Sunday, September 27, 2009

THE TEAM: Team Meeting

Warning: The following contains adult language, questionable taste, and humor that probably only myself and two others will find funny. Consider yourself warned.

Dave Dombrowski: Thank you for attending this meeting, gentlemen. I know this is highly unusual for a general manager to address a ballclub, but Jim and I felt this was necessary. This series with the Twins is, quite frankly, huge. Not only for myself and all of you, but for the entire city of Detroit, as well. Tomorrow, we are honoring the 25th Anniversary of the ’84 championship club and we’re sure to have a full house. I’m sure many of you are nervous, but I have the utmost confidence in each of you, despite our recent woes against the Twins. Are you all feeling well?

Brandon Inge: Yes, sir! Golly, I’ve NEVER had butterflies like THIS before! But we’re gonna go get ‘em, boss! You betcha! 110% from ALL of us.

Gerald Larid: For shizzle! G Money’s gonna light some sh-t up, Skip! Ain’t NO ONE gonna keep G Money down!

Jim Leyland: (lights cigarette) Cough, Gerald, you’rehitting .220. Worryaboutdefense. Cough, wheeze...

Laird: That’s G Money, son.

Leyland: Whatever. Justin! (lights another cigarette) Cough, JUSTIN! Youreadyforthisseries? Cough, cough...

Justin Verlander: (stares straight ahead intensely)

Leyland: JV! (deep inhale) Cough, Justin! Youreadytogo? Cough!

Verlander: (calmly begins sharpening knives staring straight ahead)

Laird: Yo, skip. Doncha go worryin’ about ‘ol JV! G Money’s got my man READY!

Inge: Gerald, why do you speak like that? You’re among your friends! Your buddies! Your teammates! There’s no need to be something you’re not.

Laird: Hey, G Money’s just keepin’ it real, white bread! Don’t go frontin’ on me.

Clete Thomas: Can y’all keep it down? Nascar’s on! If Dale Junior don’t get his head out his ass, ‘ol Clete might have to whip that sumbitch.

Leyland: Clete! Turnthatsh-toff! (starts to light cigarette)

Inge: I’ve got that, sir! (lights Leyland’s smoke)

Laird: Yo, Brandon, quit being a kiss ass. G Money don’t kiss NO ONE’s ass!

Dombrowski: Calm down, everyone. Let’s focus on the Twins. Now, I’m told that our beloved hitting coach, Lloyd McClendon, has put together one heck of a scouting report on the Twins pitchers for this series. I know we’ve had some struggles with them, especially Carl Pavano, but I’m told Lloyd has found some weaknesses we can exploit. Right, Lloyd?

Lloyd McClendon: (snoring and sleeping peacefully)

Leyland: Cough. Dammit. Someonepassthoseout.

Inge: I’ll do it, Skipper!

Laird: Punk, G Money’s gonna slap…

Dombrowski: Enough, gentlemen. (throws money at Inge and Laird) That’ll calm you down.

Leyland: Cough, cough! Whileyoulookatthatsh-t, I’vebroughtina (cough) motivationalspeakertotalktoyouguys.

Dombrowski: That’s right. This man is not only a former Tiger, but a man that competed against many players from the ’84 Tigers that we will be honoring. He knows what it takes to win. We’re hoping he can lend some insight into this series. COME IN!

[door flies open]

Gary Sheffield: What the f-ck up, muthaf-ckas? Sheff’s in the house! Where my money at, suckas? (Dombrowski hands over two sacks contining $14 million) That’s right! Sheff’s gon get MAD p-ssy with this loot. Holla. What up, JV?

Verlander: (stares straight ahead still sharpening knives)

Sheffield: Yeah. I feel ya. So, you muthaf-ckas still in last?

Inge: Actually, Gary, we’re in first. We have a slim lead on those dastardly Twins. We play them in a few hours.

Sheffield: F-ck you, Brendon! No one’s talking to yo punk ass! Sheff knows you in first! Sheff’s here to motivate yo asses! Well, not them lazy Uncle Tom Colombians over there. They still get hurt every time them punks run more than 20 feet?

Laird: What’d you say, son? G Money’s boys are from Venezuela, fool. You better check yo’self.

Sheffield: (wide eyed) Who the F-CK is this cracka ass cracka? Boy, Sheff’s gonna f-ck you up in about five f-ckin seconds if you don’t back yo ass down! Don’t come all up in Sheff’s face with that wig…

Clete: Y’all keep it down! ‘Ol Clete’s tryin’ to find the Steelers score on the picture box. Big Ben is Clete’s boy.

Sheffield: And who is THIS hillbilly f-cker? Are YOU the bitch they put in Sheff’s spot in the lineup? Are you fist f-ckin’ Sheff? Sheff can BUY and SELL each and every ONE of you punk muthaf-ckas. Don’t you be forgettin’ that sh-t. If Sheff were still on this team, you punk suckas would be 20 games up on those Canandian-ass Twins.

Inge: Minnesota, Gary.

Sheffield: Brendon! Shut the f-ck up! Sheff knows Canadians when he sees them. Now Sheff’s a free agent next year. How bout we work some sh-t out and Sheff’ll win you bitches a championship next year. $15 million per year, 5 years? Sound about right?

Dombrowski: Maybe later, Gary. Weren’t you here to lend some insight into this Twins series?

Sheffield: You sh-ttin’ me? Sheff just wanted to make sure you all vote him a share of the playoff cash. Damn. You know what, F-CK this shit! Sheff got his duckets. Sheff’s outta here. See you suckas later. (leaves)

Leyland: (lights cigarette) Dammit. Forgettit. JustlookoverLloyd’sreport. Doyourbestoutthere. Cough.

Inge: Um, Skip? These reports are blank.

Leyland: Cough, dammit, Lloyd.

[door flies open at 102 mph]

Joel Zumaya: (wasted) Woo hoo! Paaaaarty! Wussup? We win yet? F-ck yeah! Guitar Hero at Zoom’s pad! Guns, hookers, and firetrucks!

Dombrowski: Sigh. Just do your best, guys.

Leyland: Cough, Ihatethisteam…cough, cough...

Friday, September 25, 2009

Tell Me When It's Okay To Look Again

This isn't going to be easy. After a three game sweep over the IndiAAAns, the Tigers came back to earth by losing 2-0 to the White Sux today. 2-0. Really?

Poor Eddie Bonine. Bonine, quite possibly the worst starting pitcher we could have thrown out there today, pitched the MLB game of his life. He went 6.2 innings. He allowed only 2 hits and 2 unearned runs. An Inge error and a homerun by Chicago's Matt Wieters, Gordon Beckham, were the Sux's only runs. They would get no more hits in the game.

Let me say this again. The Sux beat us despite only getting 2 hits.

Eff yew, Jake Peavy.

And the Minnesota Twins continued to be the most annoying twins this side of the Olson girls, the Bush twins, and those rat bastard '87 Twins, by beating the hapless Royals once again. Tomorrow doesn't look good, either, as the Twinkies have Scott Baker going against border line MLB pitcher Lenny DiNardo of the Royals. Rogo's line: Twins by 20.

We've got two more left in Chicago this weekend. Sunday, we face a rookie named Daniel Hudson, who lost to the Twinkies in his debut, going 5 IP allowing 4 hits, 4 walks, struck out 4, and allowed 3 runs, 1 earned. He also threw 98 pitches in those 5 innings, so hopefully we can be a bit patient with the kid. My guess? He shuts us out for 7 innings, striking out 8. (Inge, 3 times.)

Tomorrow, a more familiar opponent. Freddy Garcia. Remember him? The guy that used us to audition for the rest of the league at the end of last season? Maybe that's not fair, but tomorrow, we need to beat up on him like a Steelers fan on his wife after a loss to the Bears. Here's how our guys have done against Freddy in the past.

Curtis Granderson: 24 AB, .167, 0, 0
Placido Polanco: 20 AB, .150, 0, 0
Magglio Ordonez: 40 AB, .275, 0, 3
Miguel Cabrera: 1-5, solo HR
Aubrey Huff: 21 AB, .429, 2, 4
Carlos Guillen: 27 AB, .259, 1, 3
Brandon Inge: 39 AB, .231, 2, 2
Gerald Larid: 0-5
Adam Everett: 0-4
Ryan Raburn: 0-4, 4 K's
Marcus Thames: 1-3, solo HR

That's it. No one else has faced Garcia, that I could find. Yikes. I had better start drinking early, from the looks of those non-Huff numbers. My answer: call my hero, Bobby Higginson. Limetime, he hit Garcia to a tune of .366 with 5 homers and 12 RBI's in 41 at bats. Not like he has anything better going on. Screw his limo business.

Facing Garcia for the Tigers?

Yes, Our Hero is once again faced with the task of winning a must-win game. Be the ball, Nate. Be the ball.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Things I Would Rather Do Than Watch Another Metrodome Series

Goodbye, Metrodome. After Our Hero's clutch 5 inning performance put us back up 3 games over the Twins, we are officially done visiting that wretched stadium for good. (Unless there ends up being a 1 game playoff...shuddup) So, now that we can all breathe a bit once again, here's a list of things that I would rather do than watch our boys play another series in Minnesota's dump of a dome. Enjoy.

-Compliment AJ Pierzinski.

-Buy a Fernando Rodney jersey.

-Get a really boss tattoo of my kid's name on my forearm.

-Be Joel Zumaya's designated driver.

-Join Clete's Cult.

-Take hitting lessons from Lloyd McClendon.

-Be Drew Sharp's publicist.

-Touch whatever masses they cut off of Nate's arm.

-Be a scalper at a Lions game.

-Tell Justin Verlander knock-knock jokes on days where he's the starting pitcher.

-Be in charge of moderating Bless You Boys for a month. How Ian does it without snapping, I'll never know.

-Spend 24 hours in a windowless room with Jim Leyland and a carton of Reds.

-Be the Mud Hens 1st baseman waiting for a call up to the show.

-Eat the 3.6 million Hot 'n' Ready pizzas that Mike Ilitch is going to have to sell to pay Magglio next year.

-Have my boss have the confidence in me that Jim Leyland has in Dusty Ryan.

-Attend a Jonas Brothers concert.

-Play Guitar hero with Joel Zumaya.

-Shave Alex Avila before every game.

-Be in charge of styling Ryan Field's hair for a week.

-Trade Jair Jurrjens for a broken hat rack. (oops, already did)

-Compliment Joe Crede.

-Play fantasy baseball against someone starting Luke Scott when the O's have a four game set against Detroit.

-Move to Vermont to teach spoiled and/or troubled kids. (haw)

-Give the "eat em up Tigers, eat em up" guy a sponge bath.

-Replace Rod and Mario with Joe Buck and Tim McCarver for a month. (shudders)

-Talk politics with Magglio Ordonez.

-See Bobby Jenks naked.

-Purchase all of the marked down Renteria crap still clogging up half of the Tigers Shop at Comerica.

-Go through life being made of glass (cough, Guillen/Bondo/Nate/Zoom, cough).

-Change my facial hair every three days to whatever Nate has going on.

-Compliment Ozzie Guillen.

-Listen to an iPod filled with nothing but the Good Luck Joe's greatest hits. "April...April in the D."

-Be Joel Zumaya's wingman.

Rest in peace, Metrodome. Good riddance.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

The Day In Facepalms

The worst excuse for an offense in baseball actually put together 12 hits today. However, they only scored 2 runs out of it.

Once again, Carl Pavano, worthless against the entire American League, was able to limit the damage of the Tiger bats.

This is all after being shut down yesterday 3-0, mostly by Brian Duensing, a guy that I'm pretty sure most Twins fans couldn't even pick out of a police lineup.

That one was for you, Big Al.

The 2009 Tigers team is fading fast down the stretch, much like the '06 club did. However this time, there is no Wildcard prize waiting like last time. The Twins are charging, despite losing annual MVP candidate, Justin Morneau, for the season. They've now won 6 games in a row, while we've dropped our last 3. I mean, Jesus...

And today, we fell victim to not only Joe Mauer's sideburns, Michael Cuddyer's Joe Crede impression, but once again to that abortion of a stadium called the Metrodome. We can't buy a win in that hellhole. And why was inexperienced Don Kelly put in left field late in the game? It's bad enough that JV and EJax's arms are going to fall off any day now throwing 185 pitches a game, but now Jim's overthinking things by putting Don Freakin' Kelly in left? I'd rather have Marcus out there.

Am I too hard on Jim Leyland? Is it too much to ask Magglio to hit a home run or two? For Curtis Granderson to quit being a lefty Marcus Thames? For Brandon Inge to look like he's seen a breaking ball at some point in his life at the plate? For Aubrey Huff to quit putting so much pressure on himself? For Clete Thomas not to suck so much?

Tomorrow will be the closest game the Tigers have come to it being a "must win" game this year. A sweep will take it down to a one game lead. Jackson is gassed. The offense is crap. The bullpen is ridiculous, for the most part. And our starter in this most important of games?

Nate Robertson.

I got a text from a friend of mine today saying, "I'd rather have a hundred loss season than fall apart down the stretch."

Sure, it's not over yet. But it's getting scary. And I think I agree with my friend. If the Tigers blow this, I think it'll hurt more than losing 119 games.

Nate...we're counting on you.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Aubrey Huff Renews My Faith In Humanity

Your Party Host has had a rough couple weeks. When times are tough, it's funny how sports can make things seem better or worse in your head. You have your ups (Magglio in '06) and your downs (most Rodney non-save appearances). I'd like to illustrate a perfect example of that for you.

I took a trip to Charleston, SC twelve days ago to visit a friend living down there. In my five days down south, I was electricuted by a wall outlet, got food poisoning, almost got into a fight with kids looking for trouble, and had my car break down, thus draining my bank account at the mercy of mechanics a 13 hour drive away from home. On top of that, I was badly sunburned. How bad?

Sun screen is for hippies. Anyway, while down there, I get a phone call saying that my 5 year old, in his second week of kindergarten, while showing an uncanny ability to color within the lines and say his ABC's, has already developed into the class clown and will not listen to anyone. Where he gets this, I don't know. Most troubling to this Tiger fan is that nowhere in Charleston can I get a Tiger game on a TV. When I mentioned Rod and Mario, I was informed that Luigi was Mario's brother...not Rod. Sigh.

Through watching ESPN and waiting for their daily five second (if I'm lucky) mention of the Tigers, I learned of their winning streak. I left the dark cloud of Charleston behind, eager to get home for some Tiger goodness. Sadly, the cloud followed me home to the tune of a sweep by the lowly Royals and a couple beatings by the Blue Jays of Canada...not even a real country. Meanwhile, I had to sit through boneheaded calls by Charlie Weiss and Lovie Smith (fake punt? WTF?) causing my beloved Irish and Bears to lose football games in the last minute of each of their games. Really, Charlie? Throwing on second down? I'm done defending you. You overrated, bloated pile of horse manure. And as for my diabetic savior at QB in Chicago? I already miss Rex Grossman. Basketball, you ask? I'm a Bulls fan. Michael Jordan inducted into the Hall of Fame? He acted like an ass during his speech and ruined the moment. During all of this, Nate Robertson suffered an owie to his groin. WTF am I supposed to make fun of now, I wondered? Then, Brian Urlacher is announced as being out for the season. Shoot me in the face, please.

Needless to say, my already dour mood was sunk to an all time low with the performances of my sports teams. Not even a win by the Tigers on Sunday could drag me out of my depression. Monday afternoon, my Blue Jays fan friend calls me to see if I want to drive to Comerica with him for the game. Even though my presence would surely cause Justin Verlander's arm to explode on the mound, I agreed. Why I agreed to go, I don't know. But we went.

JV started well. Ryan Raburn led off with a homer. Then, JV had a JV meltdown letting the Jays tee off on him like he was Justin Bonine instead of Verlander. The bats disappeared once again. It started to rain late and people started heading for the exits. I had cursed my team once again.

Then Aubrey Huff pinch hit for Ramon Santiago in the ninth...and the dark cloud disappeared, despite the rain. Huff lauched a towering blast into the right field seats to tie the game. I began jumping up and down like the 6'4, 250 pound 12 year old that I am. Suddenly, there was no doubt in my mind that we were going to win. Marco Scutaro made sure of that in the 10th by forgetting how to catch a ball as Brandon Inge scampered home with the winning run.

I came home and caught most of the game's replay on FSN just to hear Rod and Mario call the Huff homer. I switched to a late night Sportscenter broadcast to watch it again. To go from the lowest of the low to the highest of the high is something that only sports can do, I think. At least for me. It sounds dumb, I guess. Watching a bunch of millionaires throw a ball of some kind around a field can affect you life? Weird, but I know I'm not alone here.

Then, the icing on the cake scrolling at the bottom of the screen during Sportscenter...

"Twins 1B Justin Morneau (back) out for season."

Maybe everything's going to be all right, afterall.

Saturday, September 12, 2009


Nate Robertson, seen here with his wife (not really), had to leave today's game with a groin strain. A left abductor strain, to get technical, I guess. He went 3 2/3 innings, allowing 2 runs, 6 hits, and 5 walks.

Sigh. That's the Nate I know and love.

The Marlboro Man says it looks like Our Hero will probably miss his next start. No update on which terrible 5th starting candidate will take his place just yet.

Would it really have hurt to take at least A LOOK at Paul Byrd earlier in the year? Just asking.

4 losses in a KC and Toronto. At least the M & M boys keep losing, too.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Nate or Bondo to the Mets?

Hey, kids. Back from vacation. I was burned, electrocuted, my car broke down, I was abandoned, possibly food poisoned, and I'm now broke. It was fun. (I'm being serious.) I'm a bit tied up with work and getting things in order, but had to make a quick comment on this from the New York Post.

I'd take a bag of broken baseball bats for Nate, sure, but Luis Castillo? Is Polly not coming back a definate all of the sudden? Would we even consider giving up on Bondo after all that's happened? How long was I gone, for crissakes?

Did Scott Sizemore die?

Or is this guy completely clueless and/or nuts? I usually can smell my own kind.

Came back to a 7 game lead. Down to 5 1/2. My bad. Let's see if we can make Canadian bacon out of some Blue Jays.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Nate Is...Great?

So, a funny thing happened today as I was packing for my trip to Charleston, SC. Nate Robertson pitched his ass off.

There I am packing my new "Chick Slayer" outfit, checking my undies for holes, and making sure the dusty condoms in my room aren't expired (not yet!), and the bane of my existance throws six scoreless innings on 80 pitches. My other whipping boy, Clete of Nazareth even hit a two run triple. Curtis GranderThames hit another homer. And then the bullpen blew the lead. Doesn't feel good, does it, Nate? Luckily for us all, Placido Polanco gave us the win with a 10th inning sacrifice fly to put us 5 games up on the Loathesome Twinkies of Minnesota. What a day.

Congrats to you, Nate. It's the time of year when we need SOMEONE other than JV to step up and pitch like a champion. You're the last guy I expected it from, but much like Fox News, DesigNate Robertson is always fair and balanced. (?) Sure, it was against the IndiAAAns, but awesome job, anyway.

And as for Polonco, I really hope two things happen. First, I hope we get to see Mr. Potato Head play at least one more year in the Old English D. I think he may be the most overlooked and underrated Tiger of the past 20 years. Second, I hope that someone on ESPN learns to pronounce his name properly before he retires. Pla-SEED-o? I hate ESPN...

As for Clete? I still think he sucks. Good arm, though.

Seeya in a week...for real this time.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Notes From Tigertown

Around the web...

* Drew Sharp wrote a positive piece on the Detroit Tigers. When reached for comment, Satan screamed, "Can't you see that hell is freezing over! Leave me alone!"

* Jarrod Washburn is playing like crap possibly due to a sore knee, says Morosi. works as an excuse for Brandon. Why not Jarrod? Now all Washburn needs are really ugly forearm tattoos of his kids' names...

* Noted Tiger killer, Jim Thome, is off to Mannywood. Most are viewing this as the White Sux waving the white flag and leaving it a two team race between the Twinkies and the Tigers. I'd like to think we have this wrapped up, but Leyland's Tiger teams of September's past have seemed to gather losses like Miguel Cabrera gathers lint in his belly button. Eww.

* Roar of the Tigers continues to be the most smile-inducing Tiger blog on the web. Plus, Sam brings up a good point that I've noticed about Edwin Jackson. He hasn't been his early-season self lately. In fact, JV seems to be the only starter pitching like it's, oh I dunno, THE MOST IMPORTANT TIME OF THE YEAR? We need EJax and Washburn back on

*Jen at Old English D continues to try and goad me into a fight over the fact that I have a kid (and drinking problem) to support and can't drive to Detroit every day for baseball games when washed up, lazy-eyed, overpaid idiots make their first start of the year. Do me a favor and call her names for me. It doesn't work when I do it.

Behave yourselves, kids. I'm leaving for South Carolina for a week. If we're not up at least 5 games when I get back, I'm blaming all of you.

Take care, bitches...seeya.