Why I am a Self-Hating Tigers Fan

Posted on by admin by

larry-david-movie-hbo-img

By Jeff Moss
DetroitSportsRag@GMail.com
September 4, 2013

There are people out there (including in my own family) who have a theory that I am a self-hating Jew, their reasoning being that I am a devout atheist who utilitzes anti-Semitic terminology to disparage other Heebs (Michael RosenNebbish, for example.)

I also used to get thrown out of Temple Israel religious school for arguing asinine religious doctrine; I sympathize with the Palestinian people and don’t believe Israel is beyond reproach.  When you read this article it probably will be Rosh Hashanah; instead of sitting in a synagogue observing the High Holiday, I will be at a burned-out house trying to earn a living.

Look, I am NOT a self-hating Jew.  To quote notable meeskeit Larry David, I might hate myself, but it has nothing to do with my mother’s religion.   If there is any affiliation for which I loathe myself it would be my fandom of the Detroit Tigers.

I fucking love the Tigers and, if anything, I am over-the-top obsessed with the team’s success; I just despise pretty much EVERYTHING that goes along with being a fan of the franchise that dons the Olde English D.

How passionate am I about Detroit’s baseball team? 10,552 days have passed since the Tigers last won a World Series, and I STILL remember everything about that Sunday.

And I am not just talking about Kirk Gibson’s two home runs or Goose Gossage instructing known masturbating manager Dick Williams that he didn’t want to pitch around Gibby or even the postgame celebration that included cop cars being torched and tossed.

That Sunday was so important to me (and still the HIGHLIGHT of my life – sorry Melissa) that I can recall pretty much every minute detail of the moments leading up to Larry Herndon catching the last out off of Tony Gwynn’s bat.

Eating an early dinner that night at the Great Wall in Farmington Hills and anxiously passing the time by playing Pac-Man at the Chinese restaurant while downing Shirley Temples with those little drink umbrellas in them and then rushing back to 25405 Catalina in Southfield to watch Game 5 in my wood-paneled family room on a 25″ color TV.

(Yep, I remember every detail from that fall day.  Just don’t ask me what I had for lunch yesterday.)

That exhilarating moment at 7:41pm on October 14, 1984 is why I am willing to tolerate this team’s terrible anti-math manager, his abomination of a third base coach, the epically awful radio and television color commentators, the cuckolded print journalists who cover the organization and the atrocious fans who blindly support the team.

But days like Tuesday really, really test my Detroit baseball patience.  And make no mistake about it, the day that saw the Red Sox beat the Tigers 2-1 in an extremely aggravating loss was a Perfect Storm of everything that is torturous about this franchise.

Where do I even begin? With the member of the 1984 Tigers that ACTUALLY played (Tom Brookens) or the with the jackass who had 27 at-bats for the World Championship squad (Rod Allen) and actually wants you to think that he was a contributor to that squad.

I guess I will start with the insanely atrocious third base coach.  I mean, Gene Lamont was in the bottom two percent of all base coaches I have ever witnessed in my life.   Fatso was so terrible that he single-handedly changed the momentum of a WORLD SERIES when he sent his fellow Overeater’s Anonymous compadre Prince Fielder home in Game 2 of last year’s Fall Classic.

Lamont was horrid at that gig.  In the offseason when he was moved to the bench, Jim Leyland mentioned his pal’s declining EYESIGHT as a reason for the move.   And yet, Brookens is so unqualified for this job that some fans are clamoring for the return of Hardened Arteries Mister Magoo!!!

And it isn’t just that Brookens is getting runners thrown out at home at an alarming rate; it’s the manner in which it is occurring.   The third baseman on the ’84 team has embarrassed himself time and again with horrid decision making, including Tuesday night when slowpoke bowling ball Brayan Pena got thrown out by nearly a furlong.

It was such a bad decision that Pena couldn’t help but LAUGH at the situation.  And that non-play at the plate wasn’t even close to being Brookens’ pièce de résistance in 2013.

Who can forget him sending VICTOR MARTINEZ and his ACL-less knees home earlier this year against the Royals?

vmartscurred

I am not sure what was worse about THAT decision — thnking V-Mart could actually score or not realizing that a bang-bang play at the plate probably wasn’t a good idea for a dude who missed the 2012 season due to microfracture knee surgery.

And did Brookens learn his lesson from this humiliation? Nope.  In the Max Scherzer vs. Matt Harvey game a couple of Saturdays ago in Flushing,  New York, the imbecile father of hot twin daughters did the same damn thing.  Brookens foolishly sent a still hobbled and impaired Omar Infante home on a play that wasn’t even close.

On the very next FUCKING PLAY, he attempted to send a barely-ambulatory Miguel Cabrera home from third on a Matt Tuiasosopo single.  Thankfully, Miggy isn’t just great at crushing baseballs, he also knew his own physical limitations and stopped at third.

Like, is this jackass trying to end the season of our better players or is he just that god damn stupid? Brookens isn’t just inept at his job, he is a tragedy waiting to happen.

Even this dude thinks Brookens is a tragedy at directing traffic ….

Donald

So, the verdict is in and everyone knows Brookens has no business coaching third base on a team that has World Series aspirations.  But is a change forthcoming to ensure that we don’t endure another disaster like Game 2 of the World Series in San Francisco?

Of course not.   Instead, we get Leyland defending Brookens’ decision to send Pena home; even the team’s bought-and-paid-for announcers were incredulous about the decision.

And, speaking of the broadcast booth, how about Rod Allen on Tuesday evening? Not only did this clown admit to going out to dinner with some of the Tigers players and allowing them to pay for his tab (Rob Parker obviously taught Bojangles about journalistic ethics), the IQ-challenged fool had the audacity to claim that Miguel Cabrera’s season for the ages is overshadowing the great year Prince Fielder is enjoying.

WHAT??!!??!?!!? I can’t tell if this is Allen’s stupidity or his shilling coming out (or a poisonous cocktail of both), but can you imagine making that comment?

This dunce believes Prince is good? The man gets paid $24 million a year for his POWER and he is currently 16th in slugging percentage in all of baseball …..

AMONG FIRST BASEMAN WHO QUALIFY.

Prince Fielder is having the worst year of his career by almost every measure, including the fact that Willie Horton’s statue in left centerfield at Comerica Park has more range in comparison, and this absolute dolt thinks he is being overshadowed by Miggy because of his totally misleading RBI stat.

The other day, Allen called Prince an RBI machine.   The Son of Cecil isn’t an RBI machine, he is an RBI opportunist thanks to the incredible years Cabrera and Torii Hunter are having.

Fuck, the guy isn’t even elevating his play with runners in scoring position — where you could make that preposterous claim.  His OPS is actually WORSE with RISP than with nobody on.

The only thing about Prince Fielder that is being eclipsed is his now-single penis, which is being overshadowed by his enormous belly.   The guy has a WAR of 1.3.  Hell, Prince isn’t even outshining a hypothetical minor-league Replacement Player.

Which leads us to the most aggravating facet of this organization: Their dimwitted manager who continues to treat mathematics like the Catholic Church handled Galileo’s scientific theories.

We all know this obtuse thinker despises advanced metrics.  He displayed that last year when he mocked Modern Day Mickey Mantle with Good Knees and Without Cirrhosis of the Liver (Mike Trout) by labeling him “Wonder Boy” due to the SABR community trumpeting his WAR.

He proved it again (not that we needed more evidence) when Cancer Stick chose Chris Tillman over Hiroki Kuroda for the AL All-Star team. On Tuesday Leyland went off on MATH again when he railed against anyone who tries to rationalize Max Scherzer’s record with …. ya know …. facts about his gaudy 2013 run support.

“I don’t believe in any of that stuff,” Leyland said. “I won’t listen to any of it and have no interest in talking about it. You can figure out whatever you want. My view of pitchers’ stats is this: Did he give us a chance to win? If he did that on any kind of consistent basis for me, then he’s a very good pitcher.

“But I also like guys that win. I’d rather have a pitcher nobody is talking about who has won 15 games than somebody everyone is raving about who has won five. I’m a baseball manager, not a statistician. I’m wasting my time talking about it.

I am a baseball manager.  Not a statistician.  Actually, you’re a mouth-breathing imbecile who’s antiquated thinking endangers success of the team.

You might think this relic’s belief system — that hasn’t been modified since Honus Wagner was playing –has no real-life impact on the Tigers.  Who cares if Leyland values wins over FIP, xFIP and tERA?

Well, this inane field boss is so enamored with Wins and Losses that he obviously let a gassed Scherzer start the eighth inning Tuesday night in a desperate attempt to get Max his 20th victory against a sole defeat.

You are talking about Max Scherzer who doesn’t even care about his W/L stat HIMSELF!!! The same Max Scherzer who suffered from arm fatigue last season and whose playoff contributions were minimized because of it.

THAT GUY was still on the mound in the eighth inning just so he could still have a chance at some unimportant 20-1 record.  Because that’s more pressing than Scherzer being fresh for THIS postseason. Especially with the unknown status of Justin Verlander from start-to-start.

And 20-1 is a perfect segue into my final complaint about the Tigers.   Their mostly-awful fans who seem to care more about Triple Crowns, Cy Youngs, MVPs and 20-win seasons than breaking that 29-year drought.

I mean, we’ve had a Cy Young recipient in Verlander.  An MVP in Miguel Cabrera and JV.  The first Triple Crown winner since Carl Yastrzemski.  Why the fuck does anyone care about these INDIVIDUAL accomplishments when this organization got swept in the World Series last year by an inferior team that currently resides in LAST PLACE in the National League West?

I am not sure what is more maddening, this constant thirst for more meaningless personal glory propagated by the awful beat writers who cover the Tigers and worshipped by the team’s fans or that the Giants are currently 61-77.

We got swept by THAT.  And the SOLE focus of everyone associated with this team isn’t rectifying that embarrassment starting next month.  Nope, let’s obsesses with getting Joaquin Benoit on the All-Star team and promoting Jose Iglesias for Rookie of the Year.

And while I don’t have the time or inclination (well, okay, maybe I have the time) to dissect the awful places where Tigers fan congregate on the Intranets (Bless You Boys, MotownSports, etc.), I figured I would make one pathetic loser the poster boy for everything that is AWFUL about this team’s fans.

So I give you the Tweets of Matt Sussman.  This Poor Man’s Dave Hogg has a Twitter bio that states he is a Gigglemetrician.  I am not making that up.  Read the following and then immediately douse yourself in gasoline and light a match ….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’d like to thank @JFunk2800 for assisting me in compiling those AWFUL Tweets from this Tigers fan who is less funny than pancreatic cancer. I can only compare sifting through Sussman’s Twitter feed for those “gems” to Andy Dufresne crawling the length of five football fields through shit to break out of Shawshank.

And speaking of @JFunk2800, after Sussman’s latest BOMB of a joke on Twitter (that was Re-Tweeted by the Louis CK of the Detroit Media, Lynn Henning), Jum Pete and I both suggested that Sussman do the world a favor by Ariel Castro’ing himself.

I mean, who finds this lunatic funny? We know is isn’t his OWN WIFE who Tweeted this in response to a friend of hers who was inquiring about our Seauicide request of her husband:

@VivaTigres more than one, even. I get that they don’t like his jokes, I don’t either, but I just ignore him.

I mean, the DUDE’S OWN BRIDE bagged on his atrocious brand of humor.  I wonder if Sussman ended up crashing on PhilCokesBrain’s couch after that nuke.

Do you see what I mean when I explain to you that EVERYTHING associated with this team that doesn’t occur between the painted white lines is absolutely infuriating?

And I haven’t even touched on Jim Price’s incessant comments about “the art of pitching”, “rackytacky”, and the print media’s awful Twitter behavior of spotting obscure jerseys in the crowd and making horrible inside jokes. And I haven’t even mentioned belt-stealing Craig Monroe’s garbage commentary or Shannon “Woot! Woot!” Hogan.

Last year I commented in this space that the combination of the Tigers talent with the managerial stylings of Jim Leyland was the equivalent of marrying the girl of your dreams only to have her cunt mother move into your guest bedroom shortly after the honeymoon.

Well, when you consider all of the factors I have mentioned above, I would take that one step further.  The Tigers are like tying the knot only to discover your bitch mother-in-law is moving into your guest room and bringing her annoying deadbeat son who doesn’t have a job and sits in your family room all day watching Judge Judy in his stained boxers while his aggressive pitbull attacks your neighbors children and his meth-head girlfriend eats everything out of your refrigerator.

And, at the end of every single 24-hours of THAT, Dan Dickerson appears on Twitter to summarize the day’s events.

Man, do I miss 1984.  And not just for 35-5 and the title.  The Tigers announcing team of  George Kell, Al Kaline, Ernie Harwell and Paul Carey were all legends.

I didn’t know enough about sabermetrics to want to kill all of the team’s beat writers and manager.

Twitter wasn’t around so we didn’t have to hear the unfiltered and inane thoughts of John Lowe, Tom Gage and Danny Knobler.

And the Great Wall was still in business and serving delicious Almond Boneless Chicken.

Leave it up to a born Jew to end this column discussing CHINESE FOOD.

L’shana Tova and a Happy Sandy Koufax to ya’ll.