Tigers On Top

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.