Ode to the J. Geils Band

As I watched our beloved Motor City Kitties squander another game last night I couldn’t help but think the Tigers were playing out a good part of the J. Geils Band’s catalogue. So, for your enjoyment:

What looked for all the world to be a Motor City Shakedown after the Tigers seized the lead in the bottom of the fifth turned into a Motor City Meltdown in the time it took Macay McBride to walk (pun fully intended) to the mound in the top of the sixth. A hit batter, two walks, and a grand slam — by a lefty no less! How many butts did our beloved chain-smoking skipper Jim Leyland go through during that half inning?

While the Freeze Frame of last year’s triumph over the Oakland A’s is still fresh in our mind and many of the Tigers have become Centerfold darlings around town (what with all the personal appearances, radio shows, etc.), it seems to me this team is definitely suffering a World Series hangover. Perhaps too much early-season success allowed it to get too full of itself as the year marched on. Guess what fellas; there is no switch in athletics you can turn on and off. See where this gets the Detroit Red Wings every spring. Note the Detroit Pistons have but one NBA Championship with this current group to revel in chiefly because the team tends to take stretches of games off and digs itself a hole it can’t emerge from.

And who’s left to suffer for all of this? We the fans. Yes, Love Stinks and that’s never been more true than this summer. The ballyard at Montcalm and Witherell virtually bursts at the seams on a nightly basis with cheering spectators eager to lavish their adoration on the boys in the Ole English D. They fill the seats and Mr. I’s coffers in hopes of capturing a bit of the joy from years gone by and sharing it with a new generation.

Like Friday night, though, the lovefest typically lasts only ‘Til the Walls Come Tumbling Down and — with a pitching staff that’s been reduced to a house of cards due to injuries and underperformance — it’s happened all too frequently this year.

This staff, the supposed strength of the team, has become one big stinker. It’s so beleaguered at the moment that Leyland wants to summon a fresh arm for tonight’s rematch with the A’s. To that I say: “Order up what you’d like, but No Anchovies, Please.”