By: Michelle Bir
As I sat in Turner Field Saturday night, surrounded by mostly Tigers fans, directly behind the Tigers dugout on the third base line. The last series played in that stadium, I am looking forward to a demoralizing stomp down that the Tigers are going to put on the Braves. We are, after all, in the hunt. I never got my “Tigers are awesome!” victory celebration while touting my new Verlander jersey. I did, however, realize one very important thing: The Detroit Tigers would be better off as golfers. My normal diatribe would be to blame all the Tigers woes squarely on the bullpen, where it normally belongs, not this time.
Offense. The Tigers lost to one of the worst team in baseball, in the hunt, in October. Swinging at balls that hit the ground more often than the glove. I am watching a completely punchless offense and paralyzed in anger as two on, no out, and Cabrera strikes out, in the top of the 8th. Is this not the moment in which we pay Cabrera $248,000,000 to deliver clutch results? I want a refund.
I’m not sure who was worse, Cabrera or what followed with J.D. Martinez. One out the count at 3-1 and J.D. Martinez goes golfing for one of the ugliest screwballs I had ever seen, making it 3-2, then grounding into a double play. This was the moment my head nearly exploded, and I realized the Tigers were done for the season. Half game behind Toronto and playing like absolute garbage.
Should have been easy wins in Atlanta, but they couldn’t follow through. They didn’t play like a playoff team, so they didn’t deserve to be a playoff team. So what’s next for this promising group of PGA golfers? I mean, they don’t even have the gravitas to be circus clowns.
Ausmus, fired? If the pitchforks come out and they start looking for someone to metaphorically sacrifice as payment to the baseball gods, will they look no further than Brad Ausmus? He is one serious fox, a solid dime, but his performance has been consistently inconsistent. He did hold it together with three rookies and a lineup plagued with injuries, but I don’t think that would be enough to save him this time. So, bye Brad, it’s been real nice staring at you all season, but it’s not me, it’s you.