Full of enigma, emotion and sentimentality of the highest order, baseball is the most beautiful game.
No other sport can match it; the history of how the game developed and grew into our nation's collective conscious. Or the memories that it elicits from a fan's childhood. Or the pastoral nature of it, and how it seems so organic, so able to be related to, to be touched.
It engages the senses, from the searing heat of an early afternoon sun on an exposed back to the smell of blue collar fare wafting from the concourse to the sound of the crack of bat against ball, the sight of 5 ounces of cork, string and white leather soaring into the late night sky and the stickiness of dried beer under your feet.
The 2009 season is almost upon us. Opening Day is an unofficial holiday in our country and for good reason. Deep down we all, I think, have an affinity for baseball, whether we know it or not.
With every new season - started in the early spring - new hopes are made, new beginnings are charted. Baseball follows the ebb and flow of our lives.
I was fortunate enough to have attended Game 4 of the 2006 American League Division Series between the Detroit Tigers and the New York Yankees. The Tigers won and eliminated the Yanks and I felt a soaring within me after the final out. I clapped so hard my hands grew blisters. I yelled so hard I swear I could have coughed blood. I kissed strangers and they kissed back.
And I cried so hard because of what this game means to me because of how it's shared, passed down from generation to generation, father to son, like some kind of precious family heirloom meant to be held close to the heart and then passed on again.
I wrote the below story when I got home. Play ball!
DETROIT – As Game 4 of the American League Division Series was about to conclude, the sun was setting over the right field grandstands, giving way to a milky moonlight that shone through the city’s skyline.
And much like the sun that set giving way to that hazy harvest moon over Detroit, the years of Tigers ineptitude and heartbreak had set. There was a feeling of re-birth in the Motor City that special Saturday night.
It’s been said that baseball is a game of moments, and Saturday’s incredible victory will surely be etched into the memories of not only those at the game, but of all those who have rooted for the Tigers for years, but never had a chance to celebrate.
It was a victory for Detroit, a city that has not had much to cheer about for decades. It was a victory for Michigan, a state that has endured so much economic woe in recent years. It was a victory for all those who believe that passion and grit still matter. It was a victory for all of us.
The Tigers beat a team with a payroll of nearly $200 million, and one that most believed was one of the most potent of all-time. The Tigers, a team with players that most outside of Michigan have never heard of, knocked-off the Bronx Bombers like they wanted it, like they stole something. Desire beat out decadence.
When the Tigers lost Game 1 of the American League Division Series in New York, 8-4, most everyone wrote them off, including nearly all of the national sports media.
The Yankees are too much, they said, their lineup a modern day Murder’s Row, capable of not only hitting the ball out of the park, but of taking away an opposing team’s will to even play the game.
Welcome to the “D.” Welcome to Michigan. Welcome to a place where we don’t lay down and whimper in the face of adversity – whether it’s a struggling economy or being down one game to none to the mighty Yankees in hallowed Yankee Stadium, where the spirits of the team’s baseball heroes of decades past loom large, picking and probing at opposing teams.
If any one moment in the game epitomized the Tigers’ perseverance and passion more, it was the post-game celebration which ensued after the final out.
Most teams who win a game like this head to the clubhouse and relish the victory with their teammates. The Tigers went in, and then came out, brandishing bottles of champagne, drenching their fans with the same stickiness that was supposed to be meant for only themselves.
But not this team. The fans deserved it. It might have been one of the most populist moves in modern sports history. The champagne spray into the stands meant that we were all in it together. All were part of the magic
Like a great symphony, the game built to a crescendo. Sure, the Tigers hit the ball around all afternoon, scoring eight runs. Starting pitcher Jeremy Bonderman was stellar, pitching 8 1/3 innings of 2-run ball.
But it took a full eight innings for the crowd to reach a point where they could believe exactly what was happening, and the sheer emotion seen after the game’s final out could have only come from fans that had been bottling it up for the past 19 years.
It was a release of explosive, unbridled emotion.
Beer was spilled and strangers hugged and kissed one another. Jovial fans streamed onto the streets surrounding Comerica Park and shook hands with Detroit cops, horns honked in a chorus of joy.
The glow of the stadium’s lights seemed a bit brighter as giddy fans, who had just witnessed a bit of history, headed out into the city to celebrate the night away.
Baseball is back, not only in Detroit, but throughout all of the Great Lakes state.
Now let’s bring on the A’s.
No other sport can match it; the history of how the game developed and grew into our nation's collective conscious. Or the memories that it elicits from a fan's childhood. Or the pastoral nature of it, and how it seems so organic, so able to be related to, to be touched.
It engages the senses, from the searing heat of an early afternoon sun on an exposed back to the smell of blue collar fare wafting from the concourse to the sound of the crack of bat against ball, the sight of 5 ounces of cork, string and white leather soaring into the late night sky and the stickiness of dried beer under your feet.
The 2009 season is almost upon us. Opening Day is an unofficial holiday in our country and for good reason. Deep down we all, I think, have an affinity for baseball, whether we know it or not.
With every new season - started in the early spring - new hopes are made, new beginnings are charted. Baseball follows the ebb and flow of our lives.
I was fortunate enough to have attended Game 4 of the 2006 American League Division Series between the Detroit Tigers and the New York Yankees. The Tigers won and eliminated the Yanks and I felt a soaring within me after the final out. I clapped so hard my hands grew blisters. I yelled so hard I swear I could have coughed blood. I kissed strangers and they kissed back.
And I cried so hard because of what this game means to me because of how it's shared, passed down from generation to generation, father to son, like some kind of precious family heirloom meant to be held close to the heart and then passed on again.
I wrote the below story when I got home. Play ball!
DETROIT – As Game 4 of the American League Division Series was about to conclude, the sun was setting over the right field grandstands, giving way to a milky moonlight that shone through the city’s skyline.
And much like the sun that set giving way to that hazy harvest moon over Detroit, the years of Tigers ineptitude and heartbreak had set. There was a feeling of re-birth in the Motor City that special Saturday night.
It’s been said that baseball is a game of moments, and Saturday’s incredible victory will surely be etched into the memories of not only those at the game, but of all those who have rooted for the Tigers for years, but never had a chance to celebrate.
It was a victory for Detroit, a city that has not had much to cheer about for decades. It was a victory for Michigan, a state that has endured so much economic woe in recent years. It was a victory for all those who believe that passion and grit still matter. It was a victory for all of us.
The Tigers beat a team with a payroll of nearly $200 million, and one that most believed was one of the most potent of all-time. The Tigers, a team with players that most outside of Michigan have never heard of, knocked-off the Bronx Bombers like they wanted it, like they stole something. Desire beat out decadence.
When the Tigers lost Game 1 of the American League Division Series in New York, 8-4, most everyone wrote them off, including nearly all of the national sports media.
The Yankees are too much, they said, their lineup a modern day Murder’s Row, capable of not only hitting the ball out of the park, but of taking away an opposing team’s will to even play the game.
Welcome to the “D.” Welcome to Michigan. Welcome to a place where we don’t lay down and whimper in the face of adversity – whether it’s a struggling economy or being down one game to none to the mighty Yankees in hallowed Yankee Stadium, where the spirits of the team’s baseball heroes of decades past loom large, picking and probing at opposing teams.
If any one moment in the game epitomized the Tigers’ perseverance and passion more, it was the post-game celebration which ensued after the final out.
Most teams who win a game like this head to the clubhouse and relish the victory with their teammates. The Tigers went in, and then came out, brandishing bottles of champagne, drenching their fans with the same stickiness that was supposed to be meant for only themselves.
But not this team. The fans deserved it. It might have been one of the most populist moves in modern sports history. The champagne spray into the stands meant that we were all in it together. All were part of the magic
Like a great symphony, the game built to a crescendo. Sure, the Tigers hit the ball around all afternoon, scoring eight runs. Starting pitcher Jeremy Bonderman was stellar, pitching 8 1/3 innings of 2-run ball.
But it took a full eight innings for the crowd to reach a point where they could believe exactly what was happening, and the sheer emotion seen after the game’s final out could have only come from fans that had been bottling it up for the past 19 years.
It was a release of explosive, unbridled emotion.
Beer was spilled and strangers hugged and kissed one another. Jovial fans streamed onto the streets surrounding Comerica Park and shook hands with Detroit cops, horns honked in a chorus of joy.
The glow of the stadium’s lights seemed a bit brighter as giddy fans, who had just witnessed a bit of history, headed out into the city to celebrate the night away.
Baseball is back, not only in Detroit, but throughout all of the Great Lakes state.
Now let’s bring on the A’s.
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