SAN FRANCISCO – How on earth was Doug Fister still standing? How was he not lying in an ambulance being raced through the streets with a siren blasting? That was a baseball, wasn’t it? That thing that screamed off Gregor Blanco’s bat and hit Fister square on the side of his head? The ball caromed high into centerfield, while everyone in the sellout crowd for this Game 2 of the World Series took part in a collective “ooooh!”
Everyone except Fister, who acted as if a mosquito had just buzzed past.
“Doug, you OK?” the home plate umpire asked Thursday night.
“Yeah.”
Yeah? That’s it? Yeah? As in “You wanna see a movie?” “Yeah.” THAT “Yeah”? He’d just been hit in the noggin by a BASEBALL! The conversation was caught by TV microphones, as Jim Leyland and his staff gathered around their lanky pitcher.
“Where are you?” the trainer asked.
“San Francisco, Game 2,” Fister answered.
“What inning?”
“Second.”
“How many outs?”
“Two outs.”
Eventually, everyone shrugged and left. And Fister, like a redwood that had just taken the blade of an ax, held his form.
It proved to be the Tigers’ best stand of the night.
Coming home, with a headache. The Tigers were shut down and shut out. Final score, 2-0. They got grit and guts from Fister, their starting pitcher – he lasted until the seventh, holding the Giants scoreless – but he left without a run to defend him, and he took the loss while watching from the dugout.
One night after Detroit watched three home runs off the bat of a Giant, they stood helpless watching a dribbling bunt that would not go foul load the bases. The Giants a run in the seventh without an RBI and a run in the eighth without a hit.
Small Ball? Yes. But Small Ball still beats No Ball.
Detroit trails this World Series, two games to none. And if Justin Verlander couldn’t heat up in Game 1, the Tigers’ mighty bats were the cold culprits in Game 2, falling flat to a pitcher who shares a name with the mermaid from “Splash.”
Coming home, with a headache.
No pop in the bats
“This definitely feels a whole lot better than having our backs against the wall,” said Madison Bumgarner told Fox TV after his victory. And while it was surprising, no one should be totally shocked by Bumgarner’s night, even if they’re amused that a guy with that name could do it. Remember, the last time Bumgarner pitched in a World Series was two years ago, when he was 21 years old, the fifth youngest pitcher to start a Fall Classic game. All he did was throw eight shutout innings in a 4-0 San Francisco victory.
But he was so much younger then! Now, at the ripe old age of 23, he was coming off two bad postseason defeats, a 9-0 loss to Cincinnati and a 6-4 defeat in the NLCS opener against St. Louis.
As a result, Bumgarner was supposed to be the prayer of the series for the Giants. A guy who would no doubt need run support, right?
Instead, the pitcher who lives on a North Carolina farm manhandled the Tigers as if he were raised on Krypton. He threw seventh shutout frames, had eight strikeouts, surrendered two hits, and made the Detroit batters look like Popeye on a no-greens diet.
Much of it was Bumgarner’s crafty pitching. But the Tigers hitters can’t get a pass. Cincinnati and St Louis managed 15 hits in their two playoff games against Bumgarner. The Tigers on Thursday had… two?
Come on. There is no snap or crackle in the Tigers’ pop.
There’s no pop, either.
You saw this at its worst in the seventh inning, the score still knotted at 0-0. Miguel Cabrera led off. He drew a walk. OK. It’s baserunner, right? Maybe a rally of some kind? Finally?
Instead Prince Fielder came up and tapped harmlessly to the pitcher, throw to second, back to first – double play, threat over.
Delmon Young finished the inning with a facile groundout.
So much for lumber.
The Tigers can’t win this way. They didn’t get pitching or hitting in Game 1, they didn’t get hitting in Game 2. The temptation is to say it’s rust, the layoff is taking its effect. And maybe that is so.
But there’s something else. There are two teams in this thing, remember? And while this may be a stadium that serves the media ice cream sundaes with Ghirardelli chocolate, a place that sells peanut butter and marshmallow paninis, a Chardonnay crowd in a ballpark by the bay, they still know how to play baseball.
Good baseball.
Fundamental, catch the ball, make the play, don’t take chances baseball.
You saw it in the defense Thursday night. You saw it in way they battled pitches. You saw it in that perfect bunt by Blanco that loaded the bases – and led to a run on a double-play grounder.
Blanco again? Geez. When he isn’t hitting our guys in the head, he’s slapping them in the face.
Trouble afoot, too
Meanwhile, the Tigers’ hitting woes were worsened by baserunning gaffes. Fielder is a great many things; track star is not one of them. But in the second inning, coach Gene Lamont waved Fielder from first base all the way around third (not the tightest of curves, mind you) on a ground double by Delmon Young. As Fielder charged the plate he fell into a slide. The ball arrived perfectly and catcher Buster Posey muscled down for a tag. Fielder’s slide was bad; his left leg did not extend, nor (and given his 300-pound body you understand this) did he attempt to curl his frame from a tag. Posey swept his glove like a tennis backhand, laid it on Fielder before any part of him touched the plate.
The Tigers’ first baserunner of the night was out at the plate.
Later in the game, Omar Infante got caught stealing when he left first base too soon. It ended the inning with Young – the Tigers’ best RBI man lately – still at the plate.
In a regular season, when the bats are on fire, you survive such moments. But in the World Series, against a team like the star-kissed Giants, every run matters.
Every play, every decision.
San Francisco is getting more of them right than Detroit.
There is little need to state the obvious now. The Giants held home serve while using their two least reliable pitchers. They come to Detroit halfway to the crown with their two best hurlers handling Games 3 and 4.
The Tigers, meanwhile, burned Verlander but got no sparks, and there is no guarantee he will pitch again this year. They had hoped to return home with a split. Instead, it’s win four of the remaining five, or go home unsatisfied.
The Tigers swing the heavier lumber, but their sluggers are yet to do anything indelible. In two games, Cabrera, Fielder and Young have a total of five hits and one run batted in. They can’t win that way. Fister pitched a beautiful six innings, but the Tigers’ relief pitching was unreliable – and they can’t lose that way.
Coming home, but with a headache. A really bad headache. Maybe a familiar pillow and a day off will change the mojo of this series. Nothing else has worked.
Contact Mitch Albom: 313-223-4581 or malbom@freepress.com. Catch “The Mitch Albom Show” 5-7 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760). Follow him on Twitter @mitchalbom. To read his recent columns, go to www.freep.com/mitch.
SAN FRANCISCO – How on earth was Doug Fister still standing? How was he not lying in an ambulance being raced through the streets with a siren blasting? That was a baseball, wasn’t it? That thing that screamed off Gregor Blanco’s bat and hit Fister square on the side of his head? The ball caromed high into centerfield, while everyone in the sellout crowd for this Game 2 of the World Series took part in a collective “ooooh!”
Everyone except Fister, who acted as if a mosquito had just buzzed past.
“Doug, you OK?” the home plate umpire asked Thursday night.
“Yeah.”
Yeah? That’s it? Yeah? As in “You wanna see a movie?” “Yeah.” THAT “Yeah”? He’d just been hit in the noggin by a BASEBALL! The conversation was caught by TV microphones, as Jim Leyland and his staff gathered around their lanky pitcher.
“Where are you?” the trainer asked.
“San Francisco, Game 2,” Fister answered.
“What inning?”
“Second.”
“How many outs?”
“Two outs.”
Eventually, everyone shrugged and left. And Fister, like a redwood that had just taken the blade of an ax, held his form.
It proved to be the Tigers’ best stand of the night.
Coming home, with a headache. The Tigers were shut down and shut out. Final score, 2-0. They got grit and guts from Fister, their starting pitcher – he lasted until the seventh, holding the Giants scoreless – but he left without a run to defend him, and he took the loss while watching from the dugout.
One night after Detroit watched three home runs off the bat of a Giant, they stood helpless watching a dribbling bunt that would not go foul load the bases. The Giants a run in the seventh without an RBI and a run in the eighth without a hit.
Small Ball? Yes. But Small Ball still beats No Ball.
Detroit trails this World Series, two games to none. And if Justin Verlander couldn’t heat up in Game 1, the Tigers’ mighty bats were the cold culprits in Game 2, falling flat to a pitcher who shares a name with the mermaid from “Splash.”
Coming home, with a headache.
No pop in the bats
“This definitely feels a whole lot better than having our backs against the wall,” said Madison Bumgarner told Fox TV after his victory. And while it was surprising, no one should be totally shocked by Bumgarner’s night, even if they’re amused that a guy with that name could do it. Remember, the last time Bumgarner pitched in a World Series was two years ago, when he was 21 years old, the fifth youngest pitcher to start a Fall Classic game. All he did was throw eight shutout innings in a 4-0 San Francisco victory.
But he was so much younger then! Now, at the ripe old age of 23, he was coming off two bad postseason defeats, a 9-0 loss to Cincinnati and a 6-4 defeat in the NLCS opener against St. Louis.
As a result, Bumgarner was supposed to be the prayer of the series for the Giants. A guy who would no doubt need run support, right?
Instead, the pitcher who lives on a North Carolina farm manhandled the Tigers as if he were raised on Krypton. He threw seventh shutout frames, had eight strikeouts, surrendered two hits, and made the Detroit batters look like Popeye on a no-greens diet.
Much of it was Bumgarner’s crafty pitching. But the Tigers hitters can’t get a pass. Cincinnati and St Louis managed 15 hits in their two playoff games against Bumgarner. The Tigers on Thursday had… two?
Come on. There is no snap or crackle in the Tigers’ pop.
There’s no pop, either.
You saw this at its worst in the seventh inning, the score still knotted at 0-0. Miguel Cabrera led off. He drew a walk. OK. It’s baserunner, right? Maybe a rally of some kind? Finally?
Instead Prince Fielder came up and tapped harmlessly to the pitcher, throw to second, back to first – double play, threat over.
Delmon Young finished the inning with a facile groundout.
So much for lumber.
The Tigers can’t win this way. They didn’t get pitching or hitting in Game 1, they didn’t get hitting in Game 2. The temptation is to say it’s rust, the layoff is taking its effect. And maybe that is so.
But there’s something else. There are two teams in this thing, remember? And while this may be a stadium that serves the media ice cream sundaes with Ghirardelli chocolate, a place that sells peanut butter and marshmallow paninis, a Chardonnay crowd in a ballpark by the bay, they still know how to play baseball.
Good baseball.
Fundamental, catch the ball, make the play, don’t take chances baseball.
You saw it in the defense Thursday night. You saw it in way they battled pitches. You saw it in that perfect bunt by Blanco that loaded the bases – and led to a run on a double-play grounder.
Blanco again? Geez. When he isn’t hitting our guys in the head, he’s slapping them in the face.
Trouble afoot, too
Meanwhile, the Tigers’ hitting woes were worsened by baserunning gaffes. Fielder is a great many things; track star is not one of them. But in the second inning, coach Gene Lamont waved Fielder from first base all the way around third (not the tightest of curves, mind you) on a ground double by Delmon Young. As Fielder charged the plate he fell into a slide. The ball arrived perfectly and catcher Buster Posey muscled down for a tag. Fielder’s slide was bad; his left leg did not extend, nor (and given his 300-pound body you understand this) did he attempt to curl his frame from a tag. Posey swept his glove like a tennis backhand, laid it on Fielder before any part of him touched the plate.
The Tigers’ first baserunner of the night was out at the plate.
Later in the game, Omar Infante got caught stealing when he left first base too soon. It ended the inning with Young – the Tigers’ best RBI man lately – still at the plate.
In a regular season, when the bats are on fire, you survive such moments. But in the World Series, against a team like the star-kissed Giants, every run matters.
Every play, every decision.
San Francisco is getting more of them right than Detroit.
There is little need to state the obvious now. The Giants held home serve while using their two least reliable pitchers. They come to Detroit halfway to the crown with their two best hurlers handling Games 3 and 4.
The Tigers, meanwhile, burned Verlander but got no sparks, and there is no guarantee he will pitch again this year. They had hoped to return home with a split. Instead, it’s win four of the remaining five, or go home unsatisfied.
The Tigers swing the heavier lumber, but their sluggers are yet to do anything indelible. In two games, Cabrera, Fielder and Young have a total of five hits and one run batted in. They can’t win that way. Fister pitched a beautiful six innings, but the Tigers’ relief pitching was unreliable – and they can’t lose that way.
Coming home, but with a headache. A really bad headache. Maybe a familiar pillow and a day off will change the mojo of this series. Nothing else has worked.
Contact Mitch Albom: 313-223-4581 or malbom@freepress.com. Catch “The Mitch Albom Show” 5-7 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760). Follow him on Twitter @mitchalbom. To read his recent columns, go to www.freep.com/mitch.
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