Miguel Cabrera slammed his bat in disgust. He had to run until the ball was caught, but it was pointless, just going through the motions, which is pretty much the Tigers’ offense in this World Series. The bases had been loaded, Cabrera could have given the Tigers a lead or a tie (or here’s an idea: How about a RUN?).
Instead he popped up harmlessly. Story of the night. And as he and three teammates circled the bases like ducks in a penny arcade, you could feel the juice dripping from this game, this series and this season.
Notown. Detroit was blanked Saturday night, losing again by a score of 2-0, the first time in 46 years a team has suffered back-to-back shutouts in the Fall Classic. The Tigers have no wins in this series, no leads in this series, no spark in this series, and, quite likely, no chance in this series. They were trampled in Game 1, handcuffed in Game 2 and unplugged in Game 3. What’s left? A beheading?
“We’ve been shutout for 18 innings,” manager Jim Leyland said after the defeat. “It’s pretty hard to win a game.”
The shame of it is, for its first World Series contest in six years, everything in downtown Detroit seemed at full wattage Saturday night – the neon signs, the loudspeakers, the guy who bangs bongo drums on Montcalm – everything except the Tigers’ bats.
Those were dimmer than a dying flashlight. The Tigers, after two sound defeats in San Francisco, were hoping the return to Comerica Park would make a difference. After all, they were 4-0 here in this postseason, right?
But the park didn’t help, the crowd didn’t help, the DH didn’t help, home cooking didn’t help. In the end, you either hit the ball or you don’t. The rest is just math.
And the math adds up badly. They have gone 18 innings without a run, 16 innings without an extra-base hit, their sluggers have no home runs, and after being shut out twice all season, they’ve now been shut out twice in three days.
And they are down three games to none.
“We’d love to be swinging the bats,” said Delmon Young, who was hitless in Game 3. “But all postseason we haven’t really swung the bats. We hit at the right time against Oakland. And New York looked like us right now.”
Oh, God. Don’t say that. We look like the Yankees?
Notown.
Load ’em up …
How strange. Remember, the Tigers were supposed to have a huge edge in slugging in this World Series. That was their thing, right? San Francisco had the magic? Detroit had the muscle?
But all night Saturday, the muscle was soft, and barely a ball was hit that even threatened extra bases. When, thanks to a walk or a single, runs were actually possible, the Tigers were like magicians whose tricks were broken.
“Is this your card?” they seemed to say.
“No,” the crowd responded.
“Is THIS your card?”
“Uh…nope.”
Missed chances? How about the first inning – two men on, one out, the mighty Prince Fielder at the plate. What happens? Fielder grounds into a double play. Inning over.
How about the third inning? Two men on, one out again, this time for Quintin Berry. What happens? Berry taps the first pitch for another double play, inning over.
How about the fifth inning? Bases loaded, one out for Berry again.
He strikes out.
Bases loaded for Cabrera.
He pops out.
How about the eighth inning? Cabrera leads off and grounds out. Fielder strikes out on three pitches. One batter later, Andy Dirks strikes out on four pitches.
For those of you scoring at home, this how you don’t score at the park.
Strand ’em …
All told the Tigers stranded nine runners. Fielder was 0-for-4. Young was 0-for-3. Cabrera was 1-for-4. None of them has an RBI since Game 1.
The only thing more mystifying than the fizzle of Detroit’s hitters may have been the performance of pitcher Anibal Sanchez. The Tiger who last week celebrated his three-month anniversary with the club, had been asked, essentially, to save the season by virtue of his Game 3 start.
“I have total confidence in him,” Leyland said before the game.
And he seemed justified in the first inning, a pretty easy, 15-pitch frame.
And then came the second inning. Sanchez, I swear, came out attached to someone else’s arm. He walked the first batter he faced, Hunter Pence, on four pitches. Four pitches? Pence then stole second. He went to third on a wild pitch by Sanchez (it was high and sailed away, where did THAT come from?) and he ran home on a whopping triple by Gregor Blanco that found the wide-open spaces of right-centerfield.
Blanco himself would eventually score – on the 30th pitch of the inning thrown by Sanchez, a sliced hit by the No.9 hitter – the No.9 hitter? – Brandon Crawford, that was misplayed by a charging Austin Jackson and turned into a double.
What happened? Sanchez, after looking so good, was suddenly pitching like a guy who needed glasses. Balls bounced. They landed far from Alex Avila’s intended target. He was irregular and unsteady, as if he were pitching on a moving boat.
“I think he was overthrowing,” Avila would later say. “He just kind of lost control on his fastballs for a bit.”
But what happened next was equally strange. After surrendering those two runs – and raising questions of a mysterious sudden injury – Sanchez came out and pitched the third inning as if the second never happened. He did the same in the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh, scattering a few harmless hits and striking out batters to end frames.
The fact is, Sanchez, the losing pitcher, actually lasted longer than did Ryan Vogelsong, the winner. Outside of that one, weird, uneven inning, he was, well, unflappable.
And they STILL lost.
Notown.
More Giants mojo
The Giants, meanwhile, continued their clinic of flawless defense and outstanding pitching. As good as the Tigers were supposed to be on the mound, so far, let’s be honest, these guys have been better.
Vogelsong is another amazing Giants story, a guy who once went seven years between major league starts. A one-time college star at Kutztown University (where?) he was drafted by the Giants, then bounced all over – including three years in Japan. He finally came back to this country at age 32, when a lot of guys who haven’t made it are giving up on the game. Vogelsong didn’t. Eventually, he signed back with San Francisco, a minor league contract, and was called up when Barry Zito got hurt last year.
And here he was, now 35, pitching on Saturday Night at The Series, and continuing a string of impressive postseason performances. He’d given up one run a game in his three starts, and had exactly six days between each of them.
In other words, a pitcher in perfect rhythm.
His beat went on Saturday – 52/3 innings, no runs.
And maybe, in the end, rhythm is what this is all about. We saw it before, in 2006, when the Tigers had a week off between the American League Championship Series and the World Series and never seemed to find their groove. And here again, in 2012, San Francisco never had to break stride after the NLCS, while Detroit was playing simulated games with minor-leaguers.
“What do you tell your team?” someone asked Leyland.
“Well, you don’t really have to tell them anything,” he said. “They can count. They know they’re down, three games to zero.”
It’s the worst kept secret in town. By the end of this game, Comerica Park felt like a waiting room. Saturday night had been ripe for excitement, but it didn’t happen, and the Tigers could use a Sunday prayer. It’s cold and getting colder. Only perfection can save them now.
Contact Mitch Albom: 313-223-4581 or malbom@freepress.com. Catch “The Mitch Albom Show” 5-7 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760).
Miguel Cabrera slammed his bat in disgust. He had to run until the ball was caught, but it was pointless, just going through the motions, which is pretty much the Tigers’ offense in this World Series. The bases had been loaded, Cabrera could have given the Tigers a lead or a tie (or here’s an idea: How about a RUN?).
Instead he popped up harmlessly. Story of the night. And as he and three teammates circled the bases like ducks in a penny arcade, you could feel the juice dripping from this game, this series and this season.
Notown. Detroit was blanked Saturday night, losing again by a score of 2-0, the first time in 46 years a team has suffered back-to-back shutouts in the Fall Classic. The Tigers have no wins in this series, no leads in this series, no spark in this series, and, quite likely, no chance in this series. They were trampled in Game 1, handcuffed in Game 2 and unplugged in Game 3. What’s left? A beheading?
“We’ve been shutout for 18 innings,” manager Jim Leyland said after the defeat. “It’s pretty hard to win a game.”
The shame of it is, for its first World Series contest in six years, everything in downtown Detroit seemed at full wattage Saturday night – the neon signs, the loudspeakers, the guy who bangs bongo drums on Montcalm – everything except the Tigers’ bats.
Those were dimmer than a dying flashlight. The Tigers, after two sound defeats in San Francisco, were hoping the return to Comerica Park would make a difference. After all, they were 4-0 here in this postseason, right?
But the park didn’t help, the crowd didn’t help, the DH didn’t help, home cooking didn’t help. In the end, you either hit the ball or you don’t. The rest is just math.
And the math adds up badly. They have gone 18 innings without a run, 16 innings without an extra-base hit, their sluggers have no home runs, and after being shut out twice all season, they’ve now been shut out twice in three days.
And they are down three games to none.
“We’d love to be swinging the bats,” said Delmon Young, who was hitless in Game 3. “But all postseason we haven’t really swung the bats. We hit at the right time against Oakland. And New York looked like us right now.”
Oh, God. Don’t say that. We look like the Yankees?
Notown.
Load ’em up …
How strange. Remember, the Tigers were supposed to have a huge edge in slugging in this World Series. That was their thing, right? San Francisco had the magic? Detroit had the muscle?
But all night Saturday, the muscle was soft, and barely a ball was hit that even threatened extra bases. When, thanks to a walk or a single, runs were actually possible, the Tigers were like magicians whose tricks were broken.
“Is this your card?” they seemed to say.
“No,” the crowd responded.
“Is THIS your card?”
“Uh…nope.”
Missed chances? How about the first inning – two men on, one out, the mighty Prince Fielder at the plate. What happens? Fielder grounds into a double play. Inning over.
How about the third inning? Two men on, one out again, this time for Quintin Berry. What happens? Berry taps the first pitch for another double play, inning over.
How about the fifth inning? Bases loaded, one out for Berry again.
He strikes out.
Bases loaded for Cabrera.
He pops out.
How about the eighth inning? Cabrera leads off and grounds out. Fielder strikes out on three pitches. One batter later, Andy Dirks strikes out on four pitches.
For those of you scoring at home, this how you don’t score at the park.
Strand ’em …
All told the Tigers stranded nine runners. Fielder was 0-for-4. Young was 0-for-3. Cabrera was 1-for-4. None of them has an RBI since Game 1.
The only thing more mystifying than the fizzle of Detroit’s hitters may have been the performance of pitcher Anibal Sanchez. The Tiger who last week celebrated his three-month anniversary with the club, had been asked, essentially, to save the season by virtue of his Game 3 start.
“I have total confidence in him,” Leyland said before the game.
And he seemed justified in the first inning, a pretty easy, 15-pitch frame.
And then came the second inning. Sanchez, I swear, came out attached to someone else’s arm. He walked the first batter he faced, Hunter Pence, on four pitches. Four pitches? Pence then stole second. He went to third on a wild pitch by Sanchez (it was high and sailed away, where did THAT come from?) and he ran home on a whopping triple by Gregor Blanco that found the wide-open spaces of right-centerfield.
Blanco himself would eventually score – on the 30th pitch of the inning thrown by Sanchez, a sliced hit by the No.9 hitter – the No.9 hitter? – Brandon Crawford, that was misplayed by a charging Austin Jackson and turned into a double.
What happened? Sanchez, after looking so good, was suddenly pitching like a guy who needed glasses. Balls bounced. They landed far from Alex Avila’s intended target. He was irregular and unsteady, as if he were pitching on a moving boat.
“I think he was overthrowing,” Avila would later say. “He just kind of lost control on his fastballs for a bit.”
But what happened next was equally strange. After surrendering those two runs – and raising questions of a mysterious sudden injury – Sanchez came out and pitched the third inning as if the second never happened. He did the same in the fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh, scattering a few harmless hits and striking out batters to end frames.
The fact is, Sanchez, the losing pitcher, actually lasted longer than did Ryan Vogelsong, the winner. Outside of that one, weird, uneven inning, he was, well, unflappable.
And they STILL lost.
Notown.
More Giants mojo
The Giants, meanwhile, continued their clinic of flawless defense and outstanding pitching. As good as the Tigers were supposed to be on the mound, so far, let’s be honest, these guys have been better.
Vogelsong is another amazing Giants story, a guy who once went seven years between major league starts. A one-time college star at Kutztown University (where?) he was drafted by the Giants, then bounced all over – including three years in Japan. He finally came back to this country at age 32, when a lot of guys who haven’t made it are giving up on the game. Vogelsong didn’t. Eventually, he signed back with San Francisco, a minor league contract, and was called up when Barry Zito got hurt last year.
And here he was, now 35, pitching on Saturday Night at The Series, and continuing a string of impressive postseason performances. He’d given up one run a game in his three starts, and had exactly six days between each of them.
In other words, a pitcher in perfect rhythm.
His beat went on Saturday – 52/3 innings, no runs.
And maybe, in the end, rhythm is what this is all about. We saw it before, in 2006, when the Tigers had a week off between the American League Championship Series and the World Series and never seemed to find their groove. And here again, in 2012, San Francisco never had to break stride after the NLCS, while Detroit was playing simulated games with minor-leaguers.
“What do you tell your team?” someone asked Leyland.
“Well, you don’t really have to tell them anything,” he said. “They can count. They know they’re down, three games to zero.”
It’s the worst kept secret in town. By the end of this game, Comerica Park felt like a waiting room. Saturday night had been ripe for excitement, but it didn’t happen, and the Tigers could use a Sunday prayer. It’s cold and getting colder. Only perfection can save them now.
Contact Mitch Albom: 313-223-4581 or malbom@freepress.com. Catch “The Mitch Albom Show” 5-7 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760).
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