Minnesota's 3-2 win over Chicago last night, leaves the Twins just one-half game out of first place. That one half is because of a rain-out two weeks ago, which means that if the difference remains 0.5 games in either direction on Sunday night, the Tigers will have to pack up all their crap and head to U.S. Cellular Field for a make-up game on Monday. They must be super psyched for that! (Right after they sweep Tampa Bay and leave a sour taste on the feel good story of the year.)

Also, if the White Sox are the ones who are trailing on Sunday, they would have to win that make-up game—and use the best starter available, no matter who Detroit sends out there—to force a tie-breaker against the Twins on Tuesday. Of course, the entire National League may be washed into the ocean this weekend, so a Thursday or Friday start to the playoffs is not out of the question for many teams.

Or the Twins will lose tonight, the weather will cooperate on the East Coast and Jim Leyland can sleep in on Monday. Either way.

• Four tiebreaker scenarios loom [MLB.com]
• NL playoff picture complicated by makeup game, weather [USA Today]
Photo Credit: AP

Said Sheffield on Saturday of Cabrera, who supposedly held Sheffield while teammate Carmona pounded his head:

"He'll get taken care of, trust me," Sheffield said. "If you take a cheap shot at me, I'll never forget it. I won't forget it until the day I die."

Then this exchange through the press:

In Saturday's editions of the Cleveland Plain Dealer, Cleveland catcher Victor Martinez was quoted as saying, "He didn't say nothing going down to first base. If he wants to do something, then charge right there. He just walked to first base with that attitude. Who is he? Shut your mouth and keep playing the game."

When told of Martinez's remarks on Saturday, Sheffield replied, "Who am I? Tell him to check the stats. How many years he have? He's going to learn respect. Somebody will teach him respect. Trust me. ... He ain't done nothing in this game. Anybody can have a couple years. Do it for 20 years, and then come talk to me."

Who charges the mound from first base following a pickoff attempt? Only Gary Sheffield. Moral of story: Do not start brawls during seasons when you're not using the cream.

Sheffield Still Steaming [SFGate]
War Of Words Continue In Aftermath Of Sheffield Brawl [Detroit Free Press]
Sheffield Gunning for… Asdrubal Cabrera? [Waiting For Next Year]

"I've been to the depths of everything emotionally, but this is just one of those things you have to go through, too," Jones said, his eyes reddening. "You know, you're born into the big leagues and then you're born a closer and then one day you're no longer trusted with the brunt of the load in the ninth inning. My day came — what is it, July 27? — so there's no spilled milk here."

Jones stopped and referenced Leyland, who always stood behind him but couldn't do it now.

"I mean, I love that guy," Jones said, his lip quivering, his voice cracking. Finally, he turned away.

Aw. Don't you just want to give him a big squishy hug?

Tearful Jones resigned to fate with Tigers [Detroit News]

Father and son share good genes, home-run power and, according to public records, financial issues. Four years ago, The Detroit News reported about how Cecil lost $47 million in career earnings through gambling and bad business decisions. The two reportedly have been estranged since Prince accused his father of keeping $200,000 of the son's $2.4 million signing bonus without permission.

The IRS filed a $409,149 lien against Prince on Oct. 6, 2005, for unpaid income taxes. Apparently it's from 2003, the year after he collected the above-mentioned signing bonus. Shouldn't your agent mention that tax thing? Um, Scott Boras, that's you, right?

IRS Slugs Prince Fielder With Lien [Detroit News]

While a lot of people have focused on the unusually high number of times they've been shut out, hitting hasn't been their problem, although it has definitely underwhelmed. (Miguel Cabera, I'm looking your way.) It's been that daggum starting pitching. And usually starting pitching isn't the kind of baseball service that just immediately corrects itself. The hope of Joel Zumaya and Fernando Rodney's return was mildly promising, but before that has even happened, that pitching staff held the White Sox, coming off 40 runs in four games, to just six runs in three games.

(As I write this, Marcus Thames and Brandon Inge just hit back-to-back home runs while Nate Robertson is boasting a shutout through six. Admittedly, they were hit off Chan Ho Park, who I don't think has thrown a fastball for a strike since 1996.)

Keeping the optimism strong right now might be a bad idea for us Tigers fans because this win streak could all go south if they get swept by Toronto or someone goofy. But even if that happens, later on when they put together a mini-win streak, I get to write another naive post about "this could be the turnaround we're looking for." And so on, until the year 2011, when Todd Jones is still the closer.

The Baseball Prospectus folks have been warning that Willis has been waning for years, but to actually see it come to 10.32 ERA is beyond comprehension. When did it start to go wrong? We think it tracks back to December 2006 and his seemingly out-of-nowhere DUI arrest.

Police approached Willis, 24, about 4 a.m. after he stepped out of his black Bentley and urinated on the street. He was arrested the nightclub Mansion, said Bobby Hernandez, a department spokesman. Willis failed a field sobriety test, police said. He later refused a Breathalyzer test.

Was this a sign of upcoming trouble? Or just a guy needing to pee really badly? Come back, Dontrelle: We miss you already.

Marlins, Laugh Joke About Tigers Demoting Dontrelle Willis [Detroit Free Press]

Carlos Guillen of the Detroit Tigers knows this feeling and his play is suffering because of it. And manager Jim Leyland will go out of his way to stick up for his players during their times of rectal crisis:

"He can hardly move — he's got hemorrhoids so bad," Tigers manager Jim Leyland said Tuesday. "He's been playing with hemorrhoids that probably need to be lanced. He probably shouldn't have been out there (third base on Monday)."
Leyland said the hemorrhoids have been bothering Guillen for about four or five days, but they have gotten worse in the last few days. "He could hardly walk (Monday night)," Leyland said.

However, Leyland should read this report from the Long Island Colon and Rectal surgeons which states that, "Lancing the hemorrhoid and squeezing out the clot, as performed by other doctors, does not produce reliable results."

Instead, the report says that "rubber band ligation" is much more effective: "This procedure is simple and quick and is the most frequently performed to remove hemorrhoids. Using a specially designed ligator tiny elastic rings are applied to strangulate a hemorrhoid."

Mooooon River....

Guillen battling painful case of hemorrhoids [FreeP]

it's not a classic Lea Elia rant, but it's still fun to listen to Leyland pop off. "I'm a fucking man!" "Don't look at the fucking guy next to you." "Weak fuckin' shit!" "You can put that in your paper!"

God we wish every manager were like Jim Leyland. We once again would like to remind you of the best ever Jim Leyland moment.

Jim Leyland Unleashes F-Bomb Tirade [The World Of Isaac]

One would think the legions of scribblers who emptied out of the press section after a mere half dozen tallies in the top of the initial innings would know better. Surely, they had learned the lesson of Henri Cochet, and would never assume a result, regardless of score. Granted, it was the Sabbath, and Lord knows home and hearth are more important on the Day of Rest than mere sport. But those that departed should consider themselves accursed — they missed a famous rally by the Minnesotans, who pulled themselves from a six-run hole to stun gun the Motor City Tigers, 7-6.

The Lads from the 3-1-3 were like a sailor just returned from a months-long whaling voyage — eager to get started and quick to finish. The Wordy Whirlwind, Curtis Granderson, emerged from his mother's basement to rock a Leadoff Long Sock to the deepest reaches of Humphrey's Hothouse. 1-0, Stripes, while the concessionaires were still stuffing X-Ray Specs into boxes of Cracker Jack. Legally Boof Bonser was the starting moundsman for the Fraternals, and he absorbed a beating like those the Pinkertons regularly dole out to those who dare brandish the Union Label.

Knocks by Mucho Macho Magglio, Squeeze Guillen and Edgar Rent-A-Wreck ballooned the lead to four. And a day that was starting sour for the Boofy One started positively acerbic for battery mate Just-So Joe Mauer. Not since he stopped squiring beauty queens around the Twin Cities has Joe been so un-Mauer like in his flailings. First, he failed to stop a Boofball before it reached the backstop, despite the fact that The Pudgy Pinko had swung and missed. Cagily, Ivan had found a way to reach first, despite showing Napoleon-invades Russia-like judgment in the batting box. Squeeze scored the game's fifth tally on the play as well. Then Mr. Perfect compounded his error by trying to nail the Commie Catcher as he tried to pilfer the Middle Sack. The throw sailed high, wide, and Gable-handsome, and another tally ticked on the big board.

Just when it seemed this Land of Ten Thousand Lakes didn't have enough water to extinguish the flaming Cats, Legally Boof managed to jujitsu the overconfident Granderson, who swung like Atlas but missed like the weakling with sand kicked in his face. Still, the Rivetheads were on a pace to score 54 runs in the game. And with Kenny "Fold 'Em, Already" Rogers assuming twirling duties for the Olde English, the half-dozen should have been safe as houses.

But the Sons of the North Star don't believe in phrases like "should have" when it comes to base ball. They prefer phrases like "it's not over until we're naked." Indeed, appearances to the contrary, only the cartoons had unspun from the projector — the feature presentation was still to come (also, the newsreels, but we all know those can't be trusted).

Justin "Loonie" Morneau's shrieker plated a tally in the fourth innings, a seemingly innocuous development at the time, but one that would have a spiraling effect similar to the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand. Nick "Runto" Punto smeared a slopball for two sacks in the following innings, bringing a pair of Siamese all the way around. Pope Bonser apparently had brainwashed his way to forgetting the debacle out of the starting gate, and was firmly in command. Somehow, that Half-Dozen from Hades hadn't etched the result in adamantine — halfway through the voyage, neither squad's landfall was guaranteed.

Things were calm until the Stretch Innings, when a display of infield fallibility poached the Stripes. The Coward of Camera County acquired a pair of speedy outs, but grooved a "fastball" to Matt "Rebel Yell" Tolbert, who whistled one for two bags. Then came the contest's hinge action. Runto dribbled one down to the Left Base, where "Squeeze" Guillen has relocated. 'Los is still finding his way around the neighborhood, and on this play, he wandered down a dead end street. His throw would have been competent enough had he been wielding a pipe bomb, but for horsehide, it was woefully inaccurate. Whereas E6 was seldom applied to his name during Squeeze's shortstopping days, this wild one was already E#6 on this nascent campaign.

These opportunistic Twinks rushed into the opening like Sooners. Zombie Zach Miner replaced The Roaster, who retired to a chicken dinner in the clubhouse. A brace of safeties later, the scoreboard read 6-5, and Miner left his team with Major difficulty. Bobby "Sydney" Seay replaced the Z, to be greeted by the Gibraltor-like physique of the All-American Swing himself, Just-So Joe Mauer. As usual, the grandstands were packed with local idolators of the St. Paul Saint. They had sat sullen as their Hero suffered in the game's early stages, but now they cheered with a full-throated roar that reached Krakatoan decibels. And, as any good protagonist does, JSJ delivered when spotlit. A stroke of genius right up the box was good for the tying and go-ahead tallies, and, with Tunney-like improbability, the Twin City Paladins had erased the elephantine deficit and emerged on top.

There was still work to do, and the firm of Guerrier and Nathan was up to it. "A Touch Of Sleep" Nathan ran into a spot of ill in the ultimate innings, once again thanks to the derring-do of Mr. Blogspot. He legged out a 75-footer, and applied some larceny to the Middle Bag. A safety from the Acquisition would have tied the contest, but unlike Mauer, El Grande Posterior failed to deliver decisively. Joe winged a trio of Whamm-O's past the helplessly befuddled Cabrera, and the Twins had managed an unlikely Brooming of Panthera Tigris.

Afterward, wearing nothing but his soup-strainer, Hard Pack Leyland bristled, in language unsuitable for the softer sex. "There will be changes tomorrow," he promised with Kaiser-like intensity. If those words don't send a shiver down the collective backbone of the Motown Nine, they are as devoid of humanity and emotion as they have seemed on the pitch of late.

Daisuke-K (5-0) surrendered eight of Boston's 10 walks, but Mike Lowell (!), Kevin Youkilis and David Ortiz all hit homers for the Stockings, who won their fourth straight. From AP: "Matsuzaka had coldlike symptoms throughout the day and didn't feel good." Awww ... get out there and pitch, mama's boy. But I kid Dice-K, who lasted five innings, with Dancin' Jonathan Papelbon pitching the ninth for his 10th save in 10 chances. By the way, thanks for the photo, Sox and Dawgs. Also, Sheffield batting sixth? And playing left? Is this permanent, Mr. Leyland?

• Rock On. Which Santana is better? The Angels' Ervin (6-0) or the Mets' Johan ($137.5 million through 2013)? Discuss. Quiz: Which one was born in Venezuela, and which was born in the Dominican?

• While On The Subject Of The Mets ... Matt Kemp — he's the NL Player of the Week, you know — had a home run to lead off the game as the Dodgers beat Oliver Perez and the Mets, 5-1. That's nine wins in 10 games for Torre's squad.

• In Case Of Fire, Use Stairs. Well, that didn't improve Ozzie Guillen's mood any. Matt Stairs' home run was the only meaningful offense in Toronto's 1-0 win over the White Sox, which featured a great pitching duel between Dustin McGowan and Javier Vazquez. Toronto closer B.J. Ryan walked the bases loaded in the ninth, but Pablo Ozuna grounded into a 1-2-3 double play to end the game.

• Go To Bed Old Man! One day after being mocked by this writer as being old enough to have fought the Nazis alongside Indiana Jones, Jamie Moyer threw my words back into my face, outpitching Arizona's Max Scherzer in an 11-4 Phillies victory. Moyer, making the 558th start of his career, went seven innings. Although with 11 runs, I could have lasted five. Moyer also doubled.

• Eric The Half-A-Bee. Larry Brown Sports makes the case against the Brewers sticking with Eric Gagne as their closer. Making the case for Gagne will be the actual Larry Brown.

Could it get any better in Detroit, you ask? The answer of course is yes. This year Detroit will become the first city to have its symphony orchestra directed by a robot. What's next, Wayne State in the Rose Bowl?

Drink it in, Detroitniks. Miguel Cabrera homered, tripled and drove in three runs, Nate Robertson earned the win (!) and Magglio Ordonez had three hits — including a two-run double — as the Tigers won their eighth of the past 10. Things are going so well for them that they're almost to .500. Popular Tigers blog Bless You Boys not only ran a Popeye photo this morning, but one of their commenters dubbed relief pitcher Francisco Cruceta — who made his Tigers' debut on Thursday — as "The Caped Cruceta." Hey, isn't Popeye the ultimate abuser of performance enhancers? Who cares? They're dancing in Grosse Pointe! Yipee!

• Nationals 3, Pirates 2. Meanwhile, not to be outdone, Pittsburgh on Thursday was named the nation's sootiest city.

• Indians Pull Their Pronk. Jolted by the news that DH Travis "Pronk" Hafner was pulled from the starting lineup (it was just a little 7-for-51 slump! Come on!), the Indians charged out and beat the Mariners 3-2 in 11 innings. Asdrubal Cabrera broke an 0-for-14 slump of his own with a two-out, bases-loaded single to win it.

• Braun On The Fourth Of July. Look, I have no idea of Ryan Braun is going to do anything noteworthy on July 4th, so I'm using the headline now. Braun's bases-loaded, two-run double off of Kerry Wood gave the Brewers a 4-3 win over the Cubs. Carlos Zambrano pitched well and had his 13th career homer; tying Ferguson Jenkins for the Cubs' career lead for pitchers.

• Rally Monkey Takes The Day Off. Quite a day for the Athletics' Jack Cust. His error in the second inning led to five unearned runs, and he also went 4-for-4 with two walks and a go-ahead homer in Oakland's 15-8 win over the Angels.

• Goodbye Matt. Matt Morris, late of the Pirates but known more for his days with the Cardinals, has retired.

Nobody seems to understand what's going on with the Tigers, least of which their manager, who is surely sucking down Winstons at four times his usual rate. Not only are the Tigers losing, they're getting shut out, and their pitchers are dropping and, man, everything's falling apart. Some are already writing the eulogies.

We don't think it's time to write off the Tigers just yet, but we do feel bad that it has to happen to that fanbase. Those guys are on the good side of the force. If a preseason favorite was going to collapse .... the Tigers would have to be considered the most tragic. But it's early.

Tigers blog Bless You Boys has the most alarming comparison; the season so far has been like watching Tigers pitchers field in the 2006 World Series. Poor guys.

Mack Avenue Tigers: "WHAT THE SAM HELL IS GOING ON??! Will this nightmare ever end?" Bless You Boys: "Maybe Kenny Rogers has that grandfatherly effect on his teammates, like how your eyelids might get heavy when your grandpa tells you the story of how he came to choose the particular pickled bologna he just sliced for you." And, thanks to TigerBlog we learn that only two teams have started 0-6 and made the playoffs: The 1974 Pirates and the 1995 Reds. So there's that.

But a losing streak like this is always hardest on the local radio guys. On Monday, Kevin Matthews of WLAV-FM thought that it would be cute to say that he would stay on the air until the Tigers win a game. "When is daddy coming home, mommy? Do we still have a daddy?" Then there's Terry Foster of the Detroit News, who put things into perspective like this "Have you ever seen a dad wave good bye to his children in the morning? That's the way the Tigers looked at the plate during Tuesday afternoon's 5-0 smothering to the Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park."

No, the Tigers can't even win a game in which Bill Buckner throws out the first pitch. Can this team approach the awfulness of the 119-game-losing, 2003 Tigers? Probably not. But until they win at least one, let's not rule it out. Rogers went 4 2/3 innings and gave up two earned runs, which isn't terrible. But Detroit is hitting only .235 as a team and has been outscored, 44-15, so giving up anything is deadly. Kevin Youkilis had three hits and two RBI for the Red Sox, and Daisuke Matsuzaka (2-0) allowed four hits over 6 2/3 innings with seven strikeouts and four walks to get the win. Chins up, Tiger fans! Nowhere to go but up!

• Davis Beats Dodgers, Will Do Likewise To Cancer On Friday. Two days before he's scheduled to undergo surgery for thyroid cancer, Doug Davis turned in an emotional, effective pitching performance for the Diamondbacks at Chase Field, leading a 10-5 win over the Dodgers. The left-hander, diagnosed with the disease late in spring training, allowed two runs over six innings, struck out seven and even had two hits and an RBI, getting his first win of the season. Arizona has won five straight. He'll take on cancer on only two days' rest, but could be back in the lineup in as few as six weeks (Note to Davis: Cancer can't hit the curve). He was staked to a 3-0 lead in the first on Mark Reynolds' fifth homer of the season, which went 428 feet.

• A Mighty Wind. Alex Rodriguez struck out four times, and Wilson Betemit — replacing the injured Derek Jeter — fanned three times as the Royals won their home opener, 5-2, over the Yankees. The Royals stole five bases off Jorge Posada, who was pulled in the sixth inning and will undergo tests for "a dead arm." Mark Teahen had two doubles and an RBI for KC (5-2).

• Orioles Are Huffin' It. Aubrey Huff continued his love affair wit the citizens of Baltimore with four hits and four RBI, as the Orioles won their sixth straight, 8-1 over the home-opening Rangers.

• The Glaus Menagerie. Anthony Reyes, he of the 2-14 record and 6.04 ERA last season, pitched three scoreless innings of relief, giving up only one hit, as the Cardinals beat the Astros 5-3. Troy Glaus had a two-run double in the eighth for the rampaging Cardinals (6-2).

And if I keep saying that, perhaps it'll be true. Dontrelle Willis had five innings of no-hit baseball, although seven walks were included in there. Once the sixth inning arrived, the White Sox finally began to hit the baseball with bats issued to them in the dugout, piling on four runs en route to a 5-3 victory.

...And The Horse You Rode In On. Kosuke Fukudome, through five games, has been a pretty solid foreign investment. He and Derrek Lee roughed up Roy Oswalt, and used his lunch money to buy candy from the vending machine. Lee went 4-for-4 with a 2-run home run, and Fukudome went 2-for-4 (he's batting .500, how Zen of him) with a pair of runs driven in. Kerry Wood earned his second save, and he seems rather healthy this time. For once the swinging axe missed him completely on his way back to the locker room.

Andy Capped. The long-awaited — I'm sure at least someone was looking forward to it — return for Andy Pettitte to Yankee Stadium failed to provide quality pitching. He allowed five runs in five innings, including a three-run homer courtesy of Jonny Gomes, as the Rays won 6-3, taking the first two games of this four-game showdown. Gomes had 4 RBIs in all, while Edwin Jackson pitched six innings, allowing one measly run, which was produced by Alex Rodriguez, of course. Proving baseball players are no different from the rest of us, in that we all go down there to retire and die, Troy Percival closed out his first game in almost two years for Tampa.

Pet Peavy. You might have trouble picking Jake Peavy out of a lineup, provided he was standing in a row with pitching machines loaded with nothing but knives and napalm. Peavy was practically perfect, lasting the entire game and allowing just one run, two hits and a walk, striking out eight in a 4-1 Padres victory over the Dodgers.

What Is This, Soccer? That improved pitching we've heard so much about down in Texas showed itself, allowing just two runs to the Los Angeles Angels of Neighboring City. (Good.) Unfortunately, the Rangers themselves only got one run against Jeff Weaver. (Bad, bad, BAD. Feel bad all night and flog yourself bad.) The Angels held on to win 2-1 thanks to Weaver's seven scoreless innings. Kevin Millwood pitched a complete game in the loss.

Billy Crystal, DNP. The guy who struck out Billy Crystal fared poorly against the Marlins, who granted are pretty close to the athletic talent of fading Jewish comic legends, but slightly better. Paul Maholm struck out nine but allowed five runs in five innings, including a grand slam to Mike Jacobs. The Marlins ended up winning 7-3.

You can find a couple more here and here.

We have discovered the secret of Detroit's struggling bullpen. Dammit, guys, this is not considered rehab!

Joel Zumaya Puts His Life In Rock's Hands [Deadspin]

1. Detroit Tigers. We know the pitching is a bit of a mess, but man, we really just can't get past that lineup.
2. Cleveland Indians. It's amazing how they became the hot World Series pick right after Gammons started touting them.
3. Kansas City Royals. We always, ALWAYS overrate the Royals. This happens every year. We don't
4. Chicago White Sox. How old do you think Jose Contreras really is? We're going with 44.
5. Minnesota Twins. Remember when Joe Mauer was the next face of baseball?

That's it, we're done, predictions as always, awful.

Turns out, it seems some of the scoreboard video operators have been filming "soft core videos" of fans and showing them around the office.

Tigers photographers routinely shot inappropriate "soft core videos" of female fans at baseball games, a sexual harassment suit by Comerica Park's former scoreboard operator claims.



The videos were "freely and openly shown in the scoreboard area to all employees and supervisors on almost a regular basis," and are stored in a room behind the scoreboard, Reanen Maxwell of Beverly Hills says in her Wayne Circuit Court lawsuit, which was filed Feb. 22.

The Tigers are denying the allegations, but we're not sure what exactly is going on in the stands of Comerica that could make this even a possibility. We thought that was reserved for the old RFK Stadium.

Comerica Scoreboard Operator Files Sexual Harassment Suit [Detroit News]
Must Be Sittin' In The Front Row [Deadspin]

Ben Mathis-Lilley is an editor at New York magazine. His words are after the jump.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—--

In my mind, last year's parallel-universe Tigers season did not end with a fade into September irrelevance. Parallel Universe Gary Sheffield and Kenny Rogers didn't get hurt, while Parallel Jeremy Bonderman mastered his early-inning control problems and nagging elbow injury. Parallel rookie call-ups Andrew Miller and Cameron Maybin excelled, Parallel Brandon Inge's August wasn't one continuous strikeout, and Parallel Universe Curtis Granderson outdid his real-universe's 20/20/20/20 season (HR, 2B, 3B, and SB) with a 40/40/40/40/40 effort (that last 40, unfortunately, is for DUIs. For some reason, Parallel Granderson is a real a-hole.).

The Tigers weren't quite good enough last year in the here and now; fortunately, the offseason couldn't have been better no matter which universe it occurred in. Things did look grim, at least through my Baseball Prospectus-colored glasses, when trades for Jacques Jones and Edgar Renteria had the team heading toward a Giants-like squad of seasoned veterans savvily winning 75 games. (Just imagine if the Giants make the playoffs sometime. So much post-season experience! Some of it dating back to the 1930s! Joe Morgan will lose his goddamn mind!) The pursuit of Alex Rodriguez, in which the team was commonly referred to as a "dark horse suitor," went nowhere, probably because "dark horse suitor" sounds like a euphemism for "marauding rapist."

But then, lo, the Chosen Dombrowski delivered unto us Miguel Cabrera — a 25-year-old, saner version of Alex Rodriguez — along with a free bonus portion of Dontrelle Willis. In the glorious light of THAT deal, I even embraced the savvy seasoning Jones and Renteria would bring to the team. The only winter downer occurred when Joel Zumaya, the man famous for a Guitar Hero finger injury, hurt his shoulder moving storage boxes out of a family home in the path of a wildfire.

Despite that disappointment, Tiger fans' expectations are high right now. Tickets went on sale last Saturday, and I heard there were lines around the block at Comerica Park for at least five hours after the box office opened. And you know what that kind of popularity means: It's only a matter of time before all the longtime fans start getting priced out by bankers. Detroit being what it is, there aren't any indigenous bankers to do the job; they'll have to be shipped in from out of state, which means this could actually trigger the long-hoped-for Michigan economic revival. I suppose that would be a positive on the whole; in any case, though, the window is closing on seeing the team at a reasonable price.

So get in while the gettin' hasn't been "arbitraged"! The time is obviously now for this team anyway. The only things people are really worried about are the bullpen and the possibility that pre-season hubris tempts the gods to inflict a horrible catastrophic punishment. (And I guess Pudge Rodriguez's decline. But I gave up on that guy three years ago when he bailed on the season to spend time on his huge boat, and then selfishly failed to spend that time apprehending Somali pirates. To those whom much is given, much is required, Pudge.) As far as the bullpen goes, whatever. Being able to be critically discuss the weaknesses of your favorite teams is important. It lends a needed element of rationality to the act of rooting for strangers. So if that is the only weakness we have to discuss, I am all about spending July and August writing 2,000-word e-mails about Yorman Bazardo's BABIP. And on the matter of tempting fate.... I regret to say I'm NOT doing my part; in fact, I'm thinking of getting a Tigers Old English 'D' tattoo. Now, you might say, well, what if the Tigers go on another 20-year ass-sucking binge? To which I say, did I attend multiple Tigers games during a season when Randall Simon was named team MVP? I did.

So I can't see any way I won't continue to like the Tigers indefinitely except a scenario involving the following things: flying railroad spike, brain damage, altered personality, appearance in Oliver Sacks New Yorker story. Anyways, I'm either getting an Old English 'D' or a rendering of Nalfgar, the mythical Viking ship made from the fingernails of the dead. So isn't a 'D' the prudent choice here?

In summary, there is no way the Tigers won't sweep the World Series this year. But there is one bad thing that will certainly happen: Zumaya will hurt himself. So let's end with a poll: what's it going to be this time?

Gawker Media polls require Javascript; if you're viewing this in an RSS reader, click through to view in your Javascript-enabled web browser.

Readers, let your voice be heard!

At first glance, it appears to make the Tigers' lineup terrifying, and for a year or so, that would seem to be the case. But the Marlins have an excellent track record in this business; it wouldn't surprise us in the least to see that collection of Florida cheap youngsters do one of their patented annoying wild-card runs to the World Series in a couple of years.

More to the point: Jeez, when did the Tigers become the Yankees? It's yet another day that Alan Trammell spends in his basement, staring at the wall, flicking his lamp on ... and off ... and on ... and off ...

Crashburn Crapshoot [Crashburn Alley]

On Thursday Sheffield took some more swings at the Yankees manager, comparing him to Jim Leyland, and possibly Mussolini. Let's look in on the fun: "(Leyland is) real. That's all there is to it. You get it both ways — the positive and the negative — and he's real about both sides. I don't have to clear up nothing. I meant what I said, said what I meant — and I stand by it. Like I said before, you can do whatever you want with my words, I don't really care. If I lose friends, so what. I don't need friends. I've got plenty of friends. I don't really take myself too seriously. Whatever comes my way I just react." Torre responded: "It's all going to go back to the comments. I don't want to go there." Asked if he might talk to Sheffield if he had a chance, Torre said: "Probably not." Sheffield was 0-3 with two walks on Thursday as Carlos Guillen did all of the heavy lifting in the Tigers' 8-5 win over New York. Guillen's grand slam in the first, off of Mike Mussina, set the tone, and Ivan Rodriguez also homered as the Yankees took their third straight loss after winning nine of 10.

• The Hunt For Red October. Let's get this party started, uh huh ... The Cardinals are just 2 1/2 games back in the Central after beating the first-place Brewers 8-0 on Thursday, and to prove that they are truly in contention, Yadier Molina is now a power hitter. Molina's two home runs (!!) led St. Louis, which swept the three-game series, outscoring Milwaukee 28-7. (Chicago, which beat the Reds 12-4, is a half-game out). Adam Wainwright allowed two hits over seven innings.

• Raising Arizona. Don't look now, but the Diamondbacks have won eight straight series; including 19 of their past 24 games after a 6-1 win over Florida. They're now three games up on the second-place Padres in the West.

• The Thrillies. OK, if you don't beat the Nationals when your ace is pitching, you need to pack it in. But the Phillies don't need to pack; Cole Hamels got his 14th win in a 4-2 triumph. And so Philadelphia ascends into second place in the East, a half-game ahead of Atlanta (9-3 loss to the Giants) and three behind Mr. Met (10-7 loss to the Pirates)

• Los Angeles 4, Toronto 3. What? The Angels won at Rogers Centre? Must be some sort of paperwork mixup.

Grilli has his "official" MySpace page, which he uses to ... well, we're not sure what he uses it for. But the other day, he received the following email: "YOU ABSOLUTELY SUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We'll see you in Toledo soon......enjoy the bus ride, pal!"

This is a little rude, but, considering Grilli is is having a horrible season — he has given up runs in his last five appearances — perhaps understandable. But Grilli didn't handle it well, sending out the following MySpace "bulletin."

Buy this guy a beer for me and dump it straight over his head. tell him it was from the CHEESEMAN! HAHA. Help play a game with me fans! Need your assistance! HAHA

As I said, I dont get mad, I get even. I thought it would be a nice gesture to bombard this guys email account with some nice letters from you all, THE TRUE FANS! I think hearing from you guys would be much better than coming from me. I will have the last laugh on this one. Put a bat in his hand and see if he can hit 95mph! Thanks to you all who will have fun on this one with me. Hey Mike, hope you enjoy keeping up with your email.

The Cheeseman!

And then he lists the poor guy's email address. Well, we'd say "poor guy" if, you know, Jason Grilli had any fans. We imagine the emailer seeing Grilli's message and then clicking "Send/Receive" all day, receiving only some expense reports and emails from pals saying, "Heard from anybody yet? No. Man. Beware the Cheeseman."

Official Jason Grilli Page [MySpace]

Granderson's lunging grab in the eighth kept it tied, and Magglio Ordonez hit a three-run homer in the 10th as Detroit moved one game ahead of Cleveland with a 6-2 win. Tigers' manager Jim Leyland, of course, was elated: "Don't get excited. It's only August 14," then he stubbed out his cigarette on a reporter's open notebook, which I think we can all agree was just unnecessary. Your Fernando Rodney update: Gave up a leadoff double in the ninth, then struck out the side. F-Rod!

• Oops. Perhaps mourning their fallen NBA brethren from the Seattle Center, the Mariners fell at the hands of pitcher Matt Garza (!) in an 11-3 loss to the Twins. Jason Bartlett (!!) homered in the fifth as Seattle fell to 66-51, still a percentage point ahead of the Yankees (67-52) in the wild card race.

• Objects In Mirror May Be ... Holy Crap ... After 19 hits and a 12-4 win over the Brewers on Tuesday, the Cardinals pulled to within 4 1/2 of first-place Milwaukee, and three of the second-place Cubs (6-5 losers to the Reds). Dare we dream? (Ed. Note: No. Shhhh.)

• Astros 7, Dodgers 4. LA's Mark Sweeney, who had singled, was leading off the base with one out in the ninth when Juan Pierre hit a popup to catcher Brad Ausmus in foul territory. Sweeney naturally ran to second while the ball was in the air, resulting in the seldom-seen-in-the-wild game-ending 2-3 double play. Thanks folks, please drive safely.

He's not with the team right now because he accidentally washed his passport and visas; he's stuck in Venezuela.

Braves GM John Schuerholz said Ledezma's passport was damaged and his visa, which had been attached to the passport, was lost. As a result, the left-hander had to reapply for both documents and is not expected to return to Atlanta until the middle of next week. "It's unfortunate, but it will be dealt with," Schuerholz said. "He's trying to get it expedited as quickly as possible."

Fortunately, nothing bad ever happens when baseball players are in Venezuela, so this should work out right well.

Ledezma Stuck In Venezuela Due To "Washing Incident" [Lion In Oil]

Because that's exactly what Sheff did, popping his 12th grand slam of his career and 22nd homer on the season, as the Tigers beat the Mariners 6-3 in Seattle. Take note, kids: a real professional always leaves his inane comments off-the-field.

• I'm Confused. Diamondbacks beat the Padres 8-3 on Friday night, improving to 10-1 all-time against Maddux. How does that make any sense? Hasn't Maddux won like, a lot of games or something?

• Singing Winds, Crying Second-Half Beast. Johan Santana throws seven scoreless innings to lead the Twins over the A's, 5-3. Get this: Santanta is now 41-4 with 427 strikeouts in games played after the All-Star break since '03. Try and digest that shit, man. 41-4!

• Mama, There Ain't No Denyin'. Scott Kazmir strikes out seven; Rays blind Clemens and the Yankees, 6-4.

• No Hits For You! If there's one thing we know about baseball it's this: Seagulls can spot a no-hitter a mile away. The birds began congregating in the Comerica Park outfield around the third inning on Tuesday, and were certainly unmolested by any Milwaukee Brewer hits. There were just two fly balls after the first inning, in fact, during Justin Verlander's no-hitter in a 4-0 win for Detroit. And as we learn from the blog No Mas (via SportsbyBrooks), it was on June 12, 1880, that John Lee Richmond of the Worcester Ruby Legs, facing the Cleveland Blues, pitched the first perfect game in professional baseball history. Exactly 127 years later, Verlander throws the Tigers' first no-hitter since 1984. And while it's possible that Richmond received a victory hug similar to Verlander's, above, we're also quite certain that when Verlander reached down, he grabbed considerably less bustle. Verlander is the fifth pitcher in franchise history to throw a no-hitter — the first since Jack Morris in 1984, and first at home since Virgil Trucks in 1952, as if you forgot. "The most special moment of my life; being out there, having the fans support me," Verlander said. "Unbelievable." He had 12 strikeouts. And, hmm, is that a tattoo up there on the right shoulder? Let's go, sleuths!

• Good News For Your Fantasy Team. What? Oh, Sorry. Your first nine-game winner in the NL? Cole Hamels, folks. Chase Utley's four RBI helped the Phillies beat the White Sox 7-3, as Hamels improved to 9-2. Utley was 3-for-3 with a two-run homer as Philadelphia moved three games above .500 (34-31) with their sixth win in eight games.

• Getting Even. Never have so many pitches sunk so many times. In the end Chien-Ming Wang outdueled Brandon Webb as the Yankees beat the Diamondbacks 4-1. It was New York's seventh straight win and brought their record to 31-all.

• Doh! Doh! Doh! It was that kind of a night for John Maine. Wilson Betemit, Matt Kemp, and winning pitcher Hong Chih Kuo homered on three consecutive pitches as the Dodgers beat the Mets 4-1. It was New York's eighth loss in nine games.

• Let It Reign. Our continuing Seattle Mariners coverage now takes you to Wrigley Field, where Willie Bloomquist singled in the go-ahead run with two out in the 13th in Seattle's 5-3 win over the Cubs. It was the Mariners' fifth straihgt win; all coming on their final at-bat.

• On teammate Shawn Green missing a game with the Dodgers because of Yom Kippur during a crucial pennant stretch: "Religion is an important thing as long as you worship the right God."

• On the '04 Red Sox: "They're a walking disaster. They act like they're tough, how they care so much about winning, but it's all a front. They're just a bunch of characters."

• On carrying a gun (he also took one to school in eighth and ninth grade): "It ain't changed because I got in the league. It just made me get more of them."

Don't ever change, Gary: Don't you change.

Best Of Gary Sheffield [100 Percent Injury Rate]
Who's Your Black Tiger? [The Dugout]
Gary Sheffield, Unlike You Latin Pushovers, Will Not Be Controlled [Deadspin]

He's appealed his suspension, and says if it's upheld, he'll rip the lid off a conspiracy in baseball and their devil sandwich made of lies and hubris.

Sheffield suggested to the Detroit Free Press that he would expose a "conspiracy" within the game if he is not cleared of wrongdoing."

"Once they see the tape, and they still suspend me, then we're going to talk about this conspiracy that's going on," he said. "If it ain't no conspiracy, then I shouldn't be suspended at all."

Well, here's hoping that suspension is upheld. I'm rather curious about what Mr. Sheffield has to say. Besides, he could use the extra time to counsel Elijah Dukes.

Sheffield, Bard appeal three-game suspensions [SI.com]

Because there's little more amusing than a crazed fan unleashed on YouTube, we introduce you to "Kitney2Furrey," a Tigers booster who has been posting pretty much every day during the season. We are so glad we didn't watch the World Series with this guy last year. Not only would we have been blinded by his rapier wit, but he also would have stabbed us.

Tigers, They Pooped On Our Windshield [The Tao Of Stieb]

That is to say: They love wrestling, Guitar Hero and being on the TV.

Detroit Tigers Curtis Granderson and Joel Zumaya were giddy when they got to their ringside seats at Sunday's WrestleMania 23 at Ford Field in downtown Detroit. "Pay for the pay-per-view," Zumaya yelled in his cell phone to his mother. "We're going to be on TV!"

Sure, they were amped about their last practice before Opening Day — Granderson says it went extremely well — but they were more juiced about how they'd be able to see the Undertaker, their favorite wrestler. "He's crazy like I am," Zumaya said of the Undertaker. "No, actually, I'm crazy like he is."

The fact that Joel Zumaya excitedly calls his mother and tells her to buy Wrestlemania on PPV so she can see him in the crowd makes it rather impossible for us not to like him.

Tigers Swap Grand Slams For Body Slames [Detroit Free Press]

Everyone says it's the toughest division in baseball, but we think it's just the mostly hotly contested: You could pretty much interchange any of those top four teams and not sounds like a fool. But those Royals ...

Here's last year's predictions. And here's this year's:

1. Chicago White Sox. If this doesn't happen, and the ChiSox end up on the other end of this spectrum, Mr. Ozzie could be in trouble, and that would be a sad day.
2. Detroit Tigers. It's so cute when Gary Sheffield pretends to play nice for a little while.
3. Cleveland Indians. We will no longer believe in this team, which is probably why they'll win it all this year.
4. Minnesota Twins. Yep, that really is Sidney Ponson.
5. Kansas City Royals. As much as we'd love to believe ...

All right, whaddya got? We suspect you think we have the Twins too low, and you're probably right.

Well, we're less than a month away from the start of baseball — spring training is here! — so it's time to do the same thing in the baseball world. Every weekday until the start of the season, a different writer will preview his/her team. We asked a gaggle of writers, from the Web, from print, from books, to tell us, in as many or as little words as they need, Where Their Team Stands. This is not meant to be factual, or dispassionate, or even logical: We just asked them to riff on why they love their team so much, or what their team means to them, or whatever.

Today: The Detroit Tigers. Your author is Ben Mathis-Lilley.

Ben Mathis-Lilley is an editor at New York Magazine. He was raised in Midland, Michigan, which as of next month will be the home of a Dodgers Single-A affiliate. He welcomes contact from any publication interested in a feature story about a city slicker who returns to his hometown after a long absence to spend a long weekend watching baseball, catching up with old flames and learning valuable life lessons. His words are after the jump.

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These days, there is no way to be a well-informed fan of most teams and get through the spring without having a cold bucket of calculus-based pessimism poured on your baseball fever. The rise of sabermetrics allows you to know with 98.7 percent certainty in February the number of times Todd Jones will ruin your day in September.

There are a few ways to deal with this:

• Retain a sentimental attachment to your lousy team while bandwagoning on to, say, the Red Sox or Mets, much in the way many grads of non-football-powerhouse colleges will support a team less likely to finish 2-11. (For example, I was educated at Oxford and the Sorbonne, but I root for Princeton.) This can work out well, but leaves one feeling a little guilty.

• Just root against the Yankees. A surprisingly effective tactic in their recent choke-filled years. However, the most annoying people in the organization are play-by-play man Michael Kay and George Steinbrenner. No matter how many times the team craps itself in October, those dudes are still back the next spring. It seems unfair, and it gets frustrating after a while.

• Embrace the slim mathematical possibility that middling veterans will have freak career years, the young prospects will not only meet but exceed expectations, the gruff old-hand manager will keep veteran egos in check, the gimpy but talented Venezuelan right fielder and shortstop will stay healthy enough to be captured in a humorous-when-out-of-context picture with Miss Monroe County after the season (above, left), the aging left-handed veteran pitcher will surprise everyone by blatantly cheating gutting his way to an undefeated October ... that kind of stuff.

And last year that one worked!

Yes, it was a strangely un-Tigers-like season; even Todd Jones came through. The team's been so bad since 1989 that it doesn't have one of those twice-shy fan bases — the kind that tries to keep its hopes in check lest they just be disappointed again, etc. — since the disappointment usually comes immediately in April, and is later punctuated by a sexual harassment scandal involving airplanes. Still, that didn't make it less of an infuriating disaster to fumble away the division to the Twins. (After this became official on the last day of the season, I sulked for a while, then headed out to see a concert, where the first thing the lead singer said, seriously, was, "you're going to hear a lot about the Twins tonight".)

The playoffs began no better. I attended the first game of the ALDS in person and, hey, funny story! I ended up getting shown on national television. I didn't know I was on camera while it was happening, but five seconds later I got a text message from a friend — who I knew was thousands of miles away — that said something along the lines of "how's that Bud Light in your left hand?" Then my parents called, which never happens after 10; I didn't answer, because the game was going on, but I had started to put the pieces together. (The wheels were turning pretty slowly. It wasn't the first Bud Light that had been in my left hand that night.) Then I got a very irate voicemail from someone who I probably should have invited to the game instead of the young lady I had just been shown with. Then we lost.

Needless to say, the experience of seeing my favorite team make the playoffs for the first time in 20 years had turned out to be significantly more disappointing, unnerving and destructive of my personal relationships than I had expected. Still, even a playoff flameout would've been tolerable. It had been a fun year for once, with a lot of memorable wins, promise for the future, etc.

But lo! The old squad turned things around, busting off eight straight wins. And then, as Magglio Ordonez' game-winning home run against Oakland sailed into the crowd, setting off jubilation across the metro area, the season ended in triumph.

Yep, that was it!

The Tigers enter this year's defense of their American League title with high hopes, and a first baseman that looks like Paul Bunyan. The two notable offseason acquisitions have a combined age of 79. Gary Sheffield contributes 38 of those, which isn't terrible if the shoulder heals up. I don't really care to research the likelihood of that happening for fear of what I might find out, but GM Dave Dombrowski has a good record with the aforementioned gimpy veterans, so I think it's entirely fair if we pencil Sheffield in for 45 homers and 130 RBIs, and then go nuts on him in the press if he doesn't produce. The other pickup was Jose Mesa, who has been guaranteed a spot in the bullpen. God knows why. I bet Steve Phillips and John Kruk are behind it though. As for the returning players, chemistry doesn't seem to be a problem, but that's the kind of thing which doesn't ever seem to be a problem until you're having problems beating the fucking Cavs in the playoffs, to mix a Detroit sports metaphor. On the skill side, the Tigers need: solidly middle-of-the-road contributions from their middle-of-the-roaders (Sean Casey, Brandon Inge, Craig Monroe, Nate Robertson et al); minimal declines from the aforementioned veteran stars; and the anticipated leaps forward from Jeremy Bonderman, Curtis Granderson and the rest. I'm not going to pretend I have any personal idea whether those things will happen, but it does seem like smart Web obsessives (here are some good examples ) and mainstream types are both optimistic. So I guess we just have to be nice to strangers and hope that the karmic wheel will not deal us some sort of cruel, White Sox-like, getting-better-but-not-making-the-playoffs fate.

Also, if some random Triple A dude could come out of the slice and hit 40 home runs in April again, that would be nice.

In closing, I would like to use this forum for three quick notes.

• "My Tiger" is Brandon Inge.

• In 1901, a first baseman named Davey Crockett played in 28 games for Detroit. His name is carved in a stone outside Comerica Park. If you would like to take a .jpg of this and help me transform it into a very-limited-edition t-shirt for me and my friends, please contact me at ben_mathis-lilley (at) nymag (dot) com, I will buy you two box seats to a Tigers home game. Swear to God.

• The popular Detroit blogger (and Deadspin commenter!) Uncle Grambo wrote the following because he didn't like a Slate column I wrote about the Pistons:

...Suck a dick. What kind of pussy puts a dash in his last name...you effing cum stain.

Ahem.

Mr. Graham,

Ben

I call it "turning the other cheek, Internet-style." May we all follow the teachings of the eJesus, and may he reward my good behavior by blessing the Tigers. Play ball!

Club president and general manager Dave Dombrowski told WXYT-AM (1270) on Wednesday the team had concluded Zumaya's injury resulted from playing a video game, not from his powerful throwing motion. "That was probably what was taking place," Dombrowski later told the Free Press.

Zumaya, 22, was known to play "Guitar Hero," a PlayStation 2 game in which a player uses a guitar-shaped controller to simulate the performance of popular songs.

This makes perfect sense and is in no way indicative of other possible injuries. It can be awfully difficult to hit those ripping chords on "Rhythm Of The Saints," we'll give Joel that.

Guitar Video Game Hurt Zumaya's Arm [Baseball Think Factory]
Breaking: Athletes Also Like To Jack Off To Internet [Deadspin]

Okay, what can I say? My guys lost, and badly. At the start of the season I was telling friends that I'd be happy with 87 wins (which, as it turns out, is more than the Cardinals wound up registering); I don't think anyone expected a World Series appearance. And yet I'm still bitter, when, by all rights, I should be thrilled that they got that far. I'm also doing that thing you do when your team loses where you keep telling yourself, "It's only a game, there are more important things in life, etc.," except the fact that I'm here (and at my regular gig) all day is a constant reminder of the fact that, while I got to see the Tigers win a post-season series for the first time since I was eleven (although I sort of count those final three games against the Blue Jays in '87 as a playoff match), I got to see them fail in the clutch.

Speaking of the Tigers: There was a lot of chatter during the original announcement of this wager as to how I could be both a Tigers fan and a fan of the Saints. I'm also a fan of the Flyers and the Celtics, so between the W.S., the Ravens, Red passing away, and, you know, the hockey season thus far, it hasn't been the best week. In any event, why those teams? The short answer is that my dad is completely, actively disinterested in sports: as a kid I was forced to form my own allegiances, and rather than do the easy thing and pick my local teams, I looked around and carefully considered whom I'd be rooting for. My Tigers fandom came about because at the age of nine no one in the world seemed more to represent what baseball was than Sparky Anderson. The Celtics happened because Mom's family is from Boston and has had season tickets since there were still Jews on the team. The Saints are case of a late-developing interest in football and the ability to sit in a bar that seats 70,000. And the Flyers came about because, much like Peter Zezel, I hate the Rangers.

But enough about me: I'm going to throw this out there to those of you who somehow wound up fans of teams from different cities: How did it happen? Why? Do you feel like you're somehow more committed because it's harder to catch your team on TV? Are you intrinsically a better person because you've chosen to buck the convention that dictates you must like a team out of some accident of geography? Intersperse your answers in the comments with all the other readers who are busy telling me I suck. (Bring it on, bitches, I am NOT AFRAID. I deal with Leon Freilich every day, you lot are nothing. And if the commenters at Gawker are right, you're a bunch of easily-intimidated troglodytes who are completely lacking critical faculties. Yeah, they said that.)

Okay, one down. Got a couple of features planned today, and, if you're good, I'll put up some clips from Jaws II, the little-seen gay porn movie Ron Jaworski made after he retired from the Chiefs. I know that's what you want anyway.

Oh, right, before I forget: Congratulations to Will Leitch and the St. Louis Cardinals. I am totally sincere when I say that, if I had to lose to Will, I am thrilled he was able to watch his team clinch on the home field. And I'm glad he made it out of St. Louis without getting raped or murdered, which is apparently a common occurrence there. Thanks (I guess?) for trusting me with the keys, Will; I'll try not to fuck it up too much.

Because all bloggers live in their parents' basements and just type in their underwear all day because they can't get a real media job, we took our mom and dad to the game; our father was 18 when the Cardinals won in 1967 and (gulp) 33 in 1982, so it was a rather intense experience for him and Mom as well. It was also cold; extremely cold; we actually found ourselves screaming at players to mush rather than run.

But it was something, obviously, that won't be forgotten, even after this series has long faded. (And judging by the ratings, and the general sluggish nature of the games, won't take long.) So here's our report from the front lines, being at Busch for the clinching of the World Championship. We'll be done after this; it's pretty much all left that we have to say.

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Typically, we showed up outside Busch about four hours before gametime and parked our Chevy Cobalt, the road cannon of destruction, and ended up next to a van with a picture of Derek Jeter on it. Honestly, this World Series would have been so much better if it had the Yankees in it? Don't you agree? What's baseball without the Yankees? Derek Jeter is, after all, the face of baseball.

The Cardinals might have won the World Series, but, without question, they will always finish in last place in fan signs. Honestly, Cardinals fans come up with the dopiest goddamned signs. They're all made by the same people — we don't know who they are, and, frankly, we don't want to — and they're easily identifiable by that odd font we don't remember seeing anyplace else. We'd feel so much better if they just held up signs that said, "GO CARDS!" The most clever one was "LEAVE IT TO WEAVER." That was the most clever one.

While drinking at frat house enclave Paddy-O's before the game, we came across this gentleman, wearing only a pair of shorts and painted entirely in red. Falling back on one of our favorites jokes, we asked him if he had a skin condition. He answered in an oddly literal way: "Actually, yeah, I can't stay out in the sun too long or I peel real bad." We nodded, confused, and said we were referring to the fact that he was, you know, entirely red. "Oh, yeah, that too, man, yeah, ha ha ... GO CARDS!" Out of conversation, we just yelled the same thing back at him.

We had hoped the rainout of two days beforehand had scared Billy Ray Cyrus off his duties as singer of the national anthem, but, alas, 'twas not to be. Here's something you might not know about Billy Ray Cyrus: He cannot sing. We're not fans of country music, but we at least acknowledge some giants of the genre. Cyrus is proof that you can just toss a twang in here or there, and, for some people, that's enough. Honky Tonk Badonkadonk!

It is to the credit of Cardinals fans in our section that Cyrus was booed. We wouldn't call it "lustily booed," but it was too cold for anything involving lust. Oh, and we were with our parents.

If we might get sporty for a moment ... it's a good thing the Cardinals took care of this series early, because everyoen's been awfully quiet about just how much Albert Pujols struggled in this series. He had two opportunities to put Game 5 away and failed in both spots. If they had lost, he'd start getting those "Bonds-postseason-choker" labels that are always unfair but not really. It's telling that Pujols is probably the best player in baseball, and the leader of the team that won the World Series, and afterwards everyone was talking about David Eckstein, Adam Wainwright and Scott Rolen. We think this might stick in his mind a bit through the offseason, because that's just what Pujols does.

Anyway, long story short: Everything went perfect for the Cardinals all game — though if we ever see Chris Duncan in the outfield again, we're going to personally take his left hand off with a welding torch — and then Adam Wainwright struck out Brandon Inge in the top of the ninth inning to win the World Series. This caused people to go rather nuts.

It's extremely difficult to take pictures of fireworks, particularly when you're screaming at the top of your lungs and pouring beer on your own head. Trust us.

It's an odd thing to stay in the stands when your team wins the World Series at home, because after everyone's done jumping on top of each other and bonding homoerotically, they clear everything out, drive a truck on the field, set up a podium and hand the microphone to Bud Selig. During this whole time, you're yelling as loud as you can, and yelling is an activity that requires considerable effort. By the time Bud Selig starts talking, it can be difficult to hang on to one's enthusiasm. It's almost as if, we dunno, that guy has a special ability to suck the life out of things.

Fortunately, you can always leave the stands, run out on the concourse and do a public imitation of a blowup doll.

And then we took to the streets, where, sadly, no cars were burning. There were just a few brave souls climbing up the Stan Musial statue, and some guy who vowed to do a pushup for everyone one of the Cardinals' wins this season. (There weren't that many, mercifully.) We did try to drink that big bottle of Jager, though.

Look, even Eckstein came outside for the party!

The party went on pretty much all night; when we finally made it back to a computer to do the Holy Freaking Crap post, it was 5 a.m. CT. (We love that photo of Eckstein more than anything, by the way, not least of which because of the picture of Jayson Stark in the background, quietly computing which World Series MVPs of the last 25 years have been under six feet tall and slugging tequila directly after the clinching game.) The rest of the weekend was pretty much the same. The Cardinals won the World Series, and we were there, and everything else, we were just zonked and checked out from. We're sorry we can't give you more here; we just don't believe it happened, and we're not gonna question it ... we're just going to bathe in it and never forget it. And — we promise — we're gonna stop talking about it now.

St. Louis "won" the most dangerous city, and Detroit was second, though we were actively disappointed by the lack of burning cars outside Busch Stadium last Friday. We tried to set our own on fire, to set an example, but apparently Chevy Cobalts aren't particularly flammable. Plucky cars, those.

Report Finds St. Louis Most Dangerous U.S. City [MSNBC]

(We're not counting this as our third Cardinals post, by the way. Sorry. Just one more.)

Which is why we think it's best, instead, just to pour tequila over your head and go crazy, folks.

in the 50-plus hours since Adam Wainwright struck out Brandon Inge to win the St. Louis Cardinals' 10th World Series on Friday night, we have put much conscious thought into not having much conscious thought. The first 16 hours were unrestrained celebration — or, as our dad put it, "screaming like a goddamned idiot" — trying to avoid sleep, trying to avoid anything that would involve a transfer from that world, the screaming idiot world, the madness of an ether binge world, and the rest of the world, the one that involves bills and careers and obligations and spring training. When you want a moment to last forever, when it's something you've waited for and obsessed about and never thought possible, you'll hang onto it far longer than is reasonably healthy.

We were lucky; not only did we get to be physically present for that moment — There! We were really there! — but because it happened on a Friday, we had a whole weekend just to revel in it. To roll around in it, to wrap ourselves up in it, to floss with it. We have been walking around all weekend with the blissful stare of the lobotomized. We come back today aware that life goes on, that a Cardinals World Championship doesn't actually change our lives, that there's still work to be done, lives to be lived. And that's fine. But it happened, we were there, and we think that labotomized bliss face still has some life yet. The Cardinals won the World Series. Everything else in life, well, jeez, that's just bonus, really.