You brush the dirt from your glove and put it back on the shelf. You take your Detroit Tigers cap, wipe the sweat from the brim, then hang it on the hook.
Done? Done. The season is over. And yet suddenly a moment flashes across your brain, a moment that could have changed everything. …
There is Tarik Skubal, on the mound, squashing Seattle batters like a tank over a mudfield on Friday, Oct. 10.
Thirteen strikeouts in six innings? Taking out the mighty Cal Raleigh on three pitches in his final confrontation? If only he could have come out for a few more frames. Even one more frame?
Then things might be …
No. Can’t torture yourself. You take your cleats and wipe the mud from the spikes. You tuck the laces under the tongue and put them back on the rack.
Done? Done. A season that felt like a cross-country road trip, through the mountains, through the prairies, through the ocean, wet with foam? A season that saw our home team, at one point, so far ahead they were a dot on the horizon, but now that horizon is a sunset, with other teams moving on and winter’s darkness descending?
Done? Done. Just accept it, right? And yet, there it is again. A flash across your eyes …
The eighth inning. Tie game. Two Tigers on. No runs scored. The 11th inning. Two Tigers on. No runs scored. The 12th inning. Bases loaded. Gleyber Torres flies out. No runs scored. And it all ends in the 15th inning, 3-2, Mariners. …
Stop. Can’t do it. You take the socks from the dryer, and fold them neatly. Why torture yourself? Why wonder if one hit, one measly, stinking hit, just a bloop single, a dying quail, a seeing-eye ball that dropped between two charging fielders, might have changed everything, sent the Tigers to the ALCS for the first time in 12 years?
Why ask why? As Skubal told the media after the longest winner-take-all playoff game in Major League Baseball history was over, when you lose, “It’s meant to hurt.”
Done? Done.
Tigers create so many questions
You clean the uniform and hang it up neatly. You run your hand wistfully across the orange and black “Detroit” letters. The part of you − the part of every fan − who plays the game along with the actual players, goes through withdrawal the same way the players do. Is it the same pain? Of course not. Is it still painful? Of course it is.
You think about how many chances the Tigers had in that final, maddening, nearly five-hour marathon. They used eight pitchers, lefties, righties, relievers, starters. For 15 innings, until the final at-bat, they only gave up two runs.
And yet at the same time, Riley Greene, Spencer Torkelson, Torres and Colt Keith, the Nos. 2, 3, 4 and 5 hitters in the lineup, went 0-for-23. Really? 0-for-23?
A game that started a little after 8 p.m. Friday night and ended just after 1 a.m. Saturday was long enough to be two games, and in many ways it was. Because while the Tigers missed one chance after another, they made sure the Mariners did the same.
Didn’t Seattle actually strand more runners (12) than Detroit (10)? Weren’t the Mariners just as bad with men on base as the Tigers were (2-for-12 with runners in scoring position)? How many double plays did the Tigers turn to get out of trouble? How many times did the Seattle fans throw their heads back and say, “Not again!”
But maybe that makes it worse. The Tigers played so much of that final game — in a raucous, thunderous, negative environment — as if they were toying with the home team, letting them get close, but denying them again and again. And all it would take would be one mighty swing, like the one Kerry Carpenter had in the sixth inning, a ball over the wall, a two-run homer, and that would be it. Tigers would win.
Except that really was it. Carpenter’s dinger was the extent of the Tigers’ offense. And we had a novel without the final chapter. A movie with the battle scene clipped just short of victory.
“That was an incredible win for them,” A.J. Hinch told the media after this was over, “which means it was an incredible loss for us.”
Done? Done.
Tigers felt like so much more
You take your bats and zip them in a bag. You throw your batting gloves, your sunglasses, and various other accessories into a knapsack. You wash the eye-black off your face. No need for that anymore. You dry it with a towel and notice you are wiping away a little extra moisture.
Because this was a Tigers season unlike any other. It set your heart pounding, then it broke your heart, then it mended it, then broke it again.
It began with predictions like “possible playoff contender” and “maybe 87 wins” and three straight losses to the Dodgers and then, oh, my, next thing you knew, suddenly, Detroit was so far out ahead, you needed to FedEx the Tigers your applause.
What was that lead on July 8? Fourteen games over the next closest AL Central teams? The Tigers had the best record in baseball for many days this season.
And yet they had the worst finish. They lost 20 of 27 games down the stretch and 13 of their final 16. Had they not had the better head-to-head record against the Houston Astros, they would have missed the playoffs altogether.
Let’s face it. On the last weekend of the season, they were Cinderella after midnight, riding a pumpkin, just hoping to sneak into the house before the prince discovered they were more rags than riches.
But then the postseason game. And the Tigers showed incredible moxie and beat Cleveland two out of three, despite all three games being on the road.
And then, the Mariners series, and surviving another elimination game with a sudden burst of offense in Game 4, then pushing things all the way to the 15th inning of a winner-take-all slugfest in Game 5.
And after all that, after the last showers and the final bus to the hotel, the Tigers got exactly as far as they did last season. Second round of the playoffs. Inches away from playing for the pennant.
And yet it feels like so much more. There is great promise on this team, just as there is great disappointment. There is a singular superstar in Skubal, just as there are not enough other superstars in the lineup. There is a tremendous core, just as there are a few gaping holes, and the front office will have to address that.
But that’s what you do in the offseason, right?
“I’d love for this series to go another sixth or seventh game,” Hinch told reporters, “but I don’t think any of us have the pitching to get through two more games.”
Or the stomach acid. Done? Done.
You close the locker door, you turn the key, you walk down the tunnel and exit through the parking lot. A U.S. President once famously said, “Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose.”
Except tomorrow the Tigers are on airplanes to various homes and vacations, and you are back on the couch, the baseball gear stored away until next spring.
You sigh. You lean back. And you ask yourself the only thing a Detroit sports fan can ask himself today.
What time do the Lions start?
Mitch Albom will sign copies of his new novel “Twice” this Friday, Oct. 17, at 6:30 pm, Book A Million in Beverly Hills, and this Saturday, Oct. 18, at 930 a.m., Barnes and Noble in Ann Arbor, 3235 Washtenaw Ave.
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