last.
And like everything great that America ever produced, it comes from Detroit.
I’ve already told the story of the wacky weekend of June 26th. St. Louis was amazing on Friday. Milwaukee with brats and Jack Harbaugh on Saturday. And Detroit, by contrast, was the most stressful of the 30 days on the road with the glorious Sunday morning passport snafu and pending issues I believed I’d be encountering later in the day in attempting to cross the Canadian border – and back into the USA – without my little blue book.
Thankfully, the Tigers were the most accommodating human beings on the entire tour. Ron Colangelo and his staff helped me get my passport printed out and even wrote a story about our mission.
We rode the Carousel – like the idiots we are – and walked around the stadium. We drank a beer in left field with a bunch of really cool Detroit Tigers fans. We hung out with the aforementioned Eric Mueller, who did 30 ballparks in 30 days (also for leukemia) a few years earlier.
And in the eighth inning, with the hometown Tigers losing 4-0 in the 8th inning, we headed for the exit to beat any traffic because Jenn had a flight to catch at 6:15 p.m. and I had a border crossing to navigate without a passport and a four-hour drive to Toronto.
We jumped in our rental car and I realized it was only 3:30 p.m. We had a little time to kill before we darted to the airport. I said to Jenn, “Let’s stop by where Tiger Stadium was and see what’s there.”
She said, “OK, but I’ve gotta pee. So let’s make it fast.”
When I googled Tiger Stadium, which is 1.6 miles down Grand River Avenue, it said “the location may be closed permanently.”
The ballpark closed in 1999. It was torn down in 2008. And I had no idea what might be standing in that sacred space at the corner of Trumbull and Michigan.
It’s the best baseball stadium I’ve ever seen. It was a magical, perfect place. Every seat was close. The upper deck was low and awesome. It was the last “ballpark” of the era.
All the legends played there. Ruth. Cobb. Gerhig. Williams. Kaline.
So this is where baseball gets me. It gets me right in the gut.
And I was about to realize exactly why I was in this space at this time.
Every time I turn that corner at the top of the Alameda and head west on 33rd Street toward what used to be Memorial Stadium, my heart skips just a little bit. There’s a little part of me – deep in my soul – that wants to see those light stanchions high above the World’s Largest Outdoor Insane Asylum. Just one more day, you want to go to a ballgame at the ‘old girl and see the Orioles or the Colts.
What would I be – traveling 30 ballparks in 30 days – if not a guy searching for just a little piece of my Pop, my childhood, playing baseball, watching baseball, living baseball – like when you thought it represented everything good in life?
It still bums me out to drive past 33rd Street and not see that ballpark there. At least I can bring myself to do it now. For years, I would avoid driving past it because it made me feel empty, somehow.
So, as we made the drive – and not having a clue what I would see – I thought about what Al Kaline thinks when he passes this place. I’ve always wondered what Brooks Robinson or Lenny Moore think when they drive down 33rd Street?
And we turned the corner and realized they had kept the field in tact and ringed what used to be the stadium gates with a giant, typical silver fence. It looked like a caged-in, urban baseball field.
There were people on the field playing what appeared to be some sort of pickup game or practice. We parked the car at the edge of Michigan Avenue. I promised Jenn we’d be quick. We couldn’t even figure out how to get into the cage.
As I walked onto the field and was greeted by a bunch of the folks, Jenn turned on my mobile video and this happened:
I hit a single off my wife at Tiger Stadium, which has always been – and will probably always be – my favorite stadium.
She says Brooks would’ve had it. She calls it an easy 6-3.
But, you can judge for yourself…
Nine months of planning, six months of worrying and 30 days of living on the road watching baseball and swabbing for the bone marrow registry and there was no way to plan on that happening.
So, what was the highlight of my 30-30 #GiveASpit MLB summer roadie of 2015?
Playing baseball on the field at Tiger Stadium with my wife.
I’d say that’s priceless!
And, when I got back in the car, I looked down on my phone and realized that the Tigers scored four runs in the eighth to tie the game and won it on a James McCann walkoff homer in the ninth.
I’d call that a perfect day in Detroit.
PART THREE OF THE #GIVEASPIT JOURNEY WILL BE COMING NEXT WEEK…
Thanks for reading about our journey. Please throw me an email: nasty@wnst.net and say hi if you get this far.
If you do, I’m happy to hand you a free copy of Purple Reign 2: Faith, Family and Football any Monday night this fall at Buffalo Wild Wings in Owings Mills. I’m there every week hosting the Best Seat In The House and giving nice folks like you free books. Hope to see you there.
