Tigers On Top

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.

I must begin this entry by admitting I did not really see this game in the literal sense. I was watching the Dodgers beat the crap out of the Giants and keeping an eye on the flashing out of town scoreboard. Seemed like typical good Tigers from there though!

Saw a couple highlights later, and they made me joyous. I’m sure they made every Tigers fan joyous, except for the part where Jonesy momentarily yielded to the Roller Coaster half of his brain and made his 23rd save of the year a little more “interesting.” So, on to the happy things!

The Tygs fell behind (though, amazingly, not in the first inning! Is Bondo learning?) and then answered back with a vengeance. By vengeance I mean a gigantic Gary Sheffield grand slam. I sort of view him like Bonds; I don’t particularly care for his personality, but I’m incredibly gleeful he’s playing for my team and not against. I’ll take lead-grabbing grand slams any day! Mr. Nice Guy Sean Casey added a blast of his own, bringing his season total up to a whopping two. The Mariners broadcasters (Thursday night) were most amused by his kick-starting the motorcycle before each pitch. They didn’t know that’s what he was doing though; I guess you have to be a Tigers fan in order to see the motorcycle.

Bondo preserved his unbeaten road record, notching his tenth win with seven solid innings. My favorite highlight that my computer spat out at 1 in the morning, though, was Brandon Inge’s grab at third. Sometimes that guy seems super-human. I still can’t believe he actually caught that ball. He had no time to think, just had to react, like a football goalie during penalty shots. That’s what he reminded me of most as he was flying through the air. Only Brandon snagged the ball, and usually goalies miss. I didn’t see Baseball Tonight–if that was the top Web Gem of the night, could someone please inform me so I can celebrate further?

Last night in San Francisco, we fortuitously ended up sitting next to a honeymooning couple from Detroit, both decked out in Tigers gear. Neither of them was entirely pleased when I identified Jonesy as my Tiger. So I will now briefly defend Jonesy for others of you who may think I’m a loony. I am a loony, make no mistake, but Jonesy is not evidence.

He is fifth in the AL in saves, and could probably be higher but sometimes those pesky Tigers just WHOMP teams and then there’s no opportunity for a save, is there? It boggles my mind that Bobby Jenks of the “most disappointing team in baseball,” the White Sox, has one more save than Jonesy. (The SF Chronicle said that about the Sox … I was just thinking it.) The other three ahead of him (only ahead by one or two saves, by the way) are Cleveland’s Joe Borowski, Seattle’s J. J. Putz, and Anaheim’s K-Rod. I’d say Jonesy’s in some pretty good company. He has two more saves than the vaunted Papelbon also. Jonesy saves games a hell of a lot more than he blows them; it’s just that his blowups are usually so spectacular that they stick in your memory longer than the nights when he mows down the other team in order. Jonesy is the all-time Tigers saves leader and is coming up on 300. Trust me, he is a lot better than you think. And appreciate him now, because he won’t be around for the next million years like Zumaya. (Knock on wood, don’t want to jinx anyone!)

 Well I’m off to the ballpark by the Bay once again … Go TIGERS!!!!

Could that game possibly have been any weirder? My goodness. Battle of the Pheeee-noms turned into Mike Winters and Bruce Froemming competing for airtime.

It was perfectly obvious even to the semi-biased Mariner broadcasters that Pudge did not mean to “bump” Mike Winters. Pudge was merely demonstrating exactly where and how his throw had been completely and utterly obstructed. Obstruction, for the benefit of all Mike Winterses out there, is not an acceptable offense for a batter. Pudge’s throw went wild, and he was understandably livid at the lack of a call on Betancourt. In his spirited argument with Winters, Pudge’s shoulder brushed the umpire’s, and with that, the catcher was ejected. Oversensitive much? Calling an umpire one of several un-blogg-able names is an ejectable offense. Purposefully spitting in his face is an ejectable offense. But this?! There’s probably more contact when an umpire places a hand on the catcher’s back for balance as the pitcher throws the ball!!!

Later, when the Tigers were clinging to a 2-0 lead, came the other debacle. With the bases loaded, Adrian Beltre hit what looked like a close double. He overslid second, at which point Carlos Guillen attempted to tag him and missed. Bruce Froemming declared him safe. Beltre then got in a rundown–allowing the third run to score–during which Guillen narrowly failed to tag him at least two more times, with the umpire dogging their steps and calling him safe repeatedly. He slid into third with yet another safe call. Replays showed that Guillen never actually touched him, so I was ready to concede this one. But wait, there’s more!

With Beltre standing comfortably on third, Guillen got the ball back and tagged second for the cursory appeal. I’ve seen appeals innumerable times, and the umpire never fails to declare the runner safe (yet again). But this time, Froemming (with what I thought to be an evil little smile) made the out signal!! Thus more confusion and arguing ensued. I still don’t get it. That loss just tasted bad, worse than normal.

Miller had a pretty okay outing, though he constantly seemed to be in a jam. King Felix wasn’t too jam-less either, but Miller got into just one too many. With every entrance of a bullpen pitcher I groaned in agony, but none of them actually imploded, which I suppose is a good thing to take out of this. The loss shaved another precious half-game off our lead over Cleveland though, so pretty much nothing is going to make me feel better until the Tigers get on another winning streak! Maybe I need to go back to Detroit again …

With the exception of World Series Game 2 in 2006, the All-Star Game was probably the most amazing baseball game I’ve been to. Man, what a game. And where do you start?

I guess I’ll start at the beginning … My dad and I went to FanFest at the Moscone Center, where we got to see Cal and Billy Ripken giving a hitting clinic (and needling each other mercilessly, as you would expect brothers to do) and also participated in the Hall of Fame Trivia Contest, where we defended our title from 2003 admirably by thumping our opponents. The Hall of Fame guys knew we were crazy fanatics when we immediately answered, “1908!” when asked when Take Me Out to the Ballgame was published.

We got to the ballpark a little before the gates opened. We couldn’t walk 20 feet without bumping into more Tigers fans. I’ve never seen so many outside Detroit at a game where the Tigers as a team weren’t playing. It was marvelous! Dad and I were of course decked out in our Tigers finery–I even got my old Sparks jersey out so I’d match the Boys (it’s my only away jersey).

During BP, there was a huge gang of Tigers kids hanging out along the right field line. The ringleader was Dereck Rodriguez, who seemed to be making sure everyone had someone to play catch with, etc. When all the players were going out to do team pictures, Victor Martinez dropped his son off with Dereck. This kid was so tiny, he was drowning in the absolute tiniest baseball uniform I’ve ever seen. Dereck was so good with him, gently tossing him the ball for him to trap gleefully under his miniscule glove. He had a pretty good arm, actually!

The pregame fluff was just that, fluff, until the Willie Mays tribute. We knew something cool had to be hidden behind that green cloth out in center, but we didn’t know just how cool. It was a gigantic blowup of The Catch, and Willie entered the field from center through a double line of All-Stars who then trailed behind him like kids. Not to offend any Red Sox fans, but it was kind of like Ted Williams in 1999. Willie threw out the ceremonial first pitch, flapping his hand at the catcher to back up, then was helped into a gorgeous Caddy with fins by his godson, Barry Bonds. He made a slow victory lap around the field, chucking baseballs into the crowd. It was amazing.

The ovation Bonds got was wonderful too. The intros were pure San Francisco. Bonds got a delightfully long and loud ovation during which he was obliged to tip his cap numerous times. Every Dodger All-Star was roundly booed, and each one grinned good-naturedly through it. Even the Angels got pretty well booed (for beating SF in 2002), along with the Yankees, of course.

And then, oh yeah, the game. Every single Tiger got to play, as you’d expect when Leyland is the manager. Pudge got a hit but A-Rod stupidly tried to score from second on it, and Griffey’s throw had him out at the plate by a mile for the third out of the inning. Stupid Yankee!! Carlos Guillen eventually replaced Jeter at short and was so smooth that you could almost believe it was Giants shortstop Omar Vizquel out there. Polly got lifted early because of his back issues; Maggs made a good catch at the wall in left.

Watching Verlander though, even when he gave up a run, was probably the biggest Tigers pleasure of all. We kept looking up at the radar in disbelief–”Another one at 100? You gotta be kidding me.” And it seemed like if it wasn’t 100, it was 99–or 87. Dad, listening to the radio, reported that the broadcasters declared this change of speeds patently unfair.

The coolest moment of the whole game has to go to Ichiro’s inside-the-park homer, the first in All-Star history. He blasted a ball to Triples Alley, so naturally I was thinking triple. But I failed to factor in that the outfielders were unfamiliar with PacBell Park’s absurdly screwy right field, and the way the ball bounces off the various surfaces–brick, chain link, padding–and numerous archways and other jutting … things. Ichiro was motoring out of the box, and suddenly I realized he was at third and he wasn’t stopping.  Pretty much everyone just screamed in delight at what they were seeing, NL fan or AL. He scored standing up–the throw didn’t even have a chance!

And this game really felt like a game. The commissioner can say This One Counts as much as he wants, but that doesn’t prevent the All-Star Game from still feeling like more of an event than an actual game sometimes. But man, in the ninth when the NL loaded the bases with two outs, and Putz had screwed up so majorly and it looked like K-Rod might also … The intensity in the ballpark was just like when the Giants are trying not to lose a tight game in the ninth. Everyone was on their feet, yelling and screaming even though half of them by then were completely conflicted about who to root for. It didn’t matter–this was just baseball at its finest, taut and tense and brilliant.

I’m hella glad the AL won, of course–home field advantage, should our Tygs make it to the World Series! 

Okay, maybe that’s a bit of wishful thinking. But you know what wasn’t wishful thinking? That Grand Surprise my friends the Kids planned! It was the Tigers game!!! July 4th, to be exact, fireworks night and another nice performance from Kenny which got the Tygs started on their first half ending five game winning streak.

Tuesday, I arrived in Ann Arbor around 9:00 in the morning, and just a few hours later, my friend Nichole was on the verge of spilling the beans. “What time is the game tomorrow night?” she asked. I consulted my Tigers watch and said it began at 7:05. “You going?” I asked hopefully.

“Of course!” she replied as my buddy Michael glared daggers at her. “I mean … no …” Michael then proceeded to lie his face off, and I, being the most gullible person on earth, believed him completely when he said the surprise didn’t start until 8:45 the next night, and that Nichole’s car was still in the U. P. (That’s the Upper Peninsula, for you non-Michiganders.) It was, in fact, just down the street in the garage.

The Kids–Michael, Nichole, and Katie–kept me in almost unbearable suspense until we stopped for gas before getting on 94. Finally they let me in on the secret, and I could barely sit still the whole way to Detroit. I mean, the Kids don’t even really like baseball! And here they were taking me to a game! Michael had a friend of a friend in the box office, so we even got free tickets. We had great seats along the third baseline and cheered our way through the whole lovely 6-4 win, then oohed and aahhed through the fireworks. Pretty perfect night. And then the series win against the Indians, and the sweep of the Red Sox … really, could things have been any better?

Considering the trials and tribulations the Tigers have dealt with in the first half, I’d say a one-game lead at the break is pretty impressive. As we get more and more of our guys back, I’m hoping they’ll open up a more comfy lead. And it looks like we may get rid of Neifi soon! Twenty-five games to start, and (cross your fingers) perhaps Raburn will tear it up, thus making Neifi expendable. That would make me ever so gleeful.

I apologize for being absent for a week, but I needed it more than I can say. Going back to Ann Arbor was, to say the least, mightily replenishing. Saw the Boys (Tigers), the Kids (my best friends), and my boys (the gymnasts), and just let my favorite place in the world get familiar again. I should be fairly regular for the rest of the season, especially since the Tygs are gonna make another thrilling pennant run culminating, this time, with a World Championship!!!

P. S. Going to the All-Star game tomorrow! Full reports to follow, and of course they shall be verrrrry Tigers-centric.

That game could not possibly have been any better. Holy crap, what a game!!! You get a pitchers’ duel between Bondo, striking everyone out, and this kid Baker who left in the eighth having thrown fewer than eighty pitches. You get Ernie Harwell in the booth telling stories. You get Ernie Harwell in the booth doing some play-by-play, sounding like he never left. You get Curtis Granderson, highest All-Star write-in vote-getter, making a flippin’ astounding catch in center. And oh yeah, a Tigers win thanks to Mr. Moonshot, Marcus Thames!

Winning a game 1-0 is even more fun than winning 13-0. (Losing 1-0, we won’t even talk about.) Keeps you on the edge of your seat for the entire game. And what better night for Ernie Harwell to make one of his periodic returns to the booth. Jon Miller must have read my mind, because every time Ernie visits I wish he’d do play-by-play, and they almost never ask him to. But last night, Jon asked him TWICE. Hurrah! In his first mini-stint, just one batter, there was a foul and Ernie declared, “That one’s going to be caught by a man from Saginaw.” Just a little thing, but my dad and I went totally loony with joy at hearing the familiar Ernie-isms. Then next inning came our favorite: a Twin struck out looking, but according to Ernie, “He stood there like the house by the side of the road and watched that one go by.” Indescribably marvelous. They just don’t make ‘em like Ernie anymore.

All the Tigers looked great last night (except most of them when they were at bat). Grandy had himself a nice night, getting his fifteenth triple (!) and making an amazing catch out in center. At first it looked like he’d just glide to the ball, but all of a sudden he and everyone else realized it was dropping too fast. So he laid out horizontally, diving like Eric Byrnes, and just scooped that baby just before it hit the grass. And he wasn’t even on the All-Star BALLOT! For shame.

In the eighth, as I was starting to lose hope given the fact that soon we’d have to turn a 0-0 game over to our now Byrdak-less bullpen (and Zumaya-less, and Rodney-less, etc etc), Marcus Thames saved the day. The at-bat before, he lofted one to left but the wind knocked it down. This time he hit an absolute laser (which can’t technically be called a moonshot, but since it’s Marcus, I think we can make an exception) over the new fence to give us the 1-0 lead! Oh Marcus, I love you!

And then my boy Jonesy closed it out. Not so much with the Roller Coaster last night, eh? I love it when Jonesy changes from Roller Coaster to Strike Machine. Save #20 on the season! And the Tygs are just 1 1/2 games out of first going into what may be our toughest homestand of the season. Three games with Cleveland, then three more with the BoSox, who while they’re still ridiculous don’t seem to be exactly the buzz saw they were earlier. Perhaps my much closer proximity to the Tigers will bring them luck! (Or not.) Well, enjoy the off-day, savor the win, and say happy birthday to Steve Sparks and Sean Casey! Ann Arbor, here I come!

It worked! All the voting, the fake Yahoo addresses, the repetitive typing in of garbled combos of numbers and letters all succeeded! FIVE, count ‘em, FIVE Tigers are going to the All-Star game, three as starters! Only the Mets got more All-Stars than us (6) and the Red Sox tied us. Remember the old days when All-Star managers said, “Wait just a minute, do I really have to take one of those guys from Detroit?” Well those days are OVER! We’ve got five completely and unassailably legitimate All-Stars, and you could make quite a convincing case for Grandy, Sheffield, Brandon, and Bondo as well. Fun, isn’t it, to have your once-awful team now fielding a lineup of All-Stars practically every day? I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it!

I think we all knew that Pudge was going to the All-Star game. But with Polly and Maggs, we knew they deserved to start but didn’t know if the rest of the country would open their eyes to this fact. But I have new faith in the general population of baseball fans, to look past Cano’s pinstripes and realize that really, he is not even worthy of licking Polly’s spikes. And that Maggs would be the MVP of the American League if the season ended today. It almost feels weird, looking at the roster and thinking, “Yes indeed, he certainly does deserve to go to the All-Star game.” 

As icing on the cake, Justin Verlander made the pitching staff–really, how could he NOT?! but you never know with this, people get snubbed–and Carlos Guillen finally got some recognition for being one of the best shortstops in the majors. This was the first year I kind of resented the rule that every team has to be represented, because it might mean Carlos being pushed out for some Royal or Devil Ray to get on there. Yet somehow, it all worked out!

As for the rest of the All-Stars, I have to say that I’m happier with the teams overall this year than I have in a long time. If I were Jim Leyland, I would start Danny Haren, without hesitation (and if I were Tony La Russa and thus wanted the National League to win, which I most assuredly DON’T–I’d start Jake Peavy). Yeah, I’m a little biased, since the Coliseum is my favorite ballpark and the A’s are my second favorite team. But I’ve seen Danny Haren a lot this season, one of the perks of living out here in the Pacific time zone and 45 minutes from Oakland. He is amazing, flat-out unbelievable. And if, as we are to believe, This One Counts, Haren would put the AL well on its way to a win. (Knock on wood!)

I’m probably in the minority on this, but I’m glad Barry Bonds will get to start for the National League. Say what you want about steroids etc (just not in my presence)–there is no drug in the world that can give you the incredible eye-hand coordination that he has. The All-Star game is in his home ballpark, the only one where you can reasonably assume that the majority of the fans support him, and he should be out there. He’s put up some quality numbers so far this season, and however you feel about him personally, you never look away during his at-bats. That said, I look forward with great anticipation to watching our Justin strike him out on three blazing fastballs. Haha!

Gametime for the Boys is in about an hour, and hopefully the glee will continue with a win. I shall return tomorrow to rant or exult about tonight’s game, and then I’m leaving until next Sunday … for MICHIGAN!!! I am uncertain as to whether blogging will happen when I’m there, but rest assured I will return. My dear beloved friends are planning some sort of Grand Surprise for next Wednesday–perhaps we’ll be at the Tigers game!!! (See that? That’s what realistic people like to call wishful thinking.)

But you know what is NOT wishful thinking? When I return from my blissful interlude in my beloved Ann Arbor, I will head straight to San Francisco. Yes, we have tickets to the All-Star game, and yes, I am GOING, full Tigers regalia and everything. Wahoo!!!!!

When the Tigers are on a winning streak, time seems to pass at a ridiculous pace. And even on a losing streak so tiny it barely even deserves the name, days seem to stretch out and last about a week each.

What happened to the pitching duel that was supposed to happen between Santana and Verlander? I think if you’d ask me the pitcher I’d least expect to get blown up it would’ve been Verlander. If Kenny blows up, you blame it on coming back from the surgery; if it’s Bonderman, it’s probably in the first inning and you kind of expected it to happen; if it’s Miller, you blame it on being young and taking his lumps; if it’s Nate … well Little Nate just kinda does that sometimes.

But VERLANDER? He of the unhittable filthy stuff? And against Santana?

I guess everybody’s got to have a bad day. I just wish Polly’s second homer of the year had gone for more than keeping us from getting shut out 11-0 (as opposed to getting trounced/walloped/crushed 11-1).

So you think, Hey, the Tigers are a resilient team. They’re big on the bouncing back. They’ll win the next day, right? Wrong! It was Andrew Miller’s turn to blow up. I admit I’ve been waiting for that, like last year when the Tigers were going so unbelievably well  I was waiting for the proverbial other shoe to come crashing out of the sky on my head. At least we got a bit more hitting, jacks from Grandy, Moonshot Marcus, and His Pudgeness. My buddy Grilli was not a tremendous amount of help out of the bullpen either. Whatever crazy anti-pitching curse has been affecting the bullpen, I’m afraid they’re contagious and spreading it to the starters. Hopefully tonight being on ESPN yet again will inspire Bondo to have a breezy first (and second thru eighth or so, haha) and the rest of the Boys to score more runs than the Twinkies! I am ever so perplexed as to why we seem unable to win consistently at home, and against our own division. Yeah, it’s the toughest in baseball, but we’re the BEST TEAM in baseball. I don’t care what the Red Sox’s record is. We should be taking every single home series, no two ways about it.