Tigers On Top

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.

I love Kenny Rogers. He defies explanation. How do you pick up pretty much exactly where you left off in the World Series after surgery and rehab? Tell us your secrets, O Wise Gambler!

After a needed day off thanks to the rain, the Boys got back to the business of winning today behind the Gambler, who turned in six efficient innings of one-run ball against those pesky Rangers. I think my favorite moment had to be when the radar gun picked up the speed of an outgoing line drive (which was caught to end the inning) at 96 mph. Kenny cracked up the whole dugout by taking credit, saying it was his pitch that went 96, even going so far as to stick out his tongue at actual flameballer Justin Verlander. Rod and Mario were in amused disbelief that a starting pitcher, in the middle of a game, would actually drop the game face and make his teammates laugh. That’s Kenny for you–he brings more to this team than his great pitching, and considering how he pitches, that says a lot.

At least some of the offense decided to show up today, especially in the form of Carlos Guillen who came through with a clutch bases-loaded hit, and a scorcher of a homer by Gary Sheffield. And it’s possible neither of them will go to the All-Star game … I agree with our broadcasters. I would put the Tigers A-lineup, with Kenny or Justin on the mound, against the National League All-Stars any day. And that would be one hell of a game. The Tigers could all be All-Stars!!! Just think about where we were four years ago, and think about now. Amazing, isn’t it?

My boy Jonesy pitched a happily uneventful ninth for his 19th save of the year, and is inching ever closer to that milestone of 300. I’m hoping (and this isn’t that selfish, because it would be very good for the Tigers) that the Tygs go on a tear throughout July, and that Jonesy gets his 300th save against the A’s in Oakland when I can be there. Well, either that or wait till late August when I’ve got tickets to my lone home Tigers game of the season against the Yankees … I would soooooo love to see him do that. I’m pretty resigned to him never making the Hall of Fame, but 300 saves would silence, at least momentarily, some of his more annoyingly vocal critics, the ones who call for his head with every blown save.

Speaking of milestones, I know this is a Tigers blog but I can’t help noting Craig Biggio’s 3000th hit (as well as the two that came after, on his FIVE-HIT night!). Thanks to the miracle of Extra Innings, I got to watch the epic Astros game and see the hit and the touching celebration that followed. As a San Francisco native watching the relationship between Bonds and the fans grow progressively more dysfunctional, it warmed my heart to see the unabashed love that Biggio has for Houston and vice versa. There are no rumors surrounding him, just a whole lot of love and respect for the way he plays the game and the way he conducts himself as a person. 

It was one of the most beautiful moments I’ve ever seen. His two sons came running out of the dugout, where they were allowed to serve as batboys while their dad was chasing 3,000; his wife and daughter rushed out of the stands onto the field to hug and kiss him; and all his teammates gathered around to embrace him and applaud him. Ex-Tiger Brad Ausmus, one of Biggio’s best friends, was one of the first to get to him.

But possibly the sweetest moment came a little later. Biggio went down into the dugout, maybe into the clubhouse, and when he emerged he had his dear teammate Jeff Bagwell by the hand. Baggy, of course, wanted the moment to be Biggio’s alone, and was being rather resistant, but Biggio pulled him all the way out to the middle of the diamond, where he raised their clasped hands as the noise of the crowd reached a new level. He said later that he wanted the fans to be able to say a proper goodbye to Baggy, like they never were able to. It was the perfect gesture–those two have shared practically everything in their careers–and shows you just the kind of man Craig Biggio is.

Just to cap the night perfectly, Biggio ended up with FIVE HITS, including the infield hit (again with the busting of the ass) that started the game-winning rally in the bottom of the eleventh. One of my absolute favorite ex-Tigers, Brian Moehler, had pitched the top of the inning and given up a home run to put Colorado ahead, 5-4. With two out, Biggio hit a sharp grounder to short, beating out the throw by running as hard as he could right out of the box. Hunter Pence (my pick for NL Rookie of the Year) followed up with one of the softest doubles imaginable, and then Berkman loaded the bases by getting plunked. Carlos Lee sent a grand slam soaring into the Crawford boxes to end the game in a victory for the Astros, who probably found new places to hold joy that they’d never thought of before. What an amazing night for them. I couldn’t be happier for Biggio.

The Tigers game got rained out today, hopefully giving the guys time to reflect on why they seem to play better on the road than at home. I shall use this opportunity to do what broadcasters often do during rain delays: Share a couple stories.

STEVE SPARKS

For those of you who may not know, Steve Sparks is a now retired, almost 42 year old knuckleball pitcher who played for the Tigers from 2000 through most of 2003. He was, is, and always will be my very favorite player. There are many Sparky stories to choose from in my stash, but I guess I gotta pick just one …

In 2003, I went on a “college” tour, which was actually a very thinly veiled tour of the baseball shrines I most wanted to visit. I always knew that I wanted to go to University of Michigan, so for the sheer convenience of it I also applied to schools in Boston and Chicago in order to see Fenway and Wrigley on this aforementioned tour. Ever so conveniently, the Tigers were at Fenway for a two-game series for the two games that Dad and I were in Boston. Funny how things work out … I wonder if we planned it that way.

By that time, I’d known Sparky for a while–nonetheless, he was surprised to see us, and gleefully listened to the tales of our tour so far. “See you in Detroit!” he said as we parted ways.

In Detroit, as you might imagine, it’s a bit more difficult to attract the attention of a Tiger, being surrounded by other Tigers fans. It was Negro League Tribute Day in Detroit, we’d had a great visit to the University of Michigan, but no Sparky. We hung around the dugout, just waiting, explaining to the security guard that yes, we really did know Sparky, when he wanted to kick us out. He gave us a look like, Surrrrre, of course you know him, but let us stay anyhow.

I began to despair when almost all the players had gone in. Then the Fox Sports Net guys began setting up chairs for an interview. “Who’re you guys interviewing?” I called to them, hoping against hope. “Steve Sparks,” they answered, sending me into a tizzy.

Within minutes, Sparky emerged from the dugout, clad in a beautifully baggy throwback Stars uniform, high socks and all. “Hey Colt!” he said, spotting me. Surrounded by hordes of small children thrusting their giveaway Stars caps at him, Sparky patiently signed away and asked for updates on the rest of our trip. I told him about seeing Wrigley Field in Chicago, going up to Ann Arbor for the tour of Michigan; we talked about his upcoming high school reunion in Tulsa, and the rumors that he might get traded to Houston (reuniting him with his old batterymate, Brad Ausmus).

Afterwards, as I walked up the stairs grinning ear to ear, the security guard stopped us.

“Man, you really did know him!” he said. “Is he your neighbor or something?”

 TODD JONES

If you’ve ever wondered about my strangely fierce loyalty to Todd ”Roller Coaster” Jones, prepare to be enlightened.

Since he got traded from the Tigers, I’d kind of followed Jonesy around, making sure I got to at least one of his games every year (usually in San Francisco) just to say hi and see how things were going. When he came back to the Tigers last year, I was elated.

The second game of the Oakland series, I was standing behind the visitors dugout when Jonesy came running in from right field, where he’d been stretching and playing catch. He was waving madly at someone, pointing at the on-field boxes. I watched curiously until it hit me–he was waving at me!

Dad and I scurried down to the boxes, where Jonesy persuaded Trey, the security guard, to let us down. There was an exchange of pleasantries, and then one of the most beautiful sentences I’ve ever heard: “Want to come on the field, meet some of the guys?” Are you kidding?!

No, actually, he was not. Jonesy opened the little gate onto the field as if this was something perfectly normal, told me to grab my camera, and slung an arm around my shoulders as we strolled down towards the Tiger bullpen. Jonesy then proceed to snap photos of me with the catcher’s gear, me and Jason Grilli, me with Marcus Thames and Curtis Granderson (who loved my orange-and-blue Converse high tops), introducing me to almost every member of the bullpen as I tried not to act like a blithering idiot.

Returning to my dad, Jonesy quickly realized he was on the phone with my mom. Grinning, he took the phone and brightly said, “Hi Mom!” Nobody could believe it. All my security guard friends were grinning almost as widely as I was; Trey was afraid I was going to pass out from sheer joy.

How can you ever do anything but love a guy who’s made you that happy? 

Normally when I see two solid weeks of home games on the schedule, it makes me happy.

After the past two days, I’m not so sure anymore.

The Tigers looked nigh unbeatable in the reported hell of the National League. Now back in the comfy environs of familiar Comerica Park, they’re finding ways to lose. Yesterday they lost by having Bondo turn in his first real poor outing of the year and scoring not so many runs. Though Grandy did hit his 14th triple of the year, so that was something.

Then today Little Nate returned, and looked very wonderful in his 5.1 innings. Four hits, one earned run (an inherited runner that Grilli allowed in) and general Detroit dominance. We got two runs right in the first inning, and then Grandy ensured that he’d get baseball’s version of the triple double with a home run in the third. Double figures in all three kinds of extra base hits, how delightful.

Enter our awful-again bullpen.

We are now without Rodney again, to make room for Nate. Not that Rodney was THAT much help, but still. Grilli came in and was not amazing, and then Byrdak gave up a three-run homer to Wilkerson, plus some more runs for good measure. To their credit, the Tigers hitters gamely bounced back in the eighth, touching up Otsuka for 3 runs to tie the game at 6-6.

Then Jonesy came in and hit a down loop in the Roller Coaster. Three runs, and despite a little whimpery threat against Gagne in the ninth, it was over. 9-6 loss, while Cleveland predictably refused to fall to the A’s and scored five runs in the ninth for an 8-5 win. Just makes you want to hurl, doesn’t it? We’re back in a tie for first, and I hate the bullpen more than ever. Except Jonesy of course, who no matter how many runs he gives up I can never dislike. I can cringe excessively when he comes in though, thinking of the imminent damage he’s about to do to the score and his own ERA.

MIKEY WATCH: Last night my boy Mikey Maroth made his debut for the Cardinals. And don’t we all wish he’d pitched like that the whole season with the Tigers! Despite looking incredibly odd in Cardinals red (especially those red spikes), Mikey pitched 7.1 stellar innings, giving up just one run on two hits. He also picked off two runners! Silly National Leaguers, you don’t know to stay close to first when Mikey’s on the mound. He’ll get you every time with that excellent move. The Cards lost eventually in extra innings, but as Mikey did not figure in the decision, having left the game with a 1-1 tie, I’ll chalk it up as a victory. Maroth 1, Everybody Else 0.

Anyone remember how Leyland was pissed at the scheduling folks for giving the Tygs a nine-game roadtrip through the NL? Judging by the 8-1 record, I’d have to say the National League rather agreed with the Tigers. Even the ESPN people are taking notice, which hardly ever happens given their massive obsession with the Yankees, regardless of record. The intro on Sunday Night Baseball was so one-sided that even Fox Sports Detroit might have gone, “Hmmm, maybe we should put a little more about the Braves in there.” ESPN failed to mention the Tigers’ semi-worthy opponents until the very end–after piles of delightful Tiger-worship, Jon Miller noted that, oh yes, tonight the Tigers will feast upon the Braves. Mmmm, yummy. 

Andrew Miller did a fine job, pitching six shutout innings against the Braves. The Tigers were shut out as well for the first five innings, but they were just biding their time, waiting for just the right moment. Gotta make sure there’s at least a little suspense. With the Braves, the scoreless streak was just a miserable continuation of their recent past. They only scored one run on the Tygs, isn’t that sad? For them, I mean.

Once the shutout had gone on long enough to be extra interesting, the Tygs efficiently smacked singles and doubles enough for four runs in the sixth–plenty for Miller and his replacement, the erstwhile starter Durbin, though they added one more. Durbin pitched three scoreless innings for the save, and if I do say so myself, his stuff was FILTHY. My dad and I, happily overdosing on baseball after watching the Yankees get their asses kicked in an afternoon game in San Francisco, kept going, “Ooooohhhhh,” as another batter’s knees buckled.

Conveniently, the Indians lost again to the Nationals, so our lead in the division is up to a whopping two games. Well, it seems whopping when you’ve been behind by two or three for the past month, anyway. I take this is as solid proof that we’re better than Cleveland–we swept the Natties, and they lost the series to DC. Ha, I say triumphantly.

I’m definitely interested to see how this new rotation will work out (at least when I’m not feeling incredibly depressed about Mikey). And, just a random thought, I think Miller would be much better looking if he’d just shave and cut his hair. Very slowly I’m starting to trust him … It takes a rather long time for pitchers to gain my trust; however, once they’ve got it, it usually takes a while for me to completely lose faith in them (see Todd Jones and the dearly departed Matt Anderson, who I still pine for occasionally). Durbin got shafted, in my opinion, but he seems to be dealing with it quite well, and if he pitches like that all the time in relief, then our bullpen will be much improved. Here’s crossing my fingers that Kenny and Miller keep up their unhittableness! And while we’re at it: Please come back soon, Zoom Zoom, we miss you terribly. 

For the first time in what seems like a while, the Tigers didn’t erupt for a boatload of runs. In fact, they managed just two runs off Atlanta’s Kyle Davies, but for Justin Verlander, it was enough. He’s been phenomenal for long enough that seeing a W by his name is no longer a surprise, but ever since the no-hitter he’s been taking it to a whole new level. Is it too early to start stumping for the Cy Young?

Let’s look at today. Basically no margin for error, what with leads of 1-0 and 2-1 (and, very briefly, 2-0, before Chipper Jones ended the Braves’ 31-inning scoreless streak with a homer). How does he respond to the pressure? Seven innings, four hits, the one run, two walks and eleven strikeouts. These are the kinds of games the Tigers need to be winning, these tight, nailbiting contests where pitching is key. We know the offense is there–but pitching is what wins championships. And damn, can Verlander pitch. (Now, if only Fox would have let me watch him!) It’s so hard to remember just how young he is. He is skilled and poised far beyond his years.

The offense took today as a semi-vacation, making just enough of an appearance to secure the win. Guillen spanked a homer, and Casey continued boosting his average with a 2 for 4 day (.281). Maggs was right back in there after getting hit on the hand yesterday, and was 1 for 4 (.381). I hope they all enjoyed their day of relaxation, because it would be really nice if they’d show up bigtime tomorrow night behind Andrew Miller on national TV. (The kind of national TV that even us lowly Californians can watch!)

One lefty left, and another returned.

Kenny Rogers and Todd Jones kind of remind me of two overly polite ladies visiting each other. Oh Kenny, Jonesy said, don’t feel like you have to pitch six shutout innings. Really, it’s not necessary, dear.

Pish, Kenny replied. Don’t worry, it’s nothing, nothing at alllllll.

Pitted against fellow crafty forty-year-old John Smoltz, Kenny picked up right where he left off. For five innings, the two wily veterans posted dueling goose eggs, baffling young ‘uns and oldsters alike. But in the sixth came that explosion of a crooked number we’ve lately come to expect from the juggernaut Tigers offense.

Kenny himself led off, though he didn’t exactly begin the rally in the sense that Bondo and dearly departed Mikey did. Rather than a squibbing single or a booming double, Kenny quietly struck out and headed back to the bench to watch the fireworks in comfort. And his mates pecked Smoltzie to death.

Granderson: Single. Polanco: Single. Sheff: Second out. Cue the clutchness. As my friends Ben and Jay always say, “Unleash the AWESOME!” Maggs: RBI single. Guillen: Two-run double that handily died just enough under the padding of the outfield wall that the outfielder had to go get it rather than letting it bounce to him. Pudge: RBI double. Casey: Intentional walk. Brandon, thus disrespected, just had to make the Braves pay for such blatant disregard with a timely RBI single. Sure Casey got hung up between second and third for the final out, but not before Pudge crossed the plate. And that was all the Tigers needed.

Kenny pitched his final half inning after the outburst, and it made me remember why I grew to love him last year (after lustily booing him for abusing the camera man and stealing Bondo’s All-Star spot the previous year). Right when he needed to shut the Braves down and extinguish all sparks of hope, he did just that. Grilli, Seay and newbie De La Cruz preserved the shutout, extending the Braves’ scoreless streak to epic proportions. Also of note, Wil Ledezma made his Braves debut and struck out the side. One of those strikeouts was Bobby Seay, making the very first plate appearance of his career. How a guy plays as long as Bobby and avoids batting completely boggles my mind and warms my trivial minutiae-loving heart.

Another thing that (surprisingly) gave me warm fuzzies: The Braves announcers. They were fair almost to a fault, and delightfully amusing. At one point they were discussing where all the cotton candy sticks in Atlanta had gone. One of the announcers said he’d discovered their hoarding place–Cleveland! There were dark mutterings about Cleveland stealing all the cotton candy. This somehow led to a discussion of how you never see baby pigeons. “You know why?” asked one announcer. “Because they’re all produced in a factory … in Cleveland.” Why the fixation on Cleveland? I have no idea. Later on the older broadcaster spent a good five minutes marveling over the younger’s pen, which featured four different colors of ink. So did the camera, as Ledezma was striking out his second batter. “What just happened?” the younger one asked, suddenly remembering the game still in progress. “I have no idea,” said the other–and somehow, it was just adorably baffling, rather than annoying. I almost hope Comcast uses the Braves feed again tomorrow–can’t wait to hear what tangents they go off on!

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.

We swept the Nats, we scored 32 runs in three days, and we are tied for first with Cleveland! What could be better?

Bondo’s record is still perfect, even though he only gave us five innings yesterday. Durbin got another win after another of his delightfully solid outings. The bats were oh-so-awake–did you SEE those moonshots Marcus Thames was launching? In almost every crucial situation, one Tiger or another would really step up and get it done (something the Nationals just couldn’t seem to do). Like Brandon Inge and Omar Infante yesterday with the score tied and the bases loaded. Base hit and base hit, game untied and permanently in the Tigers’ control.

I was a little worried going into RFK–what if the Tigers didn’t take these NL patsies seriously enough? What if they blew three golden chances for keeping pace with the Tribe? The first game seemed a semi-confirmation of these fears, with the Nats coming almost all the way back. But in game 2 and 3, the Tygs just buried the Nationals under a flurry of base hits, as they should have.

One worrisome bit in yesterday’s game was Pudge leaving with a spasming (is that a word?) hamstring. He says it’s not serious, but I won’t be pacified until I see him behind the plate again. Also, we traded Wil Ledezma to the Braves for Macay McBride, another lefty. According to the Tigers’ website, the big difference between them is that McBride has more options, allowing him to be sent down, which is not possible with Wil. McBride is also a lefty specialist. Leyland said it’s not for sure that McBride will be the one sent down to make room for Kenny when the Gambler returns on Friday, but really, why else would they have traded for him? If you weren’t planning to send him down, then what is the point of getting rid of Ledezma, who much as I hate to admit it has been more rocklike than the rest of our exceedingly suspect bullpen lately.

Hopefully this series will give the Tigers a good shot of momentum going into Atlanta to face Smoltz. They did almost everything right in Washington (just try to repress the second half of the first game). There was good pitching (mostly), good defense, and most of all, timely, clutch, and prolific hitting. We can’t rely solely on the offense to get us to and through the playoffs, but it sure doesn’t hurt to be scoring 8+ runs per game!

The first five innings of Monday’s game were pretty much perfect, wouldn’t you say? Especially the fifth itself. Mike Maroth did Jeremy Bonderman one better. Or maybe two or three better. Bondo started a rally with a seventeen-hopper back of the mound. Mikey started a six-run explosion with a booming double that went an estimated 380 feet. Yeah, MIKEY! The American League pitcher! (Goes away to cackle in still-thrilling triumph.) This was after some efficient hitting and a Carlos Guillen homer put the Boys up 3-1. Mikey seemed to be having a good night, working out of any and all jams without appearing too stressed (that changed in the sixth).

After Mikey’s double, of course, the rest of the offense couldn’t just sit there and let him show them up like that. Grandy made the most of a dropped foul ball by continuing to be patient and drawing the walk. Then Polanco, who the Washington broadcasters had been drooling over since the second they saw him, smacked a single to right and loaded the bases. Sheff came through with a two-run single, and then Maggs worked a walk to load ‘em up again! That was the end of the night for Chico, whose replacement, Abreu, promptly gave up another two-run single, this one to Guillen. Even Pudge’s GIDP drove a run in, that’s how insane the Tygs were in this inning. And Marcus Thames, undoubtedly miffed over the repeated mispronunciation of his name throughout the early innings by the Washington broadcasters (have these people NEVER heard of the river? It’s not pronounced Thaymz either), blasted a moonshot to left field as final rally punctuation. Turned out to be crucial as Mikey began to implode in the next inning, and Jonesy almost blew it in the ninth.

Mikey is not helping my cause of having somebody else sent to the bullpen when Kenny comes back (FRIDAY! Kenny’s coming back Friday!!!) by being seemingly unable to get past the fifth or sixth inning. He was gone without getting a batter out in the fifth, and the bullpen let the inherited runners. Nonetheless, a 9-5 lead in the ninth is still pretty comfortable, right? Right?

Actually, no. Jonesy came within some itsy bitsy teeny tiny measurement of blowing the game we once led 9-1. I have no idea why I still trust him, but I do. The idea of replacing him at closer makes unhappy shivers run up and down my spine. (Sure, sometimes said shivers also appear when he’s pitching, but not that much.) He gave up a leadoff double to Langerhans, and a single to ex-Tiger Rob Fick (the only National-turned-Tiger who hadn’t yet made an appearance–Nook Logan misplayed a fly ball in center and made me extra gleeful that we kept Grandy instead of him, and Dmitri … well I can’t really say anything bad about Da Meat Hook. I still like him.) The carnage continued at Cristian Guzman hit one of his trademark triples to bring the Natties within two. And with a soft line single to score him, the Nats were one away with absolutely NO outs. Oh that Jonesy, he surely is dramatic.

After giving up another single for good measure, Reliable tried to reassert himself over Rollercoaster. Yes, I think I’ve decided that pitching-wise, Jonesy is something of a split-personality. He got DY on a most stressfully achieved strikeout, then got Kearns to ground into a force out. Which still left runners on the corners with two out and Ronnie Belliard up.

I make no secret that Belliard rubs me the wrong way. He always wears his hat cockeyed, enough by itself to make me see red (I am very particular about caps). Then he’s got those stupid baggy pants that make him look like he’s wearing pajamas. And that ever present smirk that drives me absolutely insane. To see HIM win the game for the Nats against Jonesy would just be torture. He worked the count to 3-2 naturally, just to raise every Tigers fan’s stress levels to the max–then, thankfully, grounded out. And thus we had a 9-8 win and kept pace with the Indians. Cleveland, of course, romped all over Philadelphia in a stress free 10-1 win.

One of the coolest moments of last night for me was when Jonesy faced Fick. Whatever you may think about him personally, both he and Jonesy played pivotal roles in the final game at Tiger Stadium, with Ficker blasting the final homer, a grand slam, and Jonesy throwing the final pitch. Fick still wears his socks the proper way (Belliard, are you taking NOTES?!) though he seems to be trying to grow a beard of some kind. To put it kindly, it’s REALLY not working well.

For once, somebody else (coughPhilliesfanscough) has to cringe about their bullpen. After Justin Verlander and Adam Eaton matched quality starts (6+ innings, 3 earned runs or fewer), the Tygs teed off on the Philly bullpen in the seventh to score five crucial runs and turn the series into a delightful non-repeat of the Brewers series.

Did anyone else think that tomorrow’s headline might be Justin Vander Meer? I admit it, I had starry-eyed hopes of a second no-hitter (followed, predictably, by an unprecedented third four days later). Luckily Justin wasn’t too crushed when the second no-hitter died prematurely in the second inning. He didn’t have his best stuff today but he made it work, and his offense (thank the GODS) pulled him through. Mmmm, eight wins. Feels good.

So does the comeback. Statistically I’m probably wrong, but in my gut it feels like this year’s Tigers don’t have the same propensity for dramatic comebacks as last year. My stomach was kinda turning as we fell behind, thinking about how we had a chance to really take it to the Brewers after the no-hitter and ended up losing the series, and how we could have won yesterday after that game one blowout and didn’t … And of course, Cleveland had won already, how annoying.

But what a lovely seventh, and pretty good pitching by our bullpen. Rodney, of course, gave up a run, but at least it wasn’t four! And my boy Jonesy got his seventeenth save in a scoreless ninth. (While we’re on the subject of the bullpen … why the HELL hasn’t Mesa given up a run against us? TWO bloody appearances and not one meltdown! I feel cheated.)

Brandon Inge started the grand rally with a one-out double. Seriously, let’s keep that toe broken! Or keep him on whatever painkillers are making him so hit-happy, regardless of whether he’s injured. He’s got his average up to .254 now! How about that! Very intelligently, Leyland then pinch hit for Neifi Perez (I don’t care how brilliant his play was in the eighth inning of the no-hitter, he’s still a waste of a roster spot we could be using on Chris Shelton or someone else non-detrimental). Carlos Guillen, yet another of the Tigers who could reasonably share C-Mo’s Mr. Clutch moniker, singled, sending Brandon to third. The appearance of pinch-hitter Gary Sheffield sent Eaton to the showers, and thus began the feasting upon the Phillies bullpen. I could almost feel sorry for Eaton … you leave the game leading 3-1, and end up losing by what looks like a semi-blowout score of 7-4. That’s gotta hurt.

Anyways, Sheff singled to drive in Brandon and end Geary’s day. One batter, hit, RBI. Today, Geary, you are a failure. Zagurski came in to face Grandy, who was subsequently switched out for Infante. Oh the maneuvering! It’s kinda fun now but I think if I had to deal with it all the time I’d go nuts. Infante grounded out but at least he was productive, moving the runners up. Again, the reliever was in for one batter. I fail to see how this is incredibly intelligent, but hey, it’s not my ballclub. The next guy, Hernandez, got left in for comparatively LOTS of batters, and gave up, comparatively, LOTS of runs!

For some reason, Charlie Manuel felt that Zagurski was just not up to the task of intentionally walking Placido Polanco. It was entirely necessary to start off the new pitcher with four wide ones. Please don’t construe this as me liking the Phillies (not today, anyhow), but where is the logic in that?! A guy has just spent however long warming up trying to be on target, and then as soon as he gets in the game you tell him to just lob four to the catcher and put another runner on base? Why couldn’t Zagurski do it? He was coming out anyway! Most of the fans in the stands probably could have managed four balls to Polly, even the drunk ones; I’m sure Zagurski wouldn’t have been unduly taxed.

But I digress. Following said gutless pass to Polanco (I’m waving my rubber chicken from California! Be ashamed, Phillies!), the official Mr. Clutch came through, shooting a grounder toward the 5.5 hole. Abraham Nunez made a diving attempt at the ball, which tipped off his glove and skipped merrily away into shallow left center with Jimmy Rollins chasing after it. Two runs scored, putting us ahead 4-3! And then the two-run double into the corner by Maggs. Clutch, two-out hitting from the Tygs. Don’tcha love it?

There was yet more action in the eighth, in which the sacrificial lamb of the seventh gave up an insurance run on consecutive singles by Pudge, Brandon, and Guillen; Rowand left the game with a hurt leg; and there were rampant, delightful ejections. Well, for us Tigers fans anyway. ”We might have been able to come back,” lamented my Phillies-supporting buddy over whom I have bragging rights for the foreseeable future, “if the whole coaching staff hadn’t gotten ejected in the eighth inning.” It wasn’t the WHOLE coaching staff, just to clarify–it was manager Charlie Manuel and third base coach Steve Smith. Oh yes, and catcher Carlos Ruiz, who started the whole thing by saying “bad things in English.” Stupid Mesa finished off the eighth with no further trouble.

The Phils scratched a run off Rodney, but thankfully he decided that was interesting enough and stopped it there. In the ninth, my boy Mikey Maroth actually got called upon to pinch-hit–for Rodney. Begging the question, when you’re dealing with American League pitchers, is one really that much more skilled at hitting than another one? Nothing against Mikey’s hitting prowess, whatever it may be; he did make contact, grounding out. Pinch-hitting for a pitcher with a pitcher just seems kind of … superfluous.

Jonesy did not make the ninth unduly heart-stopping, giving up just a single to Bourn. Phew. I find the nickname Rollercoaster endearing but I like it when Jonesy acts more like his nickname is Old Reliable. And thus we came out of Philadelphia with the series win and one game less to make up on Cleveland. Starting tomorrow, it’s time to root as hard as possible for those Phillies, cause guess where they’re headed? The Jake. We on the other hand get to play six more games in National League parks without the DH. Hopefully the Natties act like the patsies everyone says they are for the next three days as the Tygs visit RFK in our nation’s capital.

What a delightful offensive outburst. Even without the help of the trusty seagulls, the Tygs pushed twelve across tonight with many amusing and wondrous highlights! I think we can all agree one of the best moments of the night was Jeremy Bonderman–7-0 since going his first five starts without a decision–getting his first major league hit. Well, it was actually more of a twenty-foot dying squib, but it’ll go down in the record books as a hit. Bondo was sucking wind the whole time, much to the amusement of his fellow starters, four of whom (Mikey, Durbin, Verlander and Little Nate) were standing all in a row at the top of the dugout with identical wicked grins. Immediately after the hit was official, Justin was calling for the ball. I would love to know what they wrote all over the dummy ball. (To digress for a moment, in case you didn’t know: When a player gets his first major league hit, they save the ball for him. His teammates also get a ”dummy” ball and write all sorts of crap on it to make the hitter feel bad and sometimes a bit angry, haha.) Mario and Rod gave him props for being a pretty alert and savvy baserunner. Watching him tag and come home from third on a sac fly was pretty priceless. I mean, I think everyone in the whole park knew there was no way he was going to slide, so he really had to book it.

And wouldn’t you know it, it was Bondo’s hit that started the five-run fifth inning. The Tigers had tied the game at 2-2 in the top of the second, as much through the Phillies enjoyable bungling as their own base hits. Everywhere you looked was an outfielder misplaying an out into a double, or the pitcher chucking the ball to a completely unmanned first base. And after Bondo’s hit, the boys really busted the game open. Pudge Rodriguez and Sean Casey both came through with two-out hits–Pudge’s was a three-run homer to make it 7-2, and Casey’s was a double that was just thiiiiis much away from being a homer. Mario Impemba actually predicted a Casey blast, and he and Rod spent the rest of the inning marveling at how close Mario was to being right!

It wasn’t Bondo’s best performance ever, but he had many impressive moments. Two especially spring to mind: How sweet was it to watch Bondo make Ryan Howard look foolish striking out, not just once but twice! And on a nice slider both times. Deeeelightful. So he gave up four homers. Big deal–they were all solos and we had a gigantic lead (except, obviously, for the first two. No sooner do the announcers start giving Rollins’ stats regarding leadoff homers than he hits one.)

Byrdak wasn’t great … I really want to nickname him Brilliant Byrdak but I guess that’s not going to happen anytime soon. I’ve never really had a lot of confidence in the bullpen even when it’s doing well, but this year takes my anxiety to new heights. I’m not complaining, cause we won and all, but when you’ve got a huge demoralizing lead on a strong team like the Phillies in the opening game of the series, you’ve got to KEEP demoralizing them! Letting them come back like that gives them hope, the last thing we want them to have.

Back to the offensive joy. Sean Casey, kick-starting his imaginary motorcycle each time he stepped into the box, motored his way to a four-hit night. If you didn’t know him, you might even think he wasn’t one of the slowest ballplayers in the league, with his doubles and scooting from first to third on the botched pickoff. Pudge was money tonight too, going three for five with five huge RBI.

Possibly not a concern to the rest of the world, but happy for me: I now have at least temporary bragging rights over two of my good buddies who are Phillies fans. I must say though that I’m kiiiind of afraid that this will go like the Brewers series where the Tigers look like a juggernaut in game one and then die in the next two games. We got a gift that Cleveland lost tonight–they seem to turn it on extra when we lose so they can open that gap even wider. But we can’t depend on them to lose, cause it seems like they hardly ever do. This is one division where there’s no chance in hell of backing into the championship. You’ve gotta want it, and hold onto it harder than anyone else.

I suppose it’s a bit … ungrateful … to begin a Ditch Rodney campaign. But let’s review his heinous crime today. Mike Maroth finally turns in a fine start, holding the Brew Crew to only one run in seven innings despite nine hits, and what happens? Rodney blows the whole thing on one bad pitch to Bill Hall. Ziiiiip BANG. Two run homer, Tigers lose. The seagulls were not working their mojo enough on the offense today.

Justin Verlander got interviewed in the dugout, which was a lot of fun (especially since Bondo kept chucking sunflower seeds at him). Kind of reminds me of when I’m interviewing a gymnast in the office and the other guys will make faces through the windows. He and Durbin went out to dinner the night of the no-hitter with their significant others and got a standing ovation at the restaurant! How about that? And Old Dominion sent Justin flowers, how sweet.

Well, at least for a day we’re back in second place, since Cleveland stubbornly refused to be helpful and lose. But Durbin’s going today! Perhaps some of Justin’s no-hitter magic rubbed off on him.

Okay, maybe the seagulls weren’t completely responsible for Justin Verlander’s amazing and wondrous no hitter. (A NO HITTER!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?!) But you have to admit, since they arrived the Tigers have either been scoring oodles of runs or getting really good pitching. Yeah, it’s only three games, but the results are undeniable!

Justin’s no-hitter was the Tigers’ first since 1984 when Jack Morris did it (and the Tigers won the World Series). It was the first by a Tiger in Detroit since 1952 (when the Tigers were astoundingly awful). If you were at that game, I am so massively jealous that words cannot express it. By the end of the game it was like Game 7 of the World Series. The excitement in Dan Dickerson’s voice almost made me cry, and the way everyone mobbed Justin was so cool. Then of course Jonesy got him with a shaving cream pie. Can’t let the kid’s head get too big, right?

So much for a sophomore slump. Justin is even better than last year. Not only does he have electric stuff, he has the smarts to use it right. Sure, smarts aren’t incredibly necessary when one can blow one of the best offenses in the game away in the ninth inning with 100+ mph fastballs. But they are necessary a lot of the rest of the time. Justin is no Nuke LaLoosh.

 As always seems to happen with a no-hitter, there were several eye-popping defensive plays. Just because he’s one of my faves, I’m going to highlight Brandon Inge’s defense at third. Oh yes, and ANOTHER home run. According to Mario and Rod, the broken toe actually IS helping him hit. Because he’s landing as gently as possible on that left foot as he swings, he’s staying back longer, his head is staying stiller, and he’s getting a much better look at the ball. And better contact, I might add!

The superstitions for this game were pretty hilarious. Pudge actually told him to just go away. Omar Infante, when sociable Justin sat down to chat, got up and left. Mike Maroth, who’d been keeping Durbin company charting the game on TV inside, refused to leave and see Justin make history live for fear of disturbing the no-hitter juju. Now, after the fact, we can all laugh. But during the game, rest assured, all superstitions were taken with the utmost seriousness.

Justin had twelve strikeouts. What insanity. It’s kind of funny, at the beginning of the broadcast the two announcers were saying he’s not the type of guy to strike out twelve or thirteen, despite his stuff. Man, and against the BREWERS! No-hitting somebody like the Royals is cool and all, but no-hitting one of the best offenses in baseball, a division leader, and only letting THREE balls get out of the INFIELD?!

I wish we had another off day today just to savor this.