My god, the impossible has just become possible. Let the ticker tape fly and the beers be consumed. The Average Joe's have taken down the mighty Goliath and we are just one step closer to smelling sweet, sweet victory (man, I really hope victory smells good though, like vanilla, or chocolate chip cookies, and not like old socks or something). Our lowly Detroit Tigers have finally gotten a taste of the good life. We can finally know how it feels to walk around with our heads held high and a sense of pride in our weathered tigers hats. The postseason of a good team lights up the city and we all are excited to be here.
I've been watching the Tigers since I was a little kid, trading baseball cards like they were going out of style, idolizing the great Kirk Gibson and loving every minute of it. Sure, I sucked at T-Ball myself (I got hit in the head with the ball and it freaked me out ever since) but I loved to be downtown, with the smell of fresh roasted peanuts in the air, the chant of "Lou" at Tiger's Stadium, sneaking down from our obstructed view seats to better ones, catching the ambiance of all that is Detroit Tigers baseball. From the corner of Michigan and Trumball to the now hallowed grounds of the CoPa, the Tigers have finally earned thier due.
I can feel the excitement in the air. From now to the end of October (I hope), my eyes, ears, and possibly even my pancreas will be glued to the story that will unfold before us. We have been starved for this moment and now, we will eat at the table of winners.
My god, the impossible has just become possible. Let the ticker tape fly and the beers be consumed. The Average Joe's have taken down the mighty Goliath and we are just one step closer to smelling sweet, sweet victory (man, I really hope victory smells good though, like vanilla, or chocolate chip cookies, and not like old socks or something). Our lowly Detroit Tigers have finally gotten a taste of the good life. We can finally know how it feels to walk around with our heads held high and a sense of pride in our weathered tigers hats. The postseason of a good team lights up the city and we all are excited to be here.
I've been watching the Tigers since I was a little kid, trading baseball cards like they were going out of style, idolizing the great Kirk Gibson and loving every minute of it. Sure, I sucked at T-Ball myself (I got hit in the head with the ball and it freaked me out ever since) but I loved to be downtown, with the smell of fresh roasted peanuts in the air, the chant of "Lou" at Tiger's Stadium, sneaking down from our obstructed view seats to better ones, catching the ambiance of all that is Detroit Tigers baseball. From the corner of Michigan and Trumball to the now hallowed grounds of the CoPa, the Tigers have finally earned thier due.
