Tigers On Top

Mike Maroth traded. 

Three words in the English language that probably hurt me more than anything else in the recent past.

And for what? We don’t even know yet. For a player to be named later. Nice thanks for the man who endured the ignominy of 2003 without excuse or complaint, who was such a huge part of the Tigers resurgence, who gracefully accepted getting left off the playoff roster when the Tigers finally made it to the postseason. Of all the 2003 Tigers who made it out of the doldrums, he’s probably dealt with the most shit and received the fewest rewards. Not that you’d ever hear him complaining. Mikey always has a smile on his face. He’s always thinking about other people, one of the most active Tigers when it comes to charity work.

And now he gets dumped from a first place team to a fluke. Did he ever dump on the Tigers when they sucked? Did he ever ask to be traded when everything was going so badly there aren’t even words for it? Was he ever anything but utterly loyal and optimistic? And this is how he’s repaid. Thanks, Mike, now get the hell out while we make another run at the playoffs–go hang out with that sorry excuse for a ballclub in St. Louis that keeps losing to the Royals.

I’ve tried to stop jumping the gun on Dombrowski trades. I was utterly heartbroken in 2002, when he traded Jeff Weaver, and look how that trade worked out. I swore after that trade I’d hate Dombrowski forever, because I loved Weaver, and a few short years later I was hailing the man as a genius, thinking, Even if it was straight-up Bondo for Dream, it would’ve been a great deal. But then I had the same knee-jerk reaction when he fired Trammell and hired Leyland, vowing I’d hate Leyland forever. That lasted about a week, and then just like everyone else I fell in love with the crusty old skipper.

Maybe it’s because Mikey is my favorite Tiger, but something about this trade feels different. Maybe I’ll look back on this and laugh, thinking how stupid I was, but for now it just hurts, like someone died. You know how when something really bad happens you’ll have these moments where you’re going along like normal, and then all of a sudden the realization will hit you full force again? That’s how it feels right now.

Mikey’s always been one of my favorites, ever since that game in 2002 where he went against Curt Schilling in Arizona. I thought he had no shot, and lo and behold, he beat the defending champs! For a couple years he played second fiddle in my rankings to Steve Sparks, my #1 favorite player of all time who can never be displaced from that spot. Perhaps I’ll get a chance to share Sparky stories at a later date, but not today. Once Sparky was gone though, Mikey moved up to #1 Tiger; and he (possibly unknowingly) upheld the longstanding tradition of class and kindness that seems to be the one common trait of all my #1 favorite Tigers over the years. Brian Hunter, Tony Clark, Brad Ausmus, Steve Sparks, Mike Maroth … and now the title falls to my beloved Jonesy.  

I’ll end with a couple of my Mikey stories … hopefully it’ll be a cheering up exercise.

2003: The Tigers came to the Bay Area twice, once to play the A’s and once to play the Giants. This was the year I did sketches of a bunch of Tigers and went around trying to get them signed. When the Tygs came in April, I still didn’t have one of Mikey yet; even so, I managed to chat with him over by the bullpen. “Come to the San Francisco series,” Mikey instructed after I explained. “If you’ve got one then, I’ll sign it.” As you would expect, I’d finished his sketch by the time the next series rolled around. I was over by the bullpen talking to Sparky when I spotted Mikey and called to him. He jogged over with that million dollar smile and said, “Told ya I’d come over, didn’t I?” He loved his sketch and hung around paging through the others, just to see who else I’d gotten.

2006: The Tigers came to Oakland, and of course I was there. Mikey was heading in after BP and I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him that day. (The day before I’d watched him in his first side-throwing session since the surgery, during which he couldn’t have stopped smiling to save his life, and asked how his arm was. He probably heard that question so many millions of times he wanted to puke, but even so he smiled at me and said it felt fine, that he’d waited so long to throw and it just felt so good.) He didn’t notice me in the throng above the dugout, so I yelled, “MIKEY!” He immediately popped back out, looking up and repeating incredulously, “Mikey?” I guess most people just leave it at Mike. Still it got me a chat, and in August when I finally got to Detroit, it served me in good stead. All the Tigers were running in, in those little soundproof bubbles where they won’t turn their heads for anyone. But one call of “MIKEY!” and his head whipped around. Catching sight of me, the Oakland kid, along the right field line, he grinned and yelled back, “Hey! What are you doing here?!” And I fairly glowed for the rest of the night.