A Special Reflection

To the 2006 Detroit Tigers,
The loss yesterday continued this deep sense of processing that I have done through the lens of our 2006 team… While one of my dad’s favorite memories is dancing with me as a toddler in 1984 after we won the World Series, I was too young to remember. I do, however, remember 1987 and Trammell and Whitaker, and I do remember Cecil Fielder and his 50 home runs, but I do not have many memories of winning very many baseball games. However, the beautiful part of this letter happens now, this past year, up until this moment. Much has happened in my life since the beginning of spring training 2006. As we were beginning the season, typical male blather seemed to fill conversations regarding our team. Many of us continued in skepticism, but some of us had a much more positive outlook on the team. (I, however, was one of the highest of skeptics!) While the story of the Tigers was continuing in spring training, my story was also continuing and taking some sharp turns. (Similar to the Tigers…) I was applying for graduate school, (contemplating leaving Michigan for this graduate school) and we had never been more uncertain of my mom’s health. I remember as the season started off well, I continued in my skepticism, even making bets against our team. (I figured that it would be easy money, and if I lost the bets, I figured that I would be delighted to pay… I suppose that it was probably a protection mechanism of sorts.) While we were beating all of the teams that we were supposed to beat, we were losing to the “good” teams. This was my defense within this community that was forming over our team this year. Every day we would always talk about the game and keep up on all of the happenings. By this time, I had been accepted into graduate school and began telling people that my wife and I would be moving to California. It was hard telling people that we were leaving. Really hard. My mom’s health had leveled out, but we were still uncertain of the future. This was hard as well. It was also hard to contain my excitement as a Tiger fan as you continued to win games into the month of August. I started doing the math and realized that we were probably going to make the playoffs. I am sorry to say, but this math led me to shed the skin of skepticism. I was so excited. I remember going to the cottage up in Baldwin to fish with a couple of the buddies that made up our secret Tigers fan club. I pretended that I was still skeptical, but really, my heart was enthralled for our team. That weekend we fished, threw some cards, drank some beer, and talked Detroit baseball. It was a marvelous time. We couldn’t wait to potentially be watching Tiger baseball in October. Around that same time my wife and I were packing boxes. Bubble wrap, cardboard, and tape enveloped our lives. We were making rental truck plans to move across the country, we were attending good bye parties (which also included my sister and saying good bye to her moving to the Dominican Republic at the same time my wife and I were moving), I had best man responsibilities as my best buddy was getting married, and life seemed so uncertain. We welcomed this uncertainty as our baseball season also became uncertain. We started losing games. It was crazy. We began to question the division, and then we began to even question the playoffs. This didn’t last long as the White Sox fell back and we knew that the play offs were a certainty. It also looked like the division would also be ours as the Royals were coming into town. What the hell happened that weekend? By the third game, I was watching in Los Angeles through the internet, and we had all the momentum. Inge hit a bomb, tears, literally fell from my eyes as we were going to win the division, but it fell foul. And we lost the damn game. I was pissed. I could not believe that we had just been swept by the flipping Kansas City Royals and had lost the division. I thought that the season was ruined. We were now going to go to have to play the Yankees in the first round, and this dream of a season was going to be over before we knew it. I am sorry for losing hope. We were now settled in California. My wife and I both had jobs and classes had begun. We had said our goodbyes, and we were now saying hello to new friends and to a new place. The community of friends had grown back in Michigan, even with my absence, and there was now a large group of people that text messaged, e-mailed and talked on the phone a regular basis about the playoffs. Included in this group was also my brother in law from Texas. It was such a pleasure to connect with him on a regular basis over these games. Thank you for providing space for this to happen. At this time my mom had a big MRI coming up and we were praying for the best. We continued to pray for healing. We lost game one, but as I watch from a local pub, while studying one of the 18 books that I had to know for grad school, we won game two. And then went on beautiful streak of playing beautiful baseball. Winning seven games in a row. My phone would be blowing up with text messages while in class and my piers would constantly laugh at me, I’m sure thinking that I was some kind of freak. (Representing Michigan well!) And then Maglio’s home run. Unbelievable. And now we found ourselves in the World Series. It was over a conversation with my best friend where he asked, “So are you coming to the World Series or what?” The thought really had not crossed my mind, but through some supportive conversation with by wife, she convinced me to go. (She is an incredible woman…) While we had clicked our mouse like crazy at 10 AM on Monday morning before the series, we were not one of the lucky ones to get tickets. (By the way, this ticket system that we have is messed up. I will cry injustice here.) We didn’t get tickets, but I flew home anyway. I knew that I needed to be with these people that had experienced this unusual connection through the “magic” of the Detroit Tigers. I took the red eye on Thursday night to get home for one of the weekend games. My dad and I cheered as we counted down the seconds on Ebay. Nobody overbid us and we were going to game two on Sunday night! I tried to give him the money for my ticket, but he made me promise that if the tigers ever return to world series, that I would have to pay and take him and his grandson to the game. I hope that I have to pay for those tickets one day. So my father and I went. We cheered. We ate hot dogs and drank 8 dollar beers. We won and we danced. Like a couple of fat white guys, we danced. And then we lost. And then my mom found out that her brain was healed. And then we lost again. And my brother in law and I talked. And then we lost again. As the Cardinals opened bottles of champagne, I, sitting in my overpriced, 500 square foot apartment in Los Angeles, open one more beer to celebrate you, the 2006 Detroit Tigers. I guess the point behind me writing you this letter is to say thank you. Thank you for your story this year and how it intertwined with my story. My wife and I have been through so much and you have given us a template in which to relate, even through our stuff. I feel like we all know that baseball is more than three outs and nine innings. It is about hope and surprise and tears and laughter and pain and winning and losing and home runs going foul and broken bat base hits and errors and more errors and relationships and long hair and rain and cold and warmth and time and timelessness and beauty and finally, baseball is about the absorption of life. Baseball is about life and celebrating all of the wonderful intricacies behind the mystery of what is really going on around us. Thank you, Detroit Tigers, for giving us the space to more fully celebrate this transcendent thing that we are all intertwined in. Thank you for giving us the space to celebrate life.