I grew up in Detroit -- not the 'burbs -- DEtroit, baby; NW Side; Cody High. Drag racing my first Sportster down Telegraph Road. Blowin' the doors off GTO's on Woodward Ave. Countless fond memories of many, many days taking the bus down Michigan Ave. to sit in the 50 cent bleachers and cheer for Al Kaline, Bill Freehan and all the great Tiger players in the 1960's. The Tigers were my first baseball love. Only Tiger baseball cards (duplicate Topps, of course) graced my bicycle spokes, clipped on with a clothespin to make that blub, blub, blub "motorcycle" sound when I was a little kid.
1968, my junior year in high school, the year after the horrible riots, and the way the Tigers came back to beat the seemingly invincible Cardinals that year, was especially meaningful -- not just for baseball fans, but for the whole riot torn city. I was at the game when they clinched the pennant that year on Don Wert's ground ball single in the 9th. Yes, we stormed the field. Yes, I still have a piece of forest green 2x4 that once was part of the dugout ledge at Tiger Stadium. Yes, I still have my ticket stubs from that game and my tattered old homemade scorebook I used to keep track of every pitch in that 1968 world series when we came back from a 3-1 deficit and Mickey Lolich pitched all nine innings on two days' rest to beat the great Bob Gibson, and yes, I skipped school 4 different days to watch every game, even those weekday day games.
But now I live in MO. In fact, I've lived here now longer than my first 21 years in Detroit. I live with a lifelong Missourian; she was born and bred in St. Louis. The Cardinals are my adopted team -- certainly my NL home team. I know them better; I watch most every one of their games on TV or hear them on the radio. I agonized with them through the whole horrible second half of this year when it seemed like half the team was down with injuries; when Albert ripped his back muscles, when Eckstein blew out his hammy, when Izzy went down for good and left us without a closer. "Us," I said. Yep. The Cards have been my team for a long time, now.
Still, I really, really wanted a reprise of the great '68 series this year... Cards v. Tigers. But at the beginning of these playoffs, I would have bet a lot of money against that happening. Both teams ended the year in horrible slumps. Who imagined the young, wacky Tigers could tame the great Yankees, the hated Yankees, those Yankees who ruined so many of my boyhood autumns, those seasoned pros with the fiercest lineup in over 50 years? Who could have guessed they would sweep the A's in 4 straight? And in the NL... the Cards? They weren't supposed to win a game, let alone pitch and claw their way through both of their series!
So, tonight I got my wish.
Geez. Now what?
How do I choose? Bud v. Stroh. Gotta' go with Stroh's. Detroit River v. Missouri River. No contest -- Big Muddy. Red v. Blue. Aha! I always vote Blue!
I'm leaning Blue.
Go Tigers! No, wait. Go Cards! No, wait... I can hear my late Dad spinning in his grave... Yikes.
Hoo boy. I hope it goes seven games.
Whaddya' think?