Game 105: So, that happened.



Yeah. It’s no Armando Galarraga/Alex Avila slap fight though.

It’s pretty easy to sum this one up: Penny was awful, Purcey was awful, and seven runs should be more than enough to win.

I was busy getting my teeth cleaned at the dentist’s so I missed a chunk of the game, including the moment where Purcey was lifted with a 2-0 count. Amazing.

According to Oakland Press writer @matthewbmowery, clubhouse doors were closed for twenty minutes after the game ended. At first I thought maybe they were announcing David Purcey is to be fed to hungry lions at the Detroit Zoo tomorrow morning, but it seems more likely Leyland lit into them for being a bunch of lollygaggers.

Game 70: spoiler– they lose

Actually I don’t know for sure if they are going to lose this game because I’m about ten seconds from passing out, but as the score’s currently 13-5, I think it’s pretty safe to say they’re going to lose.

Porcello got clobbered.

Miguel Cabrera posed on a– single and cost the Tigers a run.

Everything about this game sucks, pretty much.

I just hope for one or all of the following, while I’m sleeping:

  • a bases clearing brawl
  • a position player pitching Looks like Marlboro Jim is going to deny me this simple request.
  • Huston Street coming in in the ninth and getting owned by Magglio. Again.

    Is that too much to ask?

    I had a long day. If my day could be quantified as shit, then this game would be the cherry on the shit cake of my day.

    Or something, I don’t know. I’ve been awake for eighteen hours and my brain has turned to mush.


    So I had this post written up before the game ended, but I didn’t post it until after the game ended. So it’s irrelevant now.

    Fuck Coors Field.

  • Game 62: RAGE REDUX!

    Leadoff triple stranded.


    Leadoff double stranded.


    Good friggin’ job, guys. You should be proud of yourselves. Tonight, they’re 0-for-7 with runners in scoring position.

    At least that extra base hit streak is still alive, amirite?

    * * *

    Oh hey, the Mariners had a runner in scoring position and he just scored. Will you look at that!

    * * *

    This feels like one of those games the Tigers of April/May would not be able to come back to win.

    I don’t think I’ve quite gotten out of that “DOOM DOOM DOOM!” mindset, and maybe for good reason, from the looks of this game.

    * * *


    If they strand him at third, they are going to die.

    * * *

    Don Kelly didn’t want to die, so he singled in Avila. Tigers take the lead, and I am astonished we are no longer losing.

    * * *


    Let’s see how many innuendo-laden comments I can make about Doug Fister now.

    Panic time, panic time, excellent, excellent.

    Except, you know, not. Because we’re only four games into the new season and there’s no need to press the panic button just yet. Sure, there’s reason for concern but it’s a long season.

    Why should we be concerned, though?


    Why shouldn’t we be concerned?

    It’s April 6th. (Also, the Playing the Right Way™ Minnesota Twins are only 2-3. So, you know. Calm yo tits.)

    In other, non-ranty news, I will be at Opening Day. Look for pictures and possibly video sometime soon.

    Also I was going to go all FJM on that TJ Simers “piece” on Marcus Thames, but my brain started hurting at the stupidity and I gave up.

    If Rachel Gibson Can Do It, I Can Too!

    I have in my possession a cache of novels by a romance author named Rachel Gibson. Her works mainly deal with a group of players for a fictional NHL team called the Seattle Chinooks. The writing is pretty terrible, as evidenced by this winning passage:

    If not for a leg cramp, Chelsea would have had sex with Mark. Right there on top of the granite island. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind about that. He hadn’t been the only one to lose his mind that afternoon in his kitchen. And just like there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she would have done him, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it would have been good.

    Real good.

    Scream at the top of her lungs, rock the gates of heaven, and beg him not to stop, good.

    Nothing But Trouble, pg. 260

    The main male characters are always rugged and manly, and have a dark past. The female characters are always perky, sexy and unable to resist the main male characters. Which I guess is the point.

    The male and female leads hook up after pages and pages of will-they/won’t-they, and vow to have no-strings-attached sex. Of course, they fall in love because the sex is just so awesome or whatever. (In one of the books, the female lead was hired to be the main male’s caretaker. I guess caretaking includes taking care of the male lead’s penis. Who knew?)

    Gibson also has this habit of namedropping real hockey players into her novels for . . . I don’t even know. A sense of verisimilitude? Usually, it comes off as completely random, like the Sidney Crosby mention she snuck into True Love and Other Disasters. It went something like Sid the Kid was 22 with a 13-year-old’s beard. The hunky male lead then called him “Cindy”. Brilliant writing there.

    To be fair, though, she’s not as bad as Danielle Steele, whose books read more like summaries or story outlines than proper novels. Ahem.

    Anyway. I got to thinking . . . I have some writing skill. What if I applied Rachel Gibson’s never-fail instabestseller formula to baseball? Who doesn’t want to read about a baseball player hooking up with a perky, adorable, sexy female character?

    But instead of merely namedropping professional baseball players, why not make them the hunky male leads? HA HA, RACHEL GIBSON. I ONEUPPED YOU THERE.

    Without further ado . . . I don’t even know what to call this.

    Rated D for D-U-M-B. Do not read if you have a history of heart problems or a tenuous grasp on your sanity. This will shatter your soul.

    Also, bad semi-porn.

    Continue reading

    This is why we can’t have nice things, Jim Leyland.

    The Tigers lost a game they should have won because Valverde threw SIXTY goddamn pitches last night. SIXTY.

    And now you can probably add both Perry and Coke to the list of relievers who won’t be available for Sunday’s game. All because Jim Leyland left Valverde in Friday’s game in hopes of his arm falling off, apparently.

    Good job, Leyland. *slow sarcastic golf clap*

    how will we cope with the long, cold, bitter, Tigers-less winter?

    So, the Tigers’ season is officially over and in spectacular fashion. They made history in becoming the only team in MLB history to not win a division they were leading by three games with four games to go in the season. They lost a heartbreaking one-game playoff. Now what?

    How will we cope during the long, cold, bitter, Tigers-less winter? Some of us will distract ourselves with the Red Wings, others the Pistons, Wolverines and Spartans. Some of us will even turn our hopeful eye to the *gasp* Lions!

    Some of us will wither and die from lack of baseball like flowers without sunshine and water.

    Just keep this in the forefront of your minds: there are roughly 130 days until the earliest voluntary reporting date.

    Sit tight.

    Tigers address their lack of hitting with … a left handed starter

    So the Tigers made an early splash by getting Jarrod Washburn from the Mariners for relatively little– just Luke French and Mauricio Robles. Good. He can bolster the rotation and slip into the third spot. He can eat some of Porcello’s innings too, I’m sure.

    But they couldn’t swing a deal for a left-handed hitter? Was every team with a left-handed bat available asking for Rick Porcello, Ryan Perry and Casey Crosby? They couldn’t even land Luke Scott, who sucks against everyone but the Tigers?

    And the MFWS finally landed Jake Peavy. No guarantee that he’ll pitch again this season though, according to Bob Nightengale’s twitter. Interesting.

    IDK, IDK. I would have liked a left-handed bat too.

    lulz at the people whining and handing the division over to the MFWS because they got Peavy, who’s injured, and we didn’t get a bat. Okay Debbie Downers, go jump off the bandwagon now.

    Oh, I forgot about this thing.

    So, a lot’s happened in Tigerland. Most of it has to do with Zumaya and his bi-monthly trips to the disabled list. The good news is that he’s hoping to get back sometime this season. The bad news is, obviously, he’s hurt. This leaves the Tigers to consider their options: do they go after an arm at the deadline? Hope Jeremy Bonderman can be that boost to the relief corps? Or pray to the baseball gods that Zumaya’s body parts stay attached at least until the end of October?

    We shall see.

    Oh yeah, I was also working on a Tigers/White Sox version of Romeo and Juliet, but I could only get through the prologue before I got bored and gave up. Alas. Maybe some other time you’ll get to see A.J. Pierzynski and Justin Verlander swordfight.