Words can’t describe how unbelievably perturbed I am with the Tigers’ latest “effort” during the first two games of a pivotal series against the Twins.
Where is the pride? Where is the heart? Where is the pitching?
No one would confuse the Tigers pitchers with other fine staffs in St Louis, New York or San Francisco. But at least the pitchers kept Detroit in the game on most nights. I’ve known all year the offense had lost a lot of its punch, so I clung to the hope that the pitchers could hold together — even if it had to be with duck tape and gum — long enough to get into the playoffs.
It doesn’t matter to me that the potential opponent is the Yankees. Anything is possible in the postseason. But nothing is possible when you can’t even freaking get into the postseason.
Saturday’s game really put me over the edge. Justin Verlander keeps his team in the game all afternoon and then loses his focus for one inning and it all unravels. Maybe Jim Leyland didn’t have confidence in his bull pen and Verlander got tired. Maybe Verlander really did feel good and the Twins are just that superior.
I don’t care. The Tigers had their best pitcher on the mound, and a slim three-game lead against their opponent, and they still couldn’t win. Hey, it’s not like the pennant is on the line or anything.
Now Detroit leads the division by just two games and I wouldn’t be surprised if the lead falls to one game when the sun sets on the weekend.
Am I giving up? Of course not. But even with a two-game lead it feels like the Tigers are fighting a losing battle like General Custar. My dreams are haunted by a whole bunch of Minnesota Twins raining down on my team with their fundamentally sound baseball, clutch hitting and late-season comeback experience.
I hate you Minnesota. I hope I never have to hear your name again once the postseason begins.
For now I’m going to get some rest, take a breather and refill my optimism cup for Sunday’s game. The Tigers have a division to win. … I hope.
This post can also be viewed at The Sports Bank.