illustrations by Samara Pearlstein
Great timing, kittens. Nothing quite like the death of the entire offensive output during the freaking World Series. Great great great great timing. My favorite timing. Most enjoyable indeed. So happy with everyone involved in holding a bat for the Tigers right now.
I can understand something like the catcher position failing to produce when, say, Gerald Laird is getting a start. I can kind of understand Delmon Young regressing to the Delmon mean. And I am sure some of this is down to the pitching of the Giants, if I’m going to be reasonable/charitable. But for the entire offense to behave this anemically… in the World Series… it’s just not acceptable, or something that will result in good things for Detroit, or anything useful, at all, in any way, within the realm of baseball. If the Tigers want to win some freaking games here, they need to revive the bats. Zombie bats. Whatever, I don’t care, so long as they’re upright and able to shamble zombi-ly into some hits and runs.
There was also that wee bit of unwelcome excitement with Doug Fister.
He reacted so little that upon initial viewing I wasn’t sure the ball had made contact with him at all. I thought it had maybe hit his glove as he raised it up; surely that had to be the case, given the location of the ricochet and Fister’s non-reaction. But replay showed that not only had the ball hit him and not his glove, it had actually hit him squarely on the side of the head. Great great great. Again, not what we want to see at any time, but most especially right now, where every game counts for ever so much and the pitchers have to be on the absolute uppermost top of their game(s), especially if the offense is going to continue to be dead and the bullpen has some tolerably good parts but is riven throughout with lines of instability and Papa Grande has forgotten how to get outs and argh argh argh.
The fact that Fister could shake that off like it was nothing says much about his mental fortitude, his pure Fisterian badassery, and maybe a little about the thick plate-like construction protecting the soft tissues in his head.
Anyways, as I said, Fister barely reacted to the baseball hit directly at his skull, stood up immediately, was able to continue pitching, etc. Initial tests were fine. He seems like he should be ok (although who ever knows with a head injury, my worry is always that there’s, I don’t even know, blood pooling silent and undetected on his brain right now or something horrific of that nature). Jim Leyland takes a deep breath.
There were a great many other things that happened in this game (like Prince being sent home and getting thrown out at the plate), but let us not speak of them. I’m already having a hard time with these games. To wit:
For games 3 and 4 (weather permitting), I will be IN ATTENDANCE, so obviously both these game-watching strategies will need some adjustment. I am open to suggestions.