Summary:
Score: Detroit 3 Rangers 2
Temperature: 65 o
Attendance: 24,196
Winner of the Dunkin' Donuts Race: Cuppie Coffee
As we headed toward Detroit, I saw the dark clouds creeping in. I was tired and really wasn't up for being cold and wet and waiting out a rain delay. To make matters worse, I realized while changing out of my work clothes and into my ballpark clothes that I'd left my ball park shoes at home. The only consolation of wearing pointy slingback kitten heels with my jeans and ballcap to a rain soaked ballpark was that I was wearing my UWO t-shirt; it made me smile to imagine people thinking "Oh yeah, trust a Western grad to wear pointy kitten heels to a rainy ballgame. What do they teach them at that university??" Poor footwear choices and bad weather aside, the pull of the Tigers outweighed the fear of getting soaked and commiting such an egregious footwear faux pas (I posted a picture of these shoes at the park on my Flickr site). Thinking there would likely be a downpour, we sat in the highest row where there was some shelter. We were there early and had a panoramic view of Detroit and the ballpark. We watched the crowds trickle in as the dark clouds began to swarm around us. Having seen a few "Tigers Fan From Before 2006" t-shirts, I started thinking about the term "fair weather fan" noticing the attendance for the past few rainy games and hoped it was the rain that was keeping people away not the fact that, within the past month, the Tigers 10 game lead now dances around the one or two games. While I've enjoyed the intensity of the nearly full ballpark, I have to admit I enjoyed having some open space in the stands in recent games: it leads to a more reflective experience. People who endure rain to watch baseball tend to watch baseball; there were very few "can you see me??" phone calls and I was happy to have an evening where no one did the wave. The excitement of the Tigers' mid-season victories was a thrilling ride and like nothing I've experienced before. The past month has been much more tempered and thoughtful. In the low attendance nights, people are watching the game much more carefully and contemplatively and I've liked that. The mood for the past few games has been somewhere between nervous dread and tentative hope. Every at bat is starting to matter and every play has the potential to be read as foreshadowing. If someone were writing a novel about a baseball team like this one, most writers would cringe at the tried and clumsy cliche of victories in sunshine and defeats in rainstorms. However trite the symbolism, I remain ever the student of literature and I find it hard not to notice the parallels between the weather and the Tigers' record. As much as I resist the awkward symbolism, I cling to the final moment of Tuesday's game as a sign of hope.
In the bottom of the ninth, the Tigers and Rangers are tied 2-2. As the Rangers take the field, the rain that poured insistently for the past hour lets up. The rain turns to a light mist as the first Tigers batter approaches the plate. When Carlos Guillen swings, the park goes silent. The sound of rain has vanished and suddenly all you hear is the crack of Guillen's bat and the silence of 20,000 people holding their breath. The ball arcs out of the park and the Tigers have won. Ever hopeful, I have to admit that as much as the above scene reads like a cringe worthy piece of fiction, I can't help but hope it's not a random narrative dot but an omen.
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