Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains.
Sometimes it doesn’t even rain.
Max Scherzer stood in the Tigers’ locker room, looking all-too refreshed. He was supposed to pitch Game 4 on Wednesday night at Comerica Park. Now he was pulling on a sweatshirt. His dream deferred, he was going home – even though he was yet to see a raindrop.
“Have you ever been rained out of a game when it didn’t rain?” someone asked him
“Yeah. Last year in the ALCS, actually. We were in Texas. They called it at 3 o’clock. It never rained.”
He smirked.
“And I was supposed to pitch.”
Deja plu.
(OK. That was a French reference. Either you got it or you didn’t. It’s a rainout column. We use what we can.)
For the record, it did eventually start pouring at Comerica Park, although by that time, the place was dead empty. Fans who came to this game for its scheduled 8:07 p.m. start scratched their heads as the minutes passed and they watched nothing happen. Just a bunch of people standing around. It looked like a shift break. The scoreboard said it was a rain delay – really, trust us! – until finally, perhaps to prove that this wasn’t some weird practical joke, they posted a weather map that showed this big green glob moving toward the word “Detroit.”
We were either going to get rained on or eaten by Pac-Man.
“When did they first tell you?” Scherzer was asked.
“About 10 minutes before I went outside to warm up,” he said. “It was like 7:20. They said, ÃÂGame’s delayed. Rain’s gonna come at 9.”
Did you know you were done?
“You can put two and two together.”
Yes. Two and two equals deja deux.
And I have overused the French stuff.
The rainmakers again
Poor Scherzer. All the karma, all the emotion, all building to his appearance on the mound against the Yankees, who are down to their last hurrah in this so-far lopsided series, which still sits at 3-0 Detroit. Scherzer had a chance to be the hero Wednesday night, to lead the leap at the end of a victory, and bounce with his teammates into the World Series.
Instead, he had to go home, as did the rest of the Tigers. Playoff Interruptus. It’s a weird place, a clubhouse after a game that never was. Players come out of the shower who didn’t even need a shower.
I saw Justin Verlander eating by himself in the food area, perhaps because no one was expecting him home for hours. Delmon Young kept shrugging off questions about the rain by saying, “We’re Big Leaguers. We get rained on.” I hesitated to tell him that small leaguers like the rest of us get rained on, too. Anyhow, he said he had spent the whole time “on Instagram,” a photo sharing and social network program. Not sure what he was sharing pictures of.
Possibly the lack of rain.
Meanwhile, Tigers fans dragged home hoping whatever magic the local lads had been brewing doesn’t get diluted by the delay. The Tigers are no strangers to the herky-jerky of October. Last year, it seemed that wherever they went the rain followed, all but singlehandedly ruining Verlander’s chances at excellence. Back in 2006, their last appearance in the Fall Classic, they had to sit around for a week waiting for Game 1 to start against the Cardinals. By the time it came, the Tigers were as creaky as the Tin Man on the way to Oz.
Those strange Yankees
But I wouldn’t worry about this slight setback. The fundamental dynamic of this American League Championship Series remains the same: The Tigers keep sending out great pitchers, and the Yankees keep benching their stars.
Really. The Yanks were sitting Curtis Granderson on Wednesday. And Alex Rodriguez. The night before they sat Rodriguez and Nick Swisher. They are already without Derek Jeter, who’s injured. It’s almost as if they gather in the dugout, let the superstars begin to run out, and yell, “Not so fast…”
The Tigers, meanwhile, are sticking with what got them this far. That means deep starting pitching like Scherzer, with Doug Fister, who pitched shutout ball in Game 1, set to go on Friday, if necessary, and Anibal Sanchez, who threw shutout ball in Game 2, set for Saturday if the series returns to New York.
Oh. And if it should go seven, Verlander would be ready.
But CC Sabathia would not.
That may be the only real effect of the rain. Sabathia, slated to pitch Wednesday and now set to go this afternoon, would likely only pitch this one game and lack enough recovery time to go on Sunday night. Oh – and Phil Coke, Detroit’s closing hero of Games 2 and 3 – could be rested enough to be available for today’s rescheduled Game 4 where he was not available Wednesday night.
Of course, many feel this series won’t be going much longer no matter what. The Yankees had their openings – Game 1, bottom of the ninth, Game 3, top of the ninth – but they never sailed through them. Coming back to win four straight against the Tigers’ pitching staff would require a complete suspension of logic, or four straight appearances by Jose Valverde.
Not gonna happen.
They came. They sat. They went home. What happens to a dream deferred, Langston Hughes once asked?
You reschedule it.
“We’re baseball players. We get rained out all the time,” Scherzer said, as he readied to go.
“And what do you take from that?” someone asked.
He grinned. “Nothing.”
Well. Maybe an umbrella.
Contact Mitch Albom: 313-223-4581 or malbom@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @mitchalbom.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains.
Sometimes it doesn’t even rain.
Max Scherzer stood in the Tigers’ locker room, looking all-too refreshed. He was supposed to pitch Game 4 on Wednesday night at Comerica Park. Now he was pulling on a sweatshirt. His dream deferred, he was going home – even though he was yet to see a raindrop.
“Have you ever been rained out of a game when it didn’t rain?” someone asked him
“Yeah. Last year in the ALCS, actually. We were in Texas. They called it at 3 o’clock. It never rained.”
He smirked.
“And I was supposed to pitch.”
Deja plu.
(OK. That was a French reference. Either you got it or you didn’t. It’s a rainout column. We use what we can.)
For the record, it did eventually start pouring at Comerica Park, although by that time, the place was dead empty. Fans who came to this game for its scheduled 8:07 p.m. start scratched their heads as the minutes passed and they watched nothing happen. Just a bunch of people standing around. It looked like a shift break. The scoreboard said it was a rain delay – really, trust us! – until finally, perhaps to prove that this wasn’t some weird practical joke, they posted a weather map that showed this big green glob moving toward the word “Detroit.”
We were either going to get rained on or eaten by Pac-Man.
“When did they first tell you?” Scherzer was asked.
“About 10 minutes before I went outside to warm up,” he said. “It was like 7:20. They said, ÃÂGame’s delayed. Rain’s gonna come at 9.”
Did you know you were done?
“You can put two and two together.”
Yes. Two and two equals deja deux.
And I have overused the French stuff.
The rainmakers again
Poor Scherzer. All the karma, all the emotion, all building to his appearance on the mound against the Yankees, who are down to their last hurrah in this so-far lopsided series, which still sits at 3-0 Detroit. Scherzer had a chance to be the hero Wednesday night, to lead the leap at the end of a victory, and bounce with his teammates into the World Series.
Instead, he had to go home, as did the rest of the Tigers. Playoff Interruptus. It’s a weird place, a clubhouse after a game that never was. Players come out of the shower who didn’t even need a shower.
I saw Justin Verlander eating by himself in the food area, perhaps because no one was expecting him home for hours. Delmon Young kept shrugging off questions about the rain by saying, “We’re Big Leaguers. We get rained on.” I hesitated to tell him that small leaguers like the rest of us get rained on, too. Anyhow, he said he had spent the whole time “on Instagram,” a photo sharing and social network program. Not sure what he was sharing pictures of.
Possibly the lack of rain.
Meanwhile, Tigers fans dragged home hoping whatever magic the local lads had been brewing doesn’t get diluted by the delay. The Tigers are no strangers to the herky-jerky of October. Last year, it seemed that wherever they went the rain followed, all but singlehandedly ruining Verlander’s chances at excellence. Back in 2006, their last appearance in the Fall Classic, they had to sit around for a week waiting for Game 1 to start against the Cardinals. By the time it came, the Tigers were as creaky as the Tin Man on the way to Oz.
Those strange Yankees
But I wouldn’t worry about this slight setback. The fundamental dynamic of this American League Championship Series remains the same: The Tigers keep sending out great pitchers, and the Yankees keep benching their stars.
Really. The Yanks were sitting Curtis Granderson on Wednesday. And Alex Rodriguez. The night before they sat Rodriguez and Nick Swisher. They are already without Derek Jeter, who’s injured. It’s almost as if they gather in the dugout, let the superstars begin to run out, and yell, “Not so fast…”
The Tigers, meanwhile, are sticking with what got them this far. That means deep starting pitching like Scherzer, with Doug Fister, who pitched shutout ball in Game 1, set to go on Friday, if necessary, and Anibal Sanchez, who threw shutout ball in Game 2, set for Saturday if the series returns to New York.
Oh. And if it should go seven, Verlander would be ready.
But CC Sabathia would not.
That may be the only real effect of the rain. Sabathia, slated to pitch Wednesday and now set to go this afternoon, would likely only pitch this one game and lack enough recovery time to go on Sunday night. Oh – and Phil Coke, Detroit’s closing hero of Games 2 and 3 – could be rested enough to be available for today’s rescheduled Game 4 where he was not available Wednesday night.
Of course, many feel this series won’t be going much longer no matter what. The Yankees had their openings – Game 1, bottom of the ninth, Game 3, top of the ninth – but they never sailed through them. Coming back to win four straight against the Tigers’ pitching staff would require a complete suspension of logic, or four straight appearances by Jose Valverde.
Not gonna happen.
They came. They sat. They went home. What happens to a dream deferred, Langston Hughes once asked?
You reschedule it.
“We’re baseball players. We get rained out all the time,” Scherzer said, as he readied to go.
“And what do you take from that?” someone asked.
He grinned. “Nothing.”
Well. Maybe an umbrella.
Contact Mitch Albom: 313-223-4581 or malbom@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @mitchalbom.
0 Comments