on the face of the earth, and don’t let anyone tell you different.

Not quite as gleeful as yesterday.

Today we lost Danny and Jeannette to Santa Barbara, so they were replaced by Yazan’s little brother Gabby as well as my buddy Hugo, who has attended at least one Tiger Pride game every year since the tradition began, something no one else outside of my family can claim. Other than that, the crew from yesterday were back and ready to go.

Tigers fans in general did not turn out in the same huge unbelievable numbers as yesterday, possibly because many A’s fans were enticed by the free A’s poker set giveaway. No Jonesy sightings during BP, but I did see John Lowe and Vance Wilson. John Lowe, in case you didn’t know, is the Tigers beat writer for the Detroit Free Press. He is also a huge mentor for kids at the Michigan Daily–he read practically every men’s gymnastics story I wrote last year. He’s the kind of guy who can make you feel like you’re the best writer in the world. He was pretty busy today what with the trade deadline stuff (even though the Tygs didn’t do anything) but he still chatted a bit–well, more like yelling back and forth since I was above the dugout. Vance Wilson I found when I mistook Little Nate for Jonesy (his back was to me, they’ve both recently gotten haircuts, and Nate was hugging someone in the stands–typical Jonesy behavior). So I scampered over and discovered the someone was Vance Wilson! Very exciting. He was there with his little boy, and it sounded like he was heading to Detroit to catch some games there. Well, not literally catch, of course. It was pretty weird seeing him in civvies on my side of the fence, I’ve gotta say.

Tonight was quite migratory–bleachers to bullpen and finally back to Nick, where we belong. The game began with Jack Cust showing exactly why the A’s use him mostly as a DH, flubbing a ball in left and allowing Curtis to get all the way to third on the error. The Tygs took a 3-0 lead on some nice timely hitting, and then it all went to shit. A sloppy game all around. Errors all over the place. What was Carlos THINKING, triple clutching like that?! That keyed the whole ugly A’s rally.

Our migrations tonight unfortunately did not take us near a lot of other Tigers fans, and thus I had to listen and stew furiously as the A’s fans chanted exceedingly witty things such as, “Detroit sucks!” (And Oakland is such a shining example of a thriving city?) or “Hey Jones, at least you won’t have the chance to blow the save tonight!” Made me remember why I spent the first fifteen years of my life hating the A’s with a fiery vengeance (now I root for them when they aren’t playing the Tygs).

I couldn’t believe how long Leyland left McBride in. Actually I was trying to send ESP signals not to put him in at all. But I guess my boy Jason Grilli (still got a soft spot for him) didn’t do too much better. It just seemed like no one could throw strikes tonight, not consistently anyways. So much for the grand pitchers duel. Tonight was more of a slop fest.

Thankfully, the Indians lost so they didn’t gain on us. Tomorrow it’ll be Dallas Braden against Little Nate. If Nate’s on his game, as we all know, no one can beat him. However Braden has been doing quite well of late–the last game I saw him pitch, he was pretty brilliant and just lost because the A’s didn’t score for him. Kid can’t curve a cap brim to save his life … but that is a rant for another day. Gotta take the series tomorrow, not just cause it’s bloody CRUCIAL, but the Mom is coming. And if the Tigers don’t win, I’m not gonna hear the end of it.

What a way to put that hideous weekend behind us, eh? A beautiful win in my favorite ballpark with all my favorite Tygs!

 A brief history of Tiger Pride: When I was sixteen, I came up with the crazy idea of getting all my friends to go to Oakland for a Tigers game wearing matching Tiger Pride t-shirts of my design. To my extreme shock, my parents thought this was a good idea. Thus, in 2002, about twenty of us showed up at the Coliseum in Tigers gear. The security guards (who are all now my buddies) still talk about it. Tiger Pride was very teeny in 2003, as you might expect, but we did witness Jeremy Bonderman’s first major league win. In 2004, Tiger Pride got a huge boost as I convinced twenty-five seniors to skip out on a Thursday of class for a day game in Oakland. It’s now a big tradition with us, and at least some of my friends make sure that their summer plans don’t conflict with Tiger Pride.

Tonight’s game featured some Tiger Pride veterans–my dad, me, and two of my best friends, Danny and Will. We also got some newbies in Danny and Will’s roommate Jeannette, Danny’s sister Serra, and Serra’s best friend Yazan (who kept acting like he might root for the A’s). As always, I decorated my car in Tigers stuff–the back window is full of stuffed tigers, a Tigers license plate is propped against a speaker, the license plate frames are Tigers-themed, and the actual plates read TGSONTP. I do not half ass Tiger Pride Day.

Upon arriving at the Coliseum, we were delighted to discover a horde of Tigers fans already waiting patiently at Gate C. We outnumbered the A’s fans easily, and to our surprise it stayed that way all night. Supposedly 18,000 or so fans were in attendance; at least 10,000 had to have been Tigers fans. It was pretty sweet to see that almost every regular was represented on someone’s t-shirt–people had Ordonez, Monroe, Polanco, Verlander, Sheffield, Inge, Guillen, Pudge, Jones (that would be me, haha), Zumaya … you name a Tiger, and someone was probably wearing his jersey.

Thanks to my longtime friendship with Nick, the usher right behind the visitors dugout, all of us Tiger Priders were able to stay in his section about five or six rows up (with a bit of migration here and there). All the security guards were glad to see us–they all look forward to Tiger Pride Day even though most of them are A’s fans (Nick, on the other hand, confessed that he was secretly rooting for the Tigers last year in the ALCS).

Every year it’s the same. I can’t quite believe those are actually my Tigers out there on the field, and I feel like I’m living in a fantasy. Every year, it’s like mythical heroes come to earth. Nothing seems quite real, and it’s blissful. Especially when the Tygs win!

Though I was sad to see Kenny go back on the DL, I was pretty excited to see Jordan Tata pitch. I liked him last year but had never seen him pitch in person. And he didn’t disappoint at all (though I admit I lost faith a bit when he gave up the two runs). Seven innings, two runs. I’ll take it! He got some extra special stellar defense from Brandon Inge. All of us went berserk when he made that crazy hopping catch over by the tarp. Those plays and Tiger runs were good for figuring out where our brethren were. All you had to do was stand up, and check out who else was up and screaming their heads off. I have never seen Tigers fans so numerous in Oakland. Normally it’s just us Tiger Priders and about three other lonely Tigers fans. But not this year, oh man.

Grandy and Polanco had themselves a night. Grandy was three for five with three runs scored and an RBI. Serra is hoping for a proposal tomorrow, haha. It was fantastic to be so close and get to watch him run–he’s just poetry in motion, if you’ll excuse the cliche. Placido, as usual, was a little hitting machine. His double in the seventh after a drawn-out battle with Kiko Calero was especially lovely. The most satisfying hit, however, was probably Pudge’s double in the eighth, even though nothing came of it. A guy across the aisle from us had been yelling about how Pudge sucked etc. for a while (because Kurt Suzuki is a surefire shot for the Hall of Fame. Psh.) Then Pudge blasted that shot to center and we yelled back, “Who sucks NOW?!” Heh heh. Yazan really got into it with a bunch of girls–he kinda doesn’t know when to shut up, and loves to heckle and be heckled. It helped that if they ever got on his case, he could respond,”I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the SCOREBOARD.”

Chad Durbin was pretty lights-out in the eighth, striking out the Pizza Man and Mark Ellis before getting the A’s Mr. Clutch, Marco Scutaro, to pop out to Casey. Yes, it was an extremely awkward looking put-out. But an out nonetheless.

As you would expect, I went completely crazy when Jonesy came in for the ninth. I hadn’t been able to get his attention before the game, but in the fourth inning when he moseyed back to the dugout from the bullpen, he saw me and Dad waving and waved back at us enthusiastically. (That put me into a bit of a tizzy for a few innings!) I got all the kids going for Jonesy too. Of course he had to give up the single for a bit of spice, but then he got the nice double play and the flyout.

All the Tigers fans on the first base side immediately swarmed the dugout, but very gently. There was no jostling of small children or anything of the sort, just a huge crowd of absolutely delighted people waiting to shower their heroes with appreciation. As the Tygs came in from the high five line, the crowd would greet each of them by name. The guys would wave or tip their caps, almost shyly, acknowledging the crowd. Jonesy saw all of Tiger Pride standing at the top of the dugout and waved to us.

Jordan Tata was the interview of choice for FSN, which fit in quite well with the diabolical plans of Todd Jones and Kenny Rogers. As Tata began talking, Kenny and Jonesy got together at the other end of the dugout. Todd held out a towel in two hands, and Kenny carefully filled it with shaving cream. The fans all began giggling and laughing; Jonesy grinned wickedly and shushed us. It was pretty funny how everyone got quiet all at once. Tata had to know it was coming. One of the FSN guys directed Jonesy, creeping up behind Tata–finally Jonesy pounced and mushed the shaving cream all over Jordan while simultaneously bear hugging him. I was thankful he wasn’t wearing that awful sleeveless thing from when Verlander got the no-hitter. Everyone laughed uproariously as Jonesy scampered away and Kenny, chuckling, helped Jordan get cleaned off.

So, a 5-2 win, a gain of half a game on Cleveland, and to me it feels like the world has settled back on its axis. I’m definitely stoked for tomorrow’s matchup of Justin Verlander and Danny Haren. And tonight, three brand-new Tigers fans were created. Hooray! Happy Tiger Pride, everyone!!! 

The Tygs blew another one to the White Sox, and this one brought back memories I’ve been trying to repress about the World Series. Of all pitching staffs, ours should now be the very best at throwing to various bases. I mean, didn’t they see what screwing that up did last season? Apparently Zach Miner didn’t get the memo. Thanks to the bullpen, even though we finally got a quality start out of a starter, we still didn’t get a win. Argh.

At least we did get the quality start–that’s encouraging. And Omar Infante hit his second homer of the season, hurrah. Can’t say I’m sorry the boys are leaving Chicago. I sincerely hope that Anaheim treats us a bit better. It would be tremendously sweet if Little Nate beat the crap out of Jeff Weaver’s little brother Jered tonight, eh?

I’ll be away for the weekend–finally, I get to go up to Tahoe with my buddies! Should be a lot of fun. Danny (our ringleader) has promised we’ll be able to check on the Tygs every night but there’s no Internet up there. Surely I will make up for this absence by writing mini-novels about Tiger Pride in Oakland!!! Coming up Monday, the best three days of the baseball season! (Well, unless we get to the postseason, of course.)

They tried their best but couldn’t pull out a win in Game 2 of the doubleheader. But last night, the bats of the young Tigers weren’t taking no for an answer. And Ryan Raburn led the charge. No one can argue anymore (not that anyone was) that Neifi Perez is more valuable than Raburn. In an excruciating 13-9 contest, Raburn was key to the Tigers’ victory, going 4 for 5 with two homers and seven, count ‘em, SEVEN, RBI. And he wasn’t even supposed to play! I don’t think even Sheff could have pulled off a night better than that, do you?

The pitching was pretty unwatchable on both sides of this game, hence the ugly final score. Well, not as ugly as it could’ve been–at least we won! Raburn’s fellow “cub,” Rabelo, was 3 for 4, and I’m willing to bet Mike Hessman would have had a couple hits had he played. The bullpen makes me ever more nervous with each appearance, but I can’t do anything but smile when I see the guys coming up from Toledo. Say what you want about championships at the minor league level being meaningless. I think that’s totally missing the point. These guys–Rabelo, Raburn, and Hessman–all know what it feels like to WIN. They know how a winning team plays, how a winning team acts. They’d still be good ballplayers if Toledo hadn’t won the past two IL championships, but not THIS good.

Everyone was hitting the ball last night–Brandon Inge, probably overflowing with pent-up energy from sitting through most of the nightcap on Tuesday was three for four. (Rod Allen remarked before game two, as the camera focused on Brandon chattering away like a squirrel in the dugout, that he was going to annoy a buttload of people before the night was done. I think Brandon hates sitting even more than Pudge does. But it must be noted that in his stead, Mike Hessman acquitted himself nicely at third.) Grandy, Casey, Guillen and C-Mo all had two hits apiece. We just gotta get the pitchers going!

The pitching woes are spreading, it seems, to the starting staff, which is quite worrisome. We’ve gone an entire rotation without a quality start. Hopefully this will change today with Verlander, who considers himself our stopper. Basically I can’t wait for them to get the hell out of Chicago. It might be my own paranoia, but it feels like we don’t play consistently well at New Comiskey or whatever they’re calling it this week. Then again, Anaheim isn’t the most fun place either. Either way, each day brings the Tigers closer to Oakland and my beloved Coliseum. Tiger Pride has gathered (well, mostly; there are a fair number of people who just didn’t come home this summer) and is primed for a great series. If you’re a Bay Area Tigers fan, come out and join us! We’ll have a marvelous time, and according to the ushers there’s not supposed to be a real big crowd for either of the first two games, so maybe we can overpower the A’s fans!

We’ve been having some Internet issues over here–it gets moody every couple weeks–hence the absence. The Tygs are now back on the road and the winning has resumed. Funny how that works, isn’t it?

The Tygs won 9-6 against the evil White Sox at New Comiskey, pecking the Sox to death with a succession of what the Chicago announcers frustratedly termed, “Duck farts.” It was most gratifying to hear the mounting annoyance in their voices–I don’t think there is a team of announcers I dislike more than the ones for the White Sox. I’m okay with homers, I mean, no one can say that Mario and Rod are totally unbiased, or my hometown A’s or Giants broadcast teams. But I’ve never heard anyone root so blatantly on the air as the White Sox guys. I very much enjoy seeing them unhappy, which I suppose is pretty bad for my karma.

Grandy had another great night, falling just a triple short of the cycle. And who knows, if that double hadn’t gone in the stands, maybe he’d have been a double short instead. He blasted the first pitch of the game into the stands for a leadoff homer, how crazy wondrous is that? Grandy, basically, can do no wrong, as far as I’m concerned.

Andrew Miller didn’t have the best night, but he kept us in it, which is in the end what you want your pitcher to do. And he did strike out seven. Our bullpen was pretty solid, and my boy Jonesy showed the delightful Strike Machine side of his personality in the ninth. One, two, three, you’re done.

While the White Sox announcers picked Fields as the player of the game (wow, what a shocker), I think the night truly belonged to Mike Hessman. A career minor leaguer, he just got brought up to play first when Casey needs a night off while Marcus is hurt. (Timo Perez was sent back down.) Hessman’s basically been tearing it up, not necessarily with his average but with power. With Toledo, he’s got something like 27 homers and 86 RBI. That’s a year. A good one. And we’re only in July. He richly deserved his call-up, and it was exceedingly gratifying to watch him go 2 for 4 with the game-tying and eventual game-winning RBI. His was the most wonderful duck fart of all–a seventh inning gork to right with the bases loaded and two out.

Today (actually right now) the Tigers will engage the ChiSox in a doubleheader, with Bondo pitching game one and Virgil Vasquez pitching game two. Kinda thinking we need to win game one. The Tygs so far took a 1-0 lead in the first but then Bondo had a typically unhappy bottom half of the first. Luckily only two runs scored; it could have been worse, eh? And now we’re out of it, so it’s time for Bondo to shut ‘em out the rest of the way.

Negro League Tribute Day is my favorite day of the year, with the possible exception of Opening Day. Though I always hate to see Jonesy blow a save (probably even more than most people), I can’t say I was sad to get a little extra time watching the Boys play in those sharp throwbacks–or to see Brandon blast a walk-off homer! As a baseball history buff, I love to see teams recognizing the contributions of the Negro Leaguers, and the Tigers do it better than anyone else. We’ve got a whole weekend of tributes (yesterday they dedicated a plaque to Hall of Famer Turkey Stearnes, a Detroit Star) where most teams have just one day. NLTD also appeals to my obsession with uniforms (the link to Uni Watch on the left is NOT a coincidence). I cannot get enough of old-style uniforms and especially high, exposed socks. We’re talking Curtis Granderson socks–which he wears high 100% of the time as a tribute to the players of the Negro League. (Digressing a bit, how undeniably cool is Curtis Granderson? He is an amazing player, he wears the uniform right, he plays the game right, he is one of the most well-spoken ballplayers I’ve ever heard, and he knows and respects the history of the game. What more can you ask for, really?)

Some of the Tigers half-assed the socks, like Infante and Polanco (one of the very few complaints I’ll ever have with Polly). Honestly, when you are wearing a throwback uniform, just pull the socks up and show them with pride. Otherwise you look like 1) a dork and 2) like you’re wearing pajamas. Higgy and Carlos Pena used to wear their throwback pants all the way down at their ankles, which drove me totally nuts. Even Sheff, who normally has those ridiculous straps that run under his spikes and keep his pant legs pulled down as long as possible, did the socks beautifully. The worst socks, I am deeply ashamed to note, belonged to my own Tiger, Todd Jones. He seemed to have removed the elastic from the bottoms of the pants, which made them look even worse. It looked like he was wearing pinstriped slacks, almost, pinstriped pants belonging to a man several inches shorter than Todd. I blame the blown save completely on the pants. See what partially exposed socks did for Polanco? Fourth homer of the year. Fully exposed socks for Brandon? Walk-off two-run homer! Bad socks for Jonesy? Fifth blown save. Moral: BALLPLAYERS, EXPOSE THY SOCKS.

Justin Verlander, like last year, started the Negro League Tribute game, looking so sharp in that old Stars uni. (The Royals, on the other hand, picked just about the most boring Monarchs throwback they could find. Then they looked extra silly with the mismatched bright blue Royals helmets.) The early Royals were kinda cheap, and the Tigers answered promptly. Like last night, the Royals scored a run in the first; Ryan Raburn immediately tied it with a leadoff homer. Attababe, Ryan! (Goodbye, Neifi! We won’t miss you!)

Jim Leyland slotted Craig Monroe into the fifth spot, and it really seemed to work. In his first at bat, he got an RBI double. In his second, he blasted a three-run two-out homer. Mr. Clutch seems to be back, and it makes me gleeful. But it was not the sharpest night for Tigers pitching; the Royals just never let up, constantly chipping away when it seemed like they should be throwing in the towel. Guess it paid off for them, eh? Jonesy needs to stop blowing saves. It makes defending him more difficult. Watching the last few innings was way worse on the psyche than watching the Twins series–one, because you know we should be beating the crap out of the Royals, two, because against the Twins there was this weird feeling of invincibility (at least in my world), and three, said invincible feeling was not present in this game against the Royals. Maybe it’s a leftover thing from last year, but the Royals in general make me weirdly nervous.

The game, despite the nailbiting quality of the latter part of it, was full of fun moments, which I shall now list.

Amusing Observations:

 –Sheffield took a buttload of ribbing in the first after Ryan Raburn led off the game with a homer, and Sheff’s blast went only to the warning track. Whassamatter Sheff? you could practically hear them saying. Just got warning track power now, huh? Letting the rook do all the work.

–In the fifth, just before he was lifted from the game, KC’s De La Rosa thought he was about to face Craig Monroe with two on. He looked in at the plate, then whacked himself several times on the side of the head, as if reminding himself, NO MORE GOPHER BALLS to Mr. Clutch!

–When Pudge came up with two out in the fifth and two on, a man in the front row put a Pudge bobblehead on the low wall in front of him, gently holding it upright and fixing his gaze on the batter. Pudge, who had been in an 0 for 16 slump, immediately got a base hit to drive in Sheffield. The camera cut back to the bobblehead, which was now getting patted affectionately by the surrounding fans. Pudge should give him half the RBI. However, the guy’s Todd Jones bobblehead was not nearly so effective, as Jonesy blew his fifth save (and made me feel like tearing my hair out or committing some other pointless act inspired by extreme frustration). Perhaps we should give him half the blown save too. The Pudge bobblehead made yet another appearance in the tenth, much to the amusement of Rod and Mario.

–Brandon Inge, on his way home during his home run trot, only pretended to throw away his helmet. Wisely he left it on, protecting his noggin from the enthusiastic pounding it subsequently took at the hands of his overjoyed teammates. Way to pick up Jonesy and the rest of the boys, Brandon. And since I’m posting ridiculously early on this game, and the Cleveland-Texas game has not yet finished, GO RANGERS!!!!

Was that the not the most insanely awesome series ever? I think it might give me ulcers, but the sheer awesomeness is mind-boggling. We swept the Twins–the TWINS!–in the METRODOME!!! That doesn’t happen!!! We beat Johan Santana–THE Johan!!! That doesn’t happen either!! Mike Rabelo tripled!!!

Okay enough with the exclamation points. You get the picture. Yesterday’s game was just as crazy and gut-churning as the other two–and had just as delightful an outcome.

The Twinkies took the lead first after we’d gotten through five scoreless. Bondo gave up three straight singles to let in Minnesota’s first run. Then, all the breaks seemed to fall the Tigers’ way. In the seventh, backup catcher Mike Rabelo led off with a triple (!!!). Sorry, that’s exclamation point worthy until the end of time. Brandon promptly drove him in with a single. After Grandy grounded into a force out, Polly and Sheff hit back to back RBI doubles. Sheff’s was one of the biggest breaks. Just as the third baseman was about to scoop up the ball and get the out, it kicked up off the bag and into left field. Ha!

Lady Luck was rather fickle yesterday, though. Immediately, she switched to the Twins’ side. Jason Kubel led off their half of the seventh with a homer over the baggie. Grandy tried to track the thing, but he had no clue where the ball was at all. Not that it mattered, but it was not fun seeing our future Gold Glover staring up at that baseball colored roof, completely mystified and raising his hands in despair. Seriously, whose idea was if for the roof of the Metrodome to be basically the same color as a baseball? I can’t wait until the Twins get their new park.

After Bondo got one out, trouble recommenced. He gave up singles to Punto and Tyner, and Castillo drove in Punto with a force out to tie the game. Eventually Bobby Seay had to be called in to get the Tygs out of the inning.

One of the key plays of the game came in the bottom of the eighth. Seay gave up a leadoff double to Morneau, who moved to third on a Redmond flyout. Then with Kubel up, Seay fired one to the backstop. Morneau broke for home, but the carom was perfect, right back to Rabelo. Morneau slammed on the brakes, caught in a rundown. Rabelo threw to third to start it, but Morneau stuck his shoulder in the way of the ball, sending it towards the pitcher’s mound. He once again tried for home; the ball got there about the same time as him, but the ump didn’t make a call. That was when everybody realized that he’d already been called out for interference! What a relief!! Gardy and Morneau didn’t even argue at all; they knew exactly what he’d done, and kinda went, “Well, woulda been nice, but we got caught. Shucks.” Thank the gods the umpires at this game weren’t blind as they sometimes seem to be.

The game went to extras, and Mr. Moonshot’s replacement, Timo Perez, got the game winning rally started in the tenth with a walk. Rabelo quickly bunted him over, and then Brandon Inge got his second crucial RBI of the day with a booming double. My boy Jonesy came in to finish off the Twins, getting his third save in three days. My diabolical (well, actually it’s not really diabolical at all, but I just like to say that) plan is for Jonesy to get a save almost every day from here on out, so that when the Tigers get to Oakland the Monday after next, he will be on the verge of getting Save No. 300. I want to be there for that SO BAD.

But I digress. This was an absolutely crucial series, and the Tigers stepped up magnificently. We have to keep the Twins down, out of the race, and there’s not much more the Tygs could have done to that end. We gained ground on Cleveland (2 games we’re up now! hurrah!) and the Twins are now a very comfy (for now) nine games out. I’ll never be anything close to relaxed until we actually have a postseason spot clinched, but a series like this should do worlds for everybody’s confidence, eh? These are the games people said we couldn’t win anymore, tight games where you have to depend not only on timely offense but on your bullpen. Our bullpen’s finally looking okay, even though I still don’t totally trust them. Now we have to keep up the intensity at home against KC. The Royals are on a little hot streak, plus for some reason we just don’t play as well at home. Saturday is Negro League Tribute Day–actually the whole weekend will be a celebration of the Negro Leagues. But Saturday will see both teams dress in throwback Stars and Monarchs jerseys for the game–this is one of my absolute favorite days of the year! Can’t wait to see the concentrated beauty of two teams in Negro League uniforms!

Another brilliant one-run victory! Somehow this one felt just a bit hairier than the previous one though.

I should have had more faith in young Andrew, I suppose–because people with food poisoning don’t pitch eight innings like Santana did. Pretty much thought I was going to die when Miller drove in the first Twins runs (and after that booming Maggs 2-run double too!) by plunking Justin Morneau, but then the Phee-nom part of his personality took over. Say goodnight, Jason Kubel. Ahhhhhh.

The bullpen wasn’t perfect, but they were just as good as they needed to be. Maggs added a crucial solo home run to give us a 3-1 lead, promptly made 3-2 when Jason Grilli couldn’t get out of a jam completely unscathed.

The last few innings were gut-wrenching. The Tigers pretty much did nothing on offense, while the pitchers got into heart-pounding jams. If I wasn’t trying to quit the habit, I would have chewed my nails down to nothing by the eighth. Bobby Seay created a disaster waiting to happen, then handed the mess over to ever-reliable Chad Durbin. Chad, after plunking his first batter to load the bases (what’s with all the plunking? come on now), got Jeff Cirillo to pop out to Pudge. Pudge, elated by the second out of the inning, ran out to Durbin and gave him a fervent and possibly painful whack on the ass. I know all ballplayers indulge in the butt-smacking to one degree or another, but jeeeeeez, Pudge! You’re going to put someone on the disabled list with bruised buttocks!

Speaking of the disabled list, we should all have a moment of silence for the DL’s latest victim, Mr. Moonshot himself. Marcus Thames, manning left field, made an absolutely magnificent somersaulting catch to end the eighth inning. He just barely got the ball in his glove (the broadcasters declared it a most risky try, but Marcus pulled it off, didn’t he?) and then kind of rolled to a stop. Tigers fans’ cheers died in their throats when he came up grimacing horribly and clutching his left hamstring. Now Timo Perez has been called up. Excuse me while I go throw up in a corner.

I will admit my boy Jonesy made the ninth a little interesting, but it was more like a refreshing dash of a spice than a whole buttload of jalapenos or something that sets your mouth on fire. Why I’m comparing his pitching to food when the most I cook is EasyMac, I’m not completely sure. In other tidbits, Raburn had a hit, bringing his average to .429. I am rooting extra hard for Raburn, not just cause he’s a cool guy I’ve been following off and on for a while, but because if he does really well, we can get rid of Neifi!!!!! And how wonderful would that be? I think they’ll probably be getting rid of Neifi anyway–why would you want to keep a guy so stupid on your roster? He got caught for the amphetamines once, they didn’t tell anyone and told him, “Now, sonny, don’t do that again,” and what did he do? He DID it! STUPID! Raburn is undoubtedly more intelligent, he plays more positions, and hopefully he will hit for a better average. Can’t be that hard, considering Neifi sucks at practically everything including hitting. There is no Raburn Index which determines just how much of a drag a guy is to his team, now is there?

Here’s hoping Mr. Moonshot returns soon, that Neifi never does, and that Bondo keeps kicking ass!

Seems like I’ve seen this game somewhere before … let me think, I believe it was the last game the Twins played in our house. Not that I’m complaining! Again, this is the best kind of pitchers’ duel–the 1-0 kind where you win.

Little Nate is officially back. He was unquestionably brilliant last night, allowing only three hits count ‘em three over seven innings. I love Nate’s emotion on the mound too. The best part was the bottom of the sixth, when he really needed to keep the Twins off the board. With one out, Castillo singled and Bartlett walked to bring up Joe Mauer. My stomach was in knots! But Nate struck out Mauer swinging, then got Cuddyer to stand there like the house by the side of the road and watch strike three go by! Nate was yelling in triumph as he came off the mound, and he deserved to.

We had to scratch out our lone run. Poor Garza basically had the same brilliant night as Nate except nobody made an error behind Nate. But Brandon Inge led off the sixth by reaching on an error and got to second on a wild pitch. Grandy, AL Player of the Week and on his way to a 3-for-3 night (DAMN I love Grandy!), drew a walk. Polly then popped up a bunt and I pretty much thought the threat was over. I mean, how often does that happen? Placido Polanco just does not pop up bunts! And then Sheff flied out. But such is the beauty of the Tigers lineup–someone dangerous is always coming up. This time the someone dangerous was Maggs, who promptly lined an RBI single to left for all the scoring of the night.

 I would like to point out that my boy Jonesy had a rather uneventful and lovely ninth for his 24th save in 28 chances. Attababe Jonesy!

 My dad also passed on a most amusing quote from Rod Allen, who was talking about the Indians in the Freep. Rod said basically only two of the Indians’ regular starters would be able to crack the Tigers’ lineup–Pronk and Sizemore. I laughed most heartily, then began to wonder (as I often do) WHY THE HELL THE INDIANS ARE ONLY ONE GAME BEHIND US IF WE’RE SO MUCH BETTER. Yes, we have injuries. But still. For the love of Pete, Indians, just give up already. Yeah, I’m really not one for the down-to-the-wire pennant races. Not if they involve my Tigers. I’m good enough at giving myself ulcers as it is. In a perfect world, the Tigers would now pull away from everyone else in the central and coast on a double-digit lead to the playoffs–where they would slice through the Red Sox and whoever else, then trounce the Phillies in the World Series. (Yes, I also operate under the delusion that Philly will make the Series. No one ever said I was rational.)

Tonight Andrew Miller faces off against Johan Santana, nigh unbeatable in the Dome. (Random digression: How good will Santana be at home when the Twinkies move to their inevitably vastly superior new ballpark? Discuss) This game tonight is why I’m so frickin’ glad we won last night. Maybe Santana will get food poisoning or something.

Good thing we got 11 runs, eh? Verlander was really good, as usual, and then Miner gave up three runs in the ninth. Thanks to the 11 runs, we were far enough away that it didn’t matter. Oh, the bullpen. Even in an 11-7 win, they find a way to make me shudder.

But back to the good bits! The Tygs scored runs in many different and lovely ways. They scored on a lovely moonshot by Marcus Thames. They scored on wild pitches. They manufactured runs through timely hitting, stolen bases, and a bit more timely hitting. And Sheffield flippin’ STOLE HOME. As a purist, that’s my kind of baseball. Homers are nice, but small ball is electrifying. I don’t know if stealing home can properly be classified as “small-ball,” but it sure is something Ty Cobb would have liked. And for all his faults, his baseball tastes were impeccable.

Our boy Justin had himself a nice day, pitching seven solid innings while giving up four runs and striking out eight. The Boys, after initially falling behind, bounced back with a four run fourth, three of those runs coming on a home run by Mr. Moonshot. Thankfully they didn’t stop there–that would have been kiiiiinda bad. We scored six more runs over the sixth, seventh and eighth to make sure we put the Mariners down and kept them there.

Sure, we probably should have won three of four games. If we had, we would have a one game lead over Cleveland instead of a half game (though neither of those, admittedly, is very comfy). Brandon Inge sure deserved a win with that insane leap into the stands last night. How much would you have loved to be one of those fans sitting on the aisle, by the way? Seriously, what a thrill. You get to see Brandon come leaping at you like some crazy mix of Eric Byrnes and Derek Jeter, and then you could reach down to pat him on the back, tell him how amazing he is and then ask if he’s okay. Mmmmm.

Now the Tygs head off to Minnesota and the Metrodome, possibly the most awful place to play or watch baseball ever. The Twins are coming off a four-game sweep of the suddenly toothless A’s, who according to the laws of nature should be starting their second-half surge right now. Guess someone forgot to tell them. We gotta beat the Twinkies–remember last year. The last thing we need is to have to fight off two teams breathing down our necks.