Pat Caputo Still Reminds Me Of Lewis Grizzard

Pat Caputo

Lewis Grizzard



I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.

It’s posted all over this blog and my other sites for people to see – so I have no problem reaffirming this publicly yet again.

Pat Caputo is the best sports writer – best sports radio talk show host – best commentator on sports news in the greater Detroit Metropolitan area.

Including Windsor, which Caputo himself proclaimed to be “South Detroit” by way of expressing his displeasure for a specific Journey rock song played at the Joe Louis arena during Red Wing games.

Pat’s a personality to be sure.

He’s “The Book On Sports” – or simply “The Book” for short.

A character indeed.

He is a character of high character, in my personal and as always humble opinion.

I started following Caputo after hearing him on the radio, now broadcast on FM 97.1 The Ticket – Pat has been a mainstay on the radio waves keeping listeners involved in Detroit sports teams.

I’m a baseball fan myself.

Nobody in this town talks baseball like Pat Caputo.

Or hockey.

Or football.

Pat reminds me a lot – an awful lot – of my favorite sports columnist from The Atlanta Constitution and Journal – Lewis Grizzard. Grizzard was a masterful story teller who told you the story of the game as though you were sitting and talking to him. And he was deeply proud of growing up and being a Southerner – telling wonderful stories of growing up in his hometown Moreland, Georgia.

He loved and defended the area he grew up in – defending southerners against the often belittling Northerners who stereotyped all Southerners as … well … dumb.

That just plain ain’t true.

And Grizzard was also cited on several cases for being a racist – once being sued by a reporter who worked for Grizzard when he was the editor of a Chicago newspaper – a case Lewis won – although it didn’t matter much because once a stigma like being a racists is put in the minds of the masses – it sticks.

But Grizzard wrote exactly as he spoke. Charming, witty, and poignant.

And that is where most of all I draw the comparison between Pat Caputo and Lewis Grizzard. Both writers have been nationally celebrated and honored. Both writing with the same ease and manner in which they speak. Both personalities transcending the newspapers they wrote for to become easily recognized celebrities in their regions.

One a northerner who will stand up for the aching sorrows that Detroit has been through the last four decades; as the city tries so desperately to pull itself back up by its bootstraps to recover to the truly beautiful place it once was and in many ways still is at the corner of Lake St. Clair and Lake Erie – sitting in the middle of the mighty Detroit River.

The other a southern gentleman who stands up against the wrongfully projected stereotypes of what Georgia was by telling stories of his parents who divorced, and the local neighborhood population of Moreland.

Both do so with humor, with honesty, with some humility and with a little extra … panache.

But the days that Caputo writes and talks about are much different today than those of Lewis Grizzard some twenty years ago.

There’s more media today. And that media is interactive. There’s this whole Internet thing, you know.

The Book writes a blog online for the Oakland Press called “Open Book: A Sports Blog”. Caputo’s blog is the first I ever really followed – and is honestly the very reason I started headstuffing. Pat even helped me out here and there along the way.

Similarly it was Lewis Grizzard who inspired me to pick Journalism as a freshman in Georgia.

You couldn't really comment on a newspaper column in the old days - except by writing a letter to the editor. And lot's of such letters were written regarding one column or another of Lewis Grizzards. Sometimes Grizzard even wrote columns about the letters to the editor of readers despising him for one reason or the others.


I comment on Caputo's Open Book blog quite frequently. The collection of usual suspects that loyally comment are an eclectic bunch who really know their stuff and often expand the commentary from a single line of thought to a conversation that is held over weeks.

I’m the dumbest one in that eclectic crowd.

Conversations about who should hit second in the Tiger’s line up, and what’s really wrong with the bull pen and who could the Tiger’s get to play second base and who could the Tiger’s give up, and … well, you know … the usual sports blog / call in radio show kind of stuff.

But on the Open Book, we all kind of know each other – and we all kind of know the Book. And he kind of knows us too.

I liken it best to stopping into my favorite pub on my way home from work to sit and talk about the topics of the day with all the other guys like me who stop in the same pub – for a quick pop, but more so for the great conversation that is omnipresent.

But – as on any other blog – even including my own – are the anonymous commentators who insult and belittle the author – in stealth mode most often – not leaving a name behind their insults and put-downs.

Caputo publishes all these comments – wanting sincerely I believe to be transparent and allow his naysayers to have their say.

A lot of them are very rude. And Pat answers them with dignity – and usually with the response that everyone is entitled to an opinion. And the Book On Sports allows all opinions to be expressed.

I admire Pat for that.

I wonder – would Lewis Grizzard – should he still be alive today – would he have had a blog? I bet he would have – albeit he hated newfangled gadgetry like word processors – preferring the clicks of a typewriter and the ring of the carriage at the end of sentence flying back to begin the first word of the next paragraph.

And I wonder how Lewis Grizzard would have responded to such insulting comments posted about him on his own blog. I’m certain that he would have published them. But unlike Caputo – Grizzard would have cherished the opportunity to rip into each one just to hone his ability to craft the best retort.

Grizzard’s retorts would have been simple, sharp, and plainly stated in the tone of a true Southern gentleman:

“... And you sir are libelous scoundrel”.

Catching Economic Pneumonia

The American Automobile Industry is in serious trouble.

Chrysler and GM are both faced with potential bankruptcy situations. The American federal government is struggling with finding a way to bail them out – hesitant to throw money at a problem where money won't likely solve the plight but instead only post-pone it.

The outlook at this moment is very gloomy for the Motor City of Detroit. This is a town that has already seen itself erode away to a mere shadow of its former metropolis status – with no signs of healing as city political scandals and racial tensions continue to undermine any chance of recovery.

What many American's may not know is that there is also a great deal of the Automobile Manufacturing done on the other side of the Detroit River – in my hometown of Windsor, Ontario. Since the dawn of the industrial revolution brought on by Henry Ford's invention of the mass assembly line, Windsor has hosted major manufacturing facilities for the Big Three – as well as all the supporting services such as tool and dye shops for parts manufacturing.

The vast majority of employment in Windsor is directly related to the manufacturing of American automobiles.

Over the last three years, we have seen plant shut downs and companies going out of business as the Big Three continue to crumble under pressures of low car sales, high gas prices, and the cost of a unionized labor force.

The Canadian federal government is also looking at ways to assist the Canadian Big Three entities. But much like the Americans, they realize that simply throwing money at these problems will not resolve the crisis at hand.

Over the past three years strides have been made in the quality of the Big Three products, as well as the fuel consumption. And the Unions have made some concessions to ease the burden on the Big Three. But in both Detroit and Windsor, the public outcry is a finger pointed right at "foreign" automotive manufacturers.

Right up the 401 from Windsor in Woodstock is the Cami Automotive assembly plant – jointly operated by GM and Suzuki. Up the highway further is the Toyota manufacturing plant in Cambridge. Each is supported by the same parts manufacturers, trucking firms, and suppliers used by the Big Three. As well, there a numerous plants across the United States manufacturing the "foreign" automobiles.

Yet Ford sends their parts to be assembled for many of their models in Mexico.

Quite clearly, the collapse of the Big Three is larger than just North America. The scope of impact of such a collapse would be felt in absolutely every sector of every economy in every country on the planet.

Yet as one drives through Detroit – you see all kinds of signs, billboards and bumper stickers urging their population to "Buy American". And oddly enough, Windsor – a Canadian city - has bumper stickers quoting "Want to lose your job? Keep buying foreign cars!".

I don't think those Canadian Auto Workers realize their American Auto Workers think of them as foreigners taking American Jobs away.

And I can only wonder what the bumper stickers in Mexico say.

If I were a betting man – which I am not – I would bet on the Big Three declaring bankruptcy. I would bet on the Big Three status to be in receivership by the end of 2009. And I would bet that the Big Three would find themselves being completely restructured – and in the end – find themselves to be much more capable of doing business in this new global economy.

Sometimes when something is really broken badly, it has to be completely taken apart, the damaged parts replaced or redesigned, and then put back together again.

And that is what I see about to happen to General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler.

And the World economy will catch a bad cold, but heal.

The North American economy will catch pneumonia but it will survive.

But Detroit and Windsor will disappear as we know them today.

Thank You Ivan Rodriguez

Yankee Stadium is known as the 'House that Ruth Built".

And Yankee Stadium is coming down after this 2008 season is over. A newer version being built right next door.

The core of the Detroit Tiger's current roster could be known as the "Team Pudge Built". And now this team may come down just like old Yankee Stadium.

Wednesday, in a very sudden move, was traded to the New York Yankees for relief pitcher Kyle Farnsworth.

Farnsworth is a mediocre pitcher at best – recently pitching well, but much like the Tigers own closer Todd Jones – Farnsworth is unstable at times in the role. Yankee fans had dubbed him "Krazy Kyle".

Great. Just what our bullpen needs – another flakey unstable bullpen pitcher.

Ivan "Pudge" Rodriguez is in my opinion the greatest catcher to play the game during my generation. During his eighteen years of major league play he has attained a lifetime average of .302. When men are in scoring position his lifetime average rises to .382.

But while Pudge's bat is potent (perhaps waning in recent years) and still a threat, his prowess as a catcher is even more threatening. His laser like arm has so far thrown 597 runners trying to steal bases.

Pudge was named to the All Star team 14 times. He was the American League MVP in 1999. He was the MVP of the 2003 National League Playoff Series (NLPS) in 2003 as a Florida Marlin – the one of few years he was not named to the All Star Team.

Catchers have often been called the known as the "Quarterbacks of Baseball" calling pitches for most pitchers, and as the only player to fully view the entire field, leading the defense as each unique situations evolves in a game. And this is where Pudge is a master. He is a leader. In the locker-room he is known to inspire, and discipline his teammates with command and respect.

And the Tiger's will surely miss Pudge. Acquired during the offseason in 2004, on the heels of his 2003 NLCS MVP title – Pudge miraculously appeared in Detroit and donned the old English D. In 2003 the Tigers had lost 117 games – tying the worst record in Major League Baseball history.

And then came Pudge. He came to Detroit, and the fans took notice. And they realized the Tigers were about to get a lot better.

2004 saw some improvement as they lingered around the .500 mark. In 2005 a couple more moves were made as more and more players wanted to come to Detroit to be in Pudge Rodriguez team.

In 2006 – a season they thought was still one of building – the Tigers went to the World Series – led by Pudge Rodriguez. Unfortunately they lost that series to the St. Louis Cardinals – an inferior squad who for that series played superior ball.

These last two years have been spent tweaking the team to get back to the post-season. This 2008 season is still in question as the midway of the season behind us and the Tigers still five to six games behind the Chicago White Sox for the American League Central Division.

But our bullpen these last two seasons has been poor. More games lost by the bull pen than any other cause. So relief help was considered a top priority of the Tigers would make a push in the end here to make it to post-season ball.

So Dave Dombrowski and Jim Leyland – two baseball minds I have absolute respect for and trust in – deemed the best move to be a trade – even up – Pudge for Farnsworth.

It's a hard one to swallow.

But in Pudges defense – he deserves to be a member of the most storied team in Baseball – in a the last season of the house that Ruth built – before it comes down.

But it stinks if you're a Tigers fan.

Adios amigo Pudge – Tiger fans love ya – and we wish you the best – unless it comes down to the Yankees and Tigers in American League play.

Can somebody please show Mr. Farnsworth to bullpen. And tell him he owes this team some amazing pitching after what he has cost us. He had better get the job done.

As the Snow Melts

I just stepped outside at lunch time here at the office. The temperature was easily 13 Celsius, or 55 Fahrenheit. The sun was shining warmly on my skin. The birds were singing.

And the snow was melting.

As I stood there enjoying the warmth, I couldn't help but start to make a list of all chores about to come due:

• Clean the brush out of the gardens
• Overhaul the lawnmower
• Sand and paint the decks
• Get the patio furniture out
• Clean out the garage
• And one day even open the pool
  

And I started to think about my long lost summer routine: coming home from work each night, throwing on a bathing suit, grabbing a beer, and sitting out on the back deck listening to my beloved Detroit Tigers on the radio.

And I started to think about baseball. I started to think about my Detroit Tigers heading home in a few more weeks to open the season at Comerica Park. I started to imagine what our team will look like after our block buster trade in the fall where we acquired an all star third baseman in Miguel Cabrera and an all star starting pitcher in Dontrelle Willis.

Our former shortstop Carlos Guillen, easily one of the most under-rated players in the league will move this year to first base. Edgar Renteria was also acquired from the Atlanta Braves and will join our infield as well.

So these three new players will join our already strong roster of Pudge Rodriguez, Gary Sheffield, Maglio Ordonez, Placido Palanco, and Curtis Granderson.

To a person who knows major league baseball this sounds pretty strong.

Our starting pitching rotation got stronger as Willis joins Justin Verlander, Jeremy Bonderman, Kenny Rogers, and Nate Robertson.

To a person who knows baseball – this sounds like an indestructible team.

But we have an Achilles heel. Our bullpen.

For years past, we relied heavily on our closer Todd Jones. Two years ago we got our hands on a young rocket – fireball thrower Joel Zumaya, who filled our short relief role. Fernando Rodney had always been strong in the long relief role, as did Jason Grilli. These four guys did an incredible job in 2006 by being rock solid and helping the Tigers get to the World Series.

But alas, last year was a different story. Our bullpen let us down. Bad. Joel Zumaya injured his finger on his pitching hand playing "air-guitar". Fernando Rodney had something wrong because his pitch speed dropped from the mid 90s to the mid to high 80's and was getting blasted all over the park. Jason Grilli just plain lost it, as did Todd Jones, who had trouble getting anybody out.

There were so many games that we should have won last year, but lost because the bullpen let five run leads slip away and lose. We were leading the American League Central at the All Star break. Everyone was talking about the Tigers coming back to the World Series in 2008. But we didn't even make the playoffs.

That same bullpen is in spring training. And from everything I can read and hear on the radio – it sounds like the same bunch of problems. Zumaya is still hurt. Rodney and Jones are still not right.

As Yogi Berra would say, "it's deja vous all over again."

It would be a shame to see such an amazing batting line up go to waste. Getting eight to ten runs in a game only to lose in the closing innings. It would be a shame to see Verlander, Willis, Rogers, Bonderman, and Robertson pitch 6 innings of shutout ball, only to see the remaining three be a slug-fest for the opposition.

It could easily be a year of frustration. Not only for the Tigers, but the fans as well. Knowing full well the bullpen issue has been visible for the last ten months. But nothing change.

Or the bullpen boys could turn it around. Get the job done. Hold 'em off.

But that's not what we are seeing in spring training.

I better make sure I get those decks sanded and painted first. That'll give me a place to put the radio and set my beer down so I can listen to the games each night.

Gimme the Ball

It has been a long week.

I spent last week in Toronto with my new team. The team that I was on before disbanded at the conclusion of a very successful project. I am still learning how to participate with my new team. I was lucky to land on this new team. I know I was.

I guess I had always considered myself to be a utility player on my last team. We brought in Java and I led the early projects. We brought in new modeling and documentation standards and I adopted and molded those new methodologies into our environment.

I always thought of myself as our ‘third baseman’.

Hit the ball hard at me. I will field it – bare hand it if necessary – and get that guy at first. Get the job done. Hopefully with a little pizzazz to boot.

Hit the ball to me.

On my new team, they do not know me yet. I don’t think they know how I can fit in. I guess it will take some projects under our belts together. This is fair, yet frustrating. Until this happens, I will watch the ball be given to my counterpart – who by the way is no slouch – quite capable – and enjoyable to work with.

“But …hey … hit a ball to me?”.

While our team was in Toronto last week, my other team – the Tigers – made some big trades.

Seems we picked up Miguel Cabrera and Dontrelle Willis for Calvin Maybin and Andrew Miller.

Maybin and Miller are both expected to be all stars of the future.

Cabrera and Willis are all stars of today.

So we basically traded what could be for what is. And that is a hard deal to not make.

But Cabrera is a third baseman. He bats in the .350s. He is a good third baseman.

Currently our third baseman is Brandon Inge. And Inge is one, if not the one, of my favorite players. He is listed on Alannah’s T-Ball baseball players card as her favorite player. I have written about Brandon a couple of times here.

Inge is – as Detroit fans call it – my Tiger.

Brandon is – in my opinion – an excellent defensive player. Diving stabs behind third, short bare-handed plays off his shoelace. Usually with a little pizzazz to boot.
He was considered an excellent fielder by those who critique – until this week. Suddenly he is just “all right”.
You see – Brandon’s bat was streaky – with more slumps than streaks. And many in town had been wishing for a power hitting third baseman for some time now. It was Brandon who was the final at bat with men on in the bottom of the ninth of the final game of the 2006 World Series – striking out to end the season. And some just did not forgive that.

Right now I can identify with Brandon, who has asked to be traded rather than sit the bench or play a utility role. I don’t blame him. He wants the ball.

But the frustrating part is that we don’t know how an overweight Cabrera will handle slimming down to defend third. Will he be as good as Inge?

How many Tigers do ya have to lose before they stop being the Tigers?

I will give Cabrera a chance. But I will root for Brandon where ever he travels to. Even if Inge lands in San Francisco – he will still be myTiger.

Because he wants the ball.

And I think that to me is the most endearing trait any player can have.

That and a little pizzazz.

Special Tiger Moments Keep Stacking Up

By now you have most likely heard that Detroit’s Justin Verlander pitched a No Hitter Tuesday, June 12, 2007. Below is a recap of the game showing this amazing feat.

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The game was not on Windsor Cable - unless you cough up the big bucks for the MLB package.

So - like every night, I was sitting in the back yard listening to the ball game - and it started to get special as early as the 4th.

Dan Dickerson and Jim Price painted that game so beautifully for me, I could see the wicked slider, and imagined the Infante - Polanco - Casey double-play. When I saw the replay it was exactly how I imagined it. It's in the video clip I embedded above.

But the most amazing thing was how they conveyed the importance of the moment - what was really happening - without saying it.

".. and the boxes all have zeros for Millwaukee!"

They never even came close to crossing the jinx line.

That was soooo great.

What made it more incredible was the fact he threw a fastball to the first batter in the first inning around 103 MPH. That’s as fast as most any man can throw. He threw a fastball 102 MPH to the last batter in the 9^th inning – some 110 pitches later.

That’s an amazing feat.

And he did it in our own yard.

Since Comerica Park assumed the role once that of Tigers / Briggs stadium seven years ago, it has seen

• The worst record in baseball – 117 losses in one season
• The 2005 All Star Game
• The 2006 World Series
• And now Justin Verlander’s No Hitter.

I told you earlier that Comerica Park was very special to Darlene and I. I believe now that Comerica Park has seen enough new history to be important to all Detroit Tiger Fans.

I also told you earlier how Willie Horton signed my daughters baseball card. He also signed his own card for Darlene. Mr. Horton is immortalized by one of 4 huge bronze statues in Comerica's center field

And this season I have been lucky to exchange comments and opinions with Detroit's best baseball columnist Pat Caputo - although I probably stay at a higher and lighter level than he would like.

I really feel close to this team - to this season. Any closer and I would be opening beers and lighting Marlborough's for Jim Leyland in the back yard.

But our Tiger's have an Achilles Heel this year. Their bullpen has let us down more times than it has helped us for sure. Our record could be at least 5 games better right now if our bullpen could have held the lead the starters left the game with. I will let "The Book" explain it best. I posted my comments on his comments page.

Let's see how the All Star Game goes for the Tigers. Leyland will be the manager for the AL side, with Justin Verlander starting, and Maglio Ordonez starting in right. And who knows who else might show up.

Or not show up. It may be that Barry Bonds does not even go to the All Star game the very season he is to break Hank Aaron's homer record. Is that justice or injustice - an interesting debate?

Well, back to the basement to do more packing.

Mr. Grizzard and Mr. Caputo

As June arrives in Windsor in muggy summer fashion, I sit in my backyard listening to the Tigers game from Arlington, Texas. Tonight we are up 5 - nothing in the top of the fifth.

I'm tapping this into my little PDA. I hope this works.

Ask anyone who knows me, and they will tell you I am a sports freak. I love my baseball, my golf, hockey, and basketball. If the Lions didn't stink so bad, I might go back to loving football too.

Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that I actually think I know what I am talking about.

I am right more often than not. That puts me somewhere between 51% and 99% accurate. I can live with those margins.

When I was in university in Georgia, I used to read a sports columnist in the Atlanta Journal Constitution named Lewis Grizzard.

Although he was a sports columnist, he was more of a general humorist. I would buy the whole paper just to read his column. I loved the guy so much that I switched my major to be a journalism major and a poli-sci minor.

Why political science?

It seemed to me that joking about politicians would be funnier than sports. Perhaps - but sports are much more "real". And politicians are too easy to make fun of.

Mr. Grizzard died some time ago. Some would say his lifestyle kIlled him.

I write this blog in the memory of Mr. Grizzard.

I even try to emulate his style.

In Detroit, the best sports columnist is Pat Caputo. He writes for the Oakland Press and has a radio show -The Book on Sports - on 1270 AM.

I have a link to his blog site 'Open Book' on the left sidebar. I post comments quite often to his blog - pretending to be a knowledgeable sports fan, and Pat is very generous in his replies.

In one post, I was actually referred to as one of the great Canadians. Unfortunately he was kidding.

But I am enjoying this blog very much. To all who have been reading, thank you. I will try to do a better and more consistent job.

Below is a Lewis Grizzard Column from the Spring of 1992 - after his beloved Atlanta Braves lost the 1991 World Series to the Minnesota Twins. This is pure Grizzard:

The Boys Of Summer Go Under The Dome Lewis Grizzard Baseball season came to a rather rotten end for me in 1991. There I was in Minneapolis's house of horrors, the Metrodome, covering the seventh game of the World Series between Atlanta's Braves (with apologies to the Portland Oregonian) and the Minnesota Twins, a nickname a clever person said was insensitive to couples who couldn't have children. Around the fifth inning, with no score in the game, the ribbon on my typewriter, which was manufactured sometime around the turn of the century, suddenly wouldn't advance. I couldn't make letters and words appear on the white paper in front of me. I fiddled with the problem for six more outs and was nearing a panic stage. What if I couldn't figure out a way to free the ribbon? The game would end and I would have to write my column longhand and I hadn't written anything in longhand since my last essay-type test in college. And who could I get to help me with the ribbon? Everybody else in the press box was writing on a Star Wars computer. Who would remember about typewriter ribbons? By the grace of God, I finally hit the right lever inside my typewriter and the ribbon started moving again. Then the Braves lost 1-0 because Lonnie Smith went brain dead on the base path. I finished my column and left the Metrodome. Outside, Twins fans were celebrating by doing such things as climbing onto the tops of buses. I had hired a car and driver to take me back to my hotel. Some kids had asked my driver for whom he was waiting. "Some guy from Atlanta," he told them. When I arrived at the car the kids began heckling me. "We beat your [bad word]!" one screamed. "Go home, you redneck!" screamed another. Once I was inside the car and had locked my doors, they banged on the windows and roof and one of the Norse waifs pressed his nose and mouth on one of the windows. As I recall the incident now, I think he looked a little like Paul Tsongas. When I finally reached my hotel, shaken but unscathed, the bar was closed. I made a mental note that Minnesota calling itself the gopher state was an insult to gophers, and went to sleep. It is difficult for me to believe the 1992 baseball season is upon us so quickly. Wasn't the nightmare in Minneapolis just yesterday? Indeed not. The 1992 Atlanta Braves, defending National League champions, are about to open their season, and many questions arise. I will attempt to answer some of them: Can the Braves repeat as National League champions? Sure. You really think so? If you really must know, I'm extremely concerned about Cincinnati. What can we expect of David Justice this season? A lot of pouting when things don't go his way. Does the team have a drug problem? Well, they were drug all over the field during spring training but you can't really go by that. Will the chop come back? Was Custer surprised at little Big Horn? Will Jane and Ted have a successful marriage? Who do I look like, Dear Abby? Let's stick to baseball. What part of the Braves do you think will be the most improved? Their bank accounts. What would you like to see out of Lonnie Smith this season? An apology. If the Braves get to the World Series and have to play the Twins again, would you go back to Minneapolis? If I can take along a typewriter technician, and my own bat. http://www.lewisgrizzard.com/

A Hoe-Down with the Cardinals in Mo-Town

In Canada, we are celebrating what we call the “May two-four weekend”.

While the two-four does reflect the Bob and Doug McKenzie Canadian Philosophy of beer drinking here in the Great White North (beer is most commonly sold in boxes of 24 best known as two-fours), in fact this is the Victoria Day weekend to celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday.

What is the best part of the May 2-4 weekend? Getting Monday off.

It’s also my cousin Ellyn’s birthday.

This year Darlene and I spent the Sunday at the Tigers game. They were playing the St. Louis Cardinals – in the third and final game of the 3 game inter-league series rematch of the 2006 World Series.

Last fall of course, the Cards beat our boys 4 games to 1. It didn’t make sense at the time, and it does not make sense today. Last year during inter-league play, the Tigers swept those Cardinals. They did it again this year.

Did I give away the ending? I don’t think so.

Going to a Tigers game for us means crossing the border by either the bridge over or tunnel under the Detroit River. No big deal, we do this all the time. Darlene does it every day.

The game starts at 1:05 PM. We drop the girls off at Grandma’s by 11:15AM. And we are in line at the tunnel at 11:30 AM.

Understand that if the border did not exist, we would be 5 minutes away from Comerica Park.

We chose the tunnel because the tunnel goes right down town and comes out underneath the Renaissance Center – the keystone of the Detroit City skyline from the Windsor side.

The Ambassador Bridge – even though we live at the Canadian end of it, forces you to use the Michigan expressways – which are mostly closed for repairs and various projects during the summer. Not a fun Sunday adventure.

But what we forgot was that the Red Wings were to play the Anaheim Mighty Ducks in the all important game 5 of the Western playoff finals. That game started at 3:00 PM at “The Joe” (Joe Louis Arena).

And in Hart Square, they were having a hoe-down.

No, really. A hoe down. In downtown Detroit. Mo-Town.

No, I don’t think it was a play on the word “Hoe” either. For the first time in my memory, the downtown plaza was packed with Stetsons and cowboy boots. Shucks.

Anyway – we got in line at the tunnel at 11:30. At 1:30 PM, we cleared customs in Detroit. It took us an hour and a half to make a 5 minute journey. Most of which we could not even listen to the radio while in the tunnel.

Luckily when we emerged, we found out our boys had taken a 1 – 0 lead.

Yee-haw.

We found great parking for a sold-out game – two blocks away for only 10 bucks.

Yee-haw.

We entered Comerica park through the center field gates. There you will find a row of bronze statues for all the Tiger greats: Ty Cobb, Hank Greenberg, Al Kaline, and Willie Horton. There are spaces for more. Spaces for guys named “Pudge”, “Kenny”, and perhaps if he decides to stay around – Gary.

Darlene had just met Willie Horton a couple of weeks before. She was really struck by the tremendous bronze tribute to this younger vision of him.

After acquiring two beers and four hotdogs – we headed to hunt down our seats.

Section 114, row 45, seats 22 and 23.

We found section 114. But it only had 43 rows? We found a park “usher?” who escorted us to the other side of section 114.

“We didn’t think you were coming” he said as he moved his newspaper and lunch for us.

Row 45 was the very back corner of section 114. Since this section wrapped around part of the pavilion, there were only two seats for Row 45. Seats 22 and 23.

“The good news is that we wont have to get up every time somebody on our row wants out” I said to Dar. But the bad news was you couldn’t see the field for the steady stream of people passing by.

Yee – haw? Nah.

Gary Sheffield, for the first time this year, played right field. Maglio Ordonez instead was the DH. Sheff was brilliant out there. He made three great sliding plays, and one basket catch. Mags had an RBI.

You know, I might could live with Mags DHing.

Justin Verlander was the starting pitcher and lasted 8 good innings.

Yee- Haw.

In the end, The Tiger’s won, sweeping the Cards. What the heck happened last October?

A True Tigers Autograph

When I was a boy, the Detroit Tigers were a very important part of my childhood.

Wherever we drove, Tiger baseball was on the radio, Ernie Harwell calling the play by play. There was no need for color commentators back then, because the announcers were talented enough to keep you interested in the game.

As you would drive out of Detroit on I-94 heading for Jackson, there was a Mobile Oil refinery that had one of its containers painted to be a baseball with the “Go Tigers” cheer painted on it.

When we would come home to Windsor to visit my Grandfather – Papa – we would often find him sitting in front of the radio – listening to the game – with every finger and toe crossed as the Tigers tried to comeback to win or close out a game.

It was magic to hear the game through the tiny speakers of the day – with the buzzes and whistles of AM radio. You could paint the whole game in your brain.

I still remember vividly sitting in old Tiger stadium with my Dad and Papa – eating hot dogs and watching my heros – Al Kaline and Willie Horton, Norm Cash, Bill Freehan and Mickey Lolich.

They won the World Series in 1968. I was 6 years old.
The next year, Neal Armstrong walked on the moon.

It has been amazing since I have been back in Windsor these last 6 years, how some of those memories come flooding back. It has been amazing also how Darlene and I have made new memories at Comerica Park – the successor to Tiger Stadium.

We still listen to the games on AM Radio. Dan Dickerson and Jim Price are almost as special to me now as Ernie was way back then.

“Maglio Ordonez – touch them all!” as the Tigers finished off the A’s with a walk-off home run to advance to the 2006 World Series.

But the other day, the most miraculous Tigers event occurred. Willie Horton signed my daughters T-ball baseball card.

While talking with my wife, she said as any proud mother would do: “Let me show you my little baseball player” and retrieved Alannah’s baseball card from her desk. He admired the card, and her stats on the back. He liked that her favorite team was the Tigers and chuckled that Brandon Inge (it really says “Brian” by mistake on the card) is her favorite player.

And then he signed it.

When Darlene showed me the card that night, I literally held it up to the sky to show my Dad, and Papa. “Look guys! Look who signed Alannah’s baseball card!”

A little bird should be by soon to get a peek for them.