Ushered Out Twice

My brother Phil had a good friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who spent about twenty years as a reservist with the Detroit Police. He never did much more than cover at baseball and hockey games but hey, it helped the regular cops out. 

Once Cloyce was working at a baseball game at old Tiger Stadium when, as part of his rounds, he stopped by the DPD office under the stands. The sergeant, indicating a sad looking fellow sitting over to the side, told Cloyce to escort the guy from the premises for public drunkenness. So Cloyce did. 

About three innings later Cloyce was back by the patrol room, and the sergeant told him to show another guy the door. The same guy, in fact. "Isn't he the one I took out before?" Cloyce asked. 

"He bought another ticket and came back in," the sergeant answered with a shrug. Warning the drunk not to return a third time or he'd face a night in jail, the sergeant gave him over to Cloyce. 

Cloyce spent the rest of the game keeping a sharp eye out for the miscreant. He didn't want his own reputation soiled if the guy actually did get back in the ballpark.

Time Goes By

Carlos Beltran has been elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame. Congrats to him. He actually has a spot of sorts in my heart, although probably for something he doesn't care to recall.

On September 27, 1999, the Detroit Tigers played their last game at old Tiger Stadium, a long gone baseball cathedral. I loved the place, and was fortunate enough to be at that final contest.

The visitors were the Kansas City Royals. The Tigers won 8-2. None other than rookie Carlos Beltran struck out in the top of the Ninth Inning for the last out ever at what Detroiters called The Corner, for the intersection of Michigan and Trumbull Avenues where the ballpark stood.

I'm happy you made the Hall, Carlos. I'm happy that you struck out that long ago day too.

A Good Run

Well, it was fun while it lasted. My Detroit Tigers have been eliminated from the Major League Baseball playoffs. Yet I do not heavy sigh at the fact. It was a good year.

Jim Leyland, the team's former manager, once said something along the lines of the championship team isn't the only team which had a successful season. I disagree. The World Series winner in baseball, the Super Bowl champion in the NFL, and the team which hoists the Stanley Cup in hockey are the only truly successful teams each year in their sport. But I will say that doesn't mean lesser teams can't have memorable or special seasons. Or that those seasons can't perhaps be better than championships.

For me, the best Tigers year may have been 1976, and they weren't anywhere near the World Series. They couldn't even sniff at it. But they had Mark 'The Bird' Fidrych on the hill every fifth day, and man, old Tiger Stadium was raucous when he pitched. That young man was so completely sincere, so legitimate, so honestly without pretense that you had to like him. Check this short clip for a feel of things. That's what sports ought to be about. Not chest pounding. Not looking for a camera to tell the world how great you are after a play. Just a love of the game and modesty about your accomplishments. I was at Tiger Stadium five times that year when the Bird pitched. Each visit absolutely rocked.

The 2006 Tigers were a team which came out of nowhere to make it to the World Series. It was a good ride that year, not unlike the 2024 squad. They are memorable because they gave hope for the future. Even 1999 was fun in its own way, despite being the last season at a venerable old ballpark, Tiger Stadium. To watch Robert Fick's grand slam seal the win from my family's seats in left field at the finale still sends chills. The Tigers had to, they simply had to, win that last game. They did.

So 2024 was a fun year in Detroit baseball annals. It does leave me excited for 2025.

Roof Shot

I knew that day twenty five years ago now would be a cool one the moment I entered old Tiger Stadium with my sons in tow. I just had a feeling.

April 20, 1997 was a Sunday, two days before my birthday. At nearly the last minute I decided to go to the baseball game as a self indulgent present. When I say last minute I mean it; I made the decision maybe 45 minutes before the first pitch. But when you only live a mile from the stadium it's no big deal.

We drove down and parked right across the street from the bleacher entrance. We bought tickets and went to sit in the upper deck in right center. 

The boys were excited because the in house camera showed them on the center field scoreboard. I was excited because in the second inning Oakland's Mark McGwire cleared the left field roof with a home run. He was the fourth and last player to do that in Tiger Stadium history.

It was the only opposition homer I ever rooted for. Off the bat I could tell McGwire really got hold of the pitch. "That's a roof shot!" I yelled, and then began screaming "Go! Go! Go!" It hit the facing of the roof once, then bounded over and out of the park almost in slow motion.

I know McGwire's career has since been tainted by steroid use. But man, that was one magnificent home run regardless. Majestic. A true thing of beauty for a baseball fan. And me and the boys had catbird seats for it.

An Old Green Seat

At one time Detroit's Tiger Stadium, the local baseball park from 1896 until 1999, had what were called box seats. They were actually individual padded chairs rather than a connected series of seats as most other ballpark seating was at the time (well, even now in most stadiums and arenas I suppose). They were the most expensive seats in the park, and I never sat in one during a game. But now I can.

I bought one those beauties from a sports memorabilia dealer. What do you think?

Now I can sit in a box seat anytime I want to, while watching any game I want to. Ain't life grand?

It dates from 1917 when the place was called Navin Field, after then owner Frank Navin. I hope I look that good after 105 years of wear.

All those fields

I'm currently reading Ballparks: Yesterday and Today. It offers interesting and quick histories (along with a few pictures) of, you guessed it, ballparks, baseball stadiums. It's led me to think that if I had a bucket list but it could be experienced over and through time, I would visit all those old parks.

Needless to say I would go back to Detroit's old Tiger Stadium often. But what modern baseball fan wouldn't want to see Ebbets Field in Brooklyn or Forbes Field in Pittsburgh? Crosley Field in Cincinnati or Braves Field in Boston (there were a lot of fields in the day weren't there)? Many are gone in the mists of time, though a section of Braves Field still exists as, ugh, a football stadium.

To be sure, there are things in the modern world I would like to see despite what I might say. But I lack the burning desire to see them which I have where baseball stadiums are concerned. There is something off about your bucket list being in the past, isn't it?

But the description of Ebbets Field really was enticing.

Section 504

One of the nicer things which the corona panic has brought about has been the replaying of big games in local sports history. Last night I watched a replay of the final major league baseball game at Detroit's Tiger Stadium. I enjoyed it so much I watched the replay of the replay at two this morning. It's not conducive to a good night's sleep, but it was worth it.

I was there with my family that day, September 27, 1999. I had not seen the game since. We sat in Section 504, Row M, Seats 11-15. They were in left field, which gave us a perfect view of Robert Fick crushing the grand slam which sealed the win. I screamed, "Go, Go!" all the way until the ball hit the right field roof. Then I screamed even louder in, no hyperbole here, thanksgiving, because I knew the game was over. The home club simply can't lose its last game in a grand old ballpark.

As player from all eras were introduced and paraded onto the field afterwards, I saw so many heroes from my youth. Mark "The Bird" Fidrych, came out first. He ran to the pitching mound, getting on his knees to groom it as he did as a player, and produced a baggie to fill with mound dirt. Willie Horton cried unashamedly as he jogged out to his left field position. The recently departed Al Kaline, after helping in the broadcast booth during the telecast, had perhaps the loudest cheers as he walked to the right field spot he owned for two decades.

We stayed after for as long as we were allowed, even getting to catch a final view from the bleachers at my oldest son's behest. The usher was just locking the gate, but he let us in. I don't think he wanted to yet I believe he appreciated our wish.

So there you have it. A game I haven't seen in twenty years I watched twice in one night. Maybe something good has come out of things after all.

Hey there, you're an all star

What do you do when wide awake at one o'clock in the morning? You watch a replay of the 1971 All Star game from Detroit's Tiger Stadium.

It was a great ballpark. And it's really cool watching the players I grew up with young and playing well. Norm Cash, Bill Freehan, and Al Kaline were all there. The Willies, Mays and McCovey, are representing the Giants. Hank Aaron and Reggie Jackson hit monster homers.

Perhaps best of all, the stadium was still green. The old girl looked a lot better in green.

I never imagined, watching the game in the den with me Pops in 1971, that the next time I'd see it would be in the middle of a chilly September night 53 years later. Of course, at 11 you never imagine yourself at 64.

Hey look, there's Bill Freehan and Johnny Bench, two old catchers, at the plate at the same time. Too cool.

Baseball, me, me Pops, and September 27

Today it has been twenty years since Detroit's Tiger Stadium saw its last major league baseball action. I still remember the first game me Pops took me to. He wore a suit because in those days you wore a suit even to sporting events, and I held his hand as that wonderful green cathedral opened up before me as we entered the stadium through a runway. We played Kansas City that day and won 9-7.

The Tigers beat Kansas City on September 27, 1999 by an 8-2 score. Me Pops wasn't at that game (though he went the day before with a bunch of us) but I was, along with my family. It was a great if bittersweet time, capped by a Robert Fick grand slam in the 8th inning and a Todd Jones strikeout to end the Ninth and thus the ball yard's history.

Then the Tigers played Kansas City on this date in 2012. In that game, Doug Fister (on the mound for Detroit) struck out nine straight Kansas City batters to set the American League record for most consecutive strikeouts in a game. We listened to that game at the Shop, the old barn, me Pops and I hanging on every pitch as Fister struck out batter after batter. The old man laughed happily at every strikeout after about the sixth one. It was one of the best times I had listening to games with him. And though I did not know it that day, it was the last Tiger game I ever listened to on the radio with me Pops.

It's funny, isn't it, the symmetry we so often find in life. The last game at Tiger Stadium was against Kansas City. The first game me Pops took me to was against Kansas City. The last game we shared was against Kansas City. I don't about you, but, I like it.

The shot heard round the yard

To fully understand the scene, you need to know that my grandparents lived right next door to us, their house maybe 15 feet away from ours. Both of our front porches sat up, the decks about six feet high. There were railings on the porches of course, and from these railings people could stand and talk to one another across the breach. Or they could make a nice crowd for a five year old with imagination.

I remember well the day me Pops had us kids, me and my sibs, out on the little patch of yard between those porches, pitching a plastic baseball to us. We would all try in turn to absolutely clobber that ball, the ball Dad was trying his best to get to hit our bats. Mom and a couple other people stood on our porch to the left, me Grandpa Joe and Grandma and I honestly believe a couple others standing on the porch to the right. To a small child, it had a real stadium feel.

As I recall, I scorched a hard liner past the old man who, being at that moment my adversary, seemed far too pleased with my success. Joe smiled broadly as he puffed on his Charltons, and cheers rained down from the gallery as I loped unchallenged around the makeshift diamond, the youngest World Series winner in baseball history at old Tiger Stadium.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't actually Tiger Stadium. But as Cosgriff Field, it was a good substitute.

The rose and the Mud Hens

Facebook is quite nice. It helps us keep up with people, and reminds us of good times gone by. This morning it showed me a picture I had posted six years ago today.

After Detroit Tiger Stadium had been torn down but before the City took over the field, people could wander on the remains of the baseball diamond. I did just that several times, and even played pitch and catch with my family on the old field. Cool beans.

One summer day as I took my morning walk I ended up there, and roamed around the field for a few minutes. I noticed something on the pitcher's mound: it was an old Toledo Mud Hens cap, left with a red rose across the bill. I snapped a picture on my phone and apparently shared it to Facebook.

Such things are what stories are made of, and I wonder what the story is behind it. Was it a tribute to Tiger Stadium? A memory a person? A salutation?

I wonder. The picture is on my Facebook page again today. If I can figure out how to add it here, I will. But for now, well, I am happy that Facebook reminded me about it.

The evil that Marty do

I did it anyway, even though it was pure evil. Call it my Father's Day gift to myself. I blame society anyway. If it hadn't furnished me with inventions such as cell phones with picture taking and internet capability, I couldn't have done it. It's all your fault, society.
It was evil, mind you. Pure evil. When you must duck under clearly marked caution tape and ignore do not trespass signs as well, you know you're doing something wrong. Evil, indeed. But gosh darn it, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat.
I walked onto Wayne Sate University's baseball field, having access because the backstop behind home plate is being replaced, the construction zone guarded by mere caution tape. That is nowhere near good enough to prevent determined evildoers. I walked to within thirty feet of the scoreboard in left field, the same scoreboard which used to adorn the left field wall at old Tiger Stadium here in Detroit. I took a picture of it. Then, to compound my evil, I posted the picture to facebook, taunting WSU. Nya-ha-ha! I thought, as I twirled the old timey curly evil villain mustache I imagined for the moment that I had.
And then I simply walked away. What were the authorities going to do by then, throw me out? I was leaving anyhow.

At the ballpark with Cloyce

My brother Phil had a good friend, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, who spent about twenty years as a reservist with the Detroit Police. He never did much more than cover at baseball and hockey games but hey, it helped the regular cops out.
Once Cloyce was working at a baseball at old Tiger Stadium when, as part of his rounds, he stopped by the DPD office under the stands. The sergeant, indicating a sad looking fellow sitting over to the side, told Cloyce to escort the guy from the premises for public drunkenness. So Cloyce did.
About three innings later Cloyce was back by the patrol room, and the sergeant told him to show another guy the door. The same guy, in fact. "Isn't he the one I took out before?" Cloyce asked.
"He bought another ticket and came back in," the sergeant answered with a shrug. Warning the drunk not to return a third time or he'd face a night in jail, the sergeant gave him over to Cloyce.
Cloyce spent the rest of the game keeping a sharp eye out for the miscreant. He didn't want his own reputation soiled if the guy actually did get back in the stadium.

Random Thursday thoughts

Yesterday was the 17th Anniversary of the last baseball game at Tiger Stadium. The then Kansas City batter, Carlos Beltran, who made the last out at the old ballpark is now the last active major league player to have actually played there. I find a certain symmetry in that.

I bought a cured ham once but never ate it. I was worried what it had had.

I've always thought that Darth Vader's mother's name should have been Ella.

The NFL is being really hypocritical on the Anthem issue. They enforce all sorts of regulations on the players without worry about their supposed rights. Why is this different?

Oh heck, I got nothing else. Next time...

Saturday rambling

What to say on a Saturday...

Technology really is great. I just spent a half hour messaging back and forth with a friend in the Philippines, in real time. I never imagined something like that would ever be possible in my lifetime. The Philippines were at one time just some islands half a world away. Now they're right on my desktop computer.

Rest in peace Mike Ilitch. I hated that you closed Detroit's Tiger Stadium but I loved your commitment to Detroit. Thank you.

An old customer came into the old barn yesterday. We reminisced on old times and old friends. We talked about Pops and how well he treated people. We talked about a few mundane things like drain snakes; does anyone else even know what a Spartan 71 is? We lamented the aging process. I'm damned glad he came by.

I wish I was curling today. Although there's still about eight weeks left to the season I see the end coming. I haven't had my best season performance wise, but physically I haven't felt so comfortable in years. Amazing what getting into half decent shape does for ya, ain't it?

The WWETT (look it up; I'm not your mother) is in ten days or so. I get to spend four days in Indianapolis and see folks that I only see there. Indy's a great town: it seems bigger every time I'm there, which is often. I really can't wait to get back.

Curling makes lifelong friends. I hadn't curled in Forest, Ontario in about five years until last Wednesday and had three locals come up to me and ask, "How are you, Marty?" Curlers remember curlers. Other than Kate's friend Elaine that is. I'll explain that later.

Since most folks have stopped reading by now, I'll stop writing. So long!

The guy in the middle

Baseball gets a hold on you, and it never lets go. I have vowed at times to stop paying attention to it, as I have stopped paying much mind to other sports. Too much money involved, too much emphasis on kid's games. And then the greatest game draws me right back in.

My son took me to Fenway Park in Boston yesterday, and it was a great experience all around. We took a tour of the self proclaimed America's most loved ballpark (that might be hyperbole but it is one wonderful baseball stadium) and watched the Detroit Tigers triumph over the Boston Red Sox 4 to 2. It was a tense game which the Detroits tried to give away but didn't. Francisco Rodriguez earned a four out save as Jose Iglesias cleared the Green Monster with a two run homer in the 6th.

But to being drawn in. My first most wonderful ballpark experience was when Pops took me to old Tiger Stadium the first time. We walked down an enclosed corridor and turned left. That floor of that next, thinner corridor dipped slightly then rose, opening into a deep green panorama of seats, with an emerald green that I swear almost twinkled. To my young eyes it the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I was hooked.

They've since torn Tiger Stadium down, leaving Fenway as the last classic baseball stadium in the American League. As a Father's Day gift, Frank took me there. We entered off the street and into a large corridor. Going right a few feet we then turned left into a smaller corridor which rose into a marvelous red, green, and blue panorama. Emerald green grass covered the field. I was solidly rehooked. There was a lump in my throat.

So now I think I'm the man in the middle. Between two gifts from family generations on each side of me I felt, as a 56 year old man, just like I had as an 8 year old kid. This game, it just gets to ya.

True Historic Preservation

A University of Detroit Communications professor has made a documentary about a dedicated group of Tiger Stadium fans who call themselves the Navin Field Grounds Crew. They have voluntarily kept up the basic integrity of the baseball diamond on the site where the stadium once stood. Jason Roche, the aforementioned professor, followed them about their labors and his film will debut tonight at the Detroit Historical Museum. Above all else, what does this about historic preservation?

It tells us that the best way to preserve anything is not to go around asking others to do it, but to get your hands dirty and do it yourself.

In this case, the Navin Field group have seen to themselves that a cherished piece of Detroit history is somehow kept alive. Sure, we know that Senator Carl Levin has some few million bucks pigeonholed in federal coffers for use in redeveloping the site somehow. But as that hasn't happened yet as it is increasingly unlikely that it will, regular citizens, the ones interested in baseball and baseball history, have gotten out to do what they can on their own.

They're doing a good job of it too. A drive past Michigan and Trumbull will show all that a nice green field, well kept, is in place for the enjoyment of all. There are impromptu ball games, and just friends and families having a catch, all the time there. Out of towners drop by just to see what remains of the history of the Corner. Even Lions fans coming downtown for football have been spotted checking out the grounds, remembering that football was once played there too.

It would seem that the people can be trusted to understand and respect history even when millionaires and Detroit politicians spit on it. That is, however, a tale for another day. We have seen real historic preservation, a real concern for our collective past, at work. It is a much more inspiring thing than what any government could do. And it hasn't cost the taxpayers a dime.

Preserving a Treasured Detroit Landmark

Detroit has a lot of vacant land. Most of it will never be used, at least, not anytime soon. The situation is a burden on the city in many ways. Upkeep is costly and difficult, and no tax dollars come in off unused land. No one really knows what to do with it all.

Well, one group does, with one parcel anyway But the city doesn't want them to act. That group is the Navin Field Grounds Crew. All they want to do is keep the site of Old Tiger Stadium in reasonably good condition, and maybe toss the ball around the old ball yard a bit when they're done. The city calls them trespassers and doesn't want them setting foot on The Corner. It has even placed No Trespassing signs on the fences which surround it.

This is precisely the kind of asinine attitude which hurts Detroit in the long run. When the citizenry of their own volition want to do something as benign as mow a lawn and pick up the trash on a lot nobody else wants yet are told they cannot do so legally, well, you begin to think that Detroit deserves its fate. What possible harm can be done?

The reason the city gives is that, because a city owned building once sat there, there are liability issues. If someone gets hurts while on the grounds, they could sue Detroit. While it is pitifully obvious that too many people are too quick to sue these days, that surely would not be so with a dedicated bunch who loved the old stadium and simply want to keep the venue clean and available. Why not take the chance and let them work and play ball? That's what the space was for for well over a hundred years.

But, of course, ridiculous. And Detroit wonders why the rest of the state thinks it vain and, well, stupid. Locking out the Navin Field Grounds Crew simply displays, in microcosm, the troubles Detroit has with itself.

Change comes generally in small increments. This would be an easy first step for Detroit if she is serious about returning to her former glory. Let the people who want to maintain the Tiger Stadium grounds alone. It will solve at least one vacant lot issue and show a decent pliability on the part of city leadership. Short of that, maybe the Emergency Manager will step in and allow it. It's not as though Detroit is willing to act in any positive manner these days.