I love this game!

What do doggies do?

Ruff.

What do kitties do?

Meow.

What do cows do?

Moooo.

What do Tigers do?

Beeseball.

I was probably 2 years old, but thus began my love affair with the great American past time. Before whining and complaining became the great American past time.

The Tigers’ magical run in 2006 restored my love of the game. From the early 90’s until then, baseball to me was more like a pretty good acquaintance that you could talk all night with when they stopped by, but if you didn’t see them, you didn’t miss them.

Secretly, I was jealous of the cities like Seattle, Atlanta and Cleveland that had baseball come back from the grave in the 90’s and early 2000’s. Those were the teams I laughed at when I was a kid. Shoot, even Boston and New York didn’t do too much from 1982 until their recent dominance.

The lean Detroit baseball years perhaps gave me some perspective. I’m a homer. I love me some Kool-Aid and cornbread, but I’m a realist.

You win some. You lose some. And by the way, sometimes the other team is better than you. And even if they aren’t sometimes the other team plays just good enough to beat you in that game or that series.

That’s why you play the game.

It was brought to my attention again that baseball is a game of failure. Failing 7 out of 10 times makes you and all-star. Failing 2 out of 3 times makes you a hall of famer. So often we sit back and pick apart every play and every pitch.

“Why did he throw there?”

“Why did he swing at that?”

“He should’ve…”

“Why isn’t Verlander pitching?”

It seems we’re all armchair quarterbacks…er, armchair coaches anymore. I’ve been there. But life has enough stress in it these days for us to now want to manage and scream at a team on the television.

Up until a couple years ago, that’s how I ended a lot of my sports nights. Between the Tigers and Pistons, I had 244 days and evenings (not including playoffs) of additional stress. It would be tough to sleep.

“Why didn’t he throw there?”

“Why did he do that?”

But recently, I’ve discovered the secret to enjoying watching baseball…more specifically, playoff baseball.

Just enjoy it.

If you’re watching playoff baseball, your team is one of only 8 that made it to the playoffs. The other 24 teams are watching your team play.

Enjoy watching your team play another good team. But realize, it’s not supposed to be easy. It’s the playoffs!

As a Detroiter, enjoy the fact that your owner spends enough to have had a competitive team most of the last 5 years. Enjoy the fact that the team doesn’t do a 1 year spending spree, to have it all blow up and then trades everyone starting a 10 year famine for quality baseball.

Enjoy the fact that you aren’t a small market team who will rarely get a chance to see playoff baseball live.

Enjoy the fact that you have arguably the best pitcher and hitter in baseball playing on your team…and they are signed long term.

Enjoy watching Brandon Inge. I usually don’t, but even though he’s been awful more than awesome, he’s always giving 110%.

Even though it’s been about every 20 years, enjoy the fact that Detroit baseball has a long and storied tradition. My boys will be cheering Cabby and JV. I cheered for Gibby and Tram. My dad cheered Rocky and Kaline. His dad cheered Mickey and Hank. His dad cheered Cobb.

And with that enjoy the fact that 8 cities have never had a World Series winning team to cheer for. And we’ve been able to cheer for four!

Enjoy the old English “D”. The world famous logo, up there with the overlapped “NY”.
Enjoy the fact that your team makes New York sweat.

Thirty some years after “What do Tigers do?” I spend these evenings with my boys in the front room screaming “Go Tigers!” and throwing the baseball around. We get out our “glubs” (gloves) and the whole nine.

“Here’s the windup, and the pitch..” is a game in which Grant pats the ball much like a quarterback surveying the field for an open receiver, and then adding a Jack Morris leg kick before releasing his unhittable 19 mph fastball under my chin.
And then I charge and tackle the pitcher like any good hitter who was brushed back would do!

Man, do I enjoy this!

I love this game…Oh wait. That’s the NBA.

Maybe baseball can borrow the slogan while the NBA is locked out?