America's pastime

Last night, I happened to have both my Facebook and Twitter accounts open while researching some social media opportunities for a potential freelance client. I was also watching the Detroit Tigers take on the Minnesota Twins in a do-or-die battle for the AL Central Division title.

As I worked and watched, I also watched the tweets and status updates rolling across my screen. Many people appeared to be doing the same thing I was. I couldn't believe how many status updates were about the Tigers, even as I was posting one or two myself.

The thing I probably miss most frequently about Detroit is obviously sporting events. Most of my regular readers know that I am a huge Red Wings fan. But before I loved the Wings, the Detroit team I had seen in action repeatedly was the Detroit Tigers.

We went to a few games in the old Tiger Stadium when I was younger (way younger - I'm talking about Cecil Fielder walking up to bat while "The Phantom of the Opera" music played over the loudspeaker). They weren't great then - after their World Series win of 1984 (we've all seen the picture of Gibby jumping victoriously in the air) the team had started a downward spiral. They were OK through the rest of the 80's, and in the early 90's traded hands from one Michigan-based pizza man - Tom Monaghan of Domino's - to another - Mike Illitch of Little Ceasars, who also owns the Red Wings. By the time I was in middle school, they were beginning their eleven-year stretch of losing seasons.

In 2000,  the controversial Comerica Park was opened. Comerica was very different than Tiger Stadium, not just because it was newer. For starters, it was located in a prime downtown location by the historic Fox Theater, the Detroit Opera House, and Hockeytown Cafe. This was a much fancier location than Tiger Stadium's corner of Michigan Aveue and Trumbull in Corktown. Secondly, the original distance to left-center was brought under fire for being too hard to hit home runs (it was later shortened). Then there was the historical factor - Tiger Stadium was tied with Fenway as the oldest active baseball stadium in the country.

Certainly not the least of the criticisms was the rumbling that the Tigers were so bad they didn't deserve a new ballpark. The supporters of Comerica Park argued that the new stadium would put fans in the seats - something the team and its losing record was struggling to do.

The new park was certainly a novelty, but the striped kitties were quickly becoming to baseball what the Lions are today to football. Even having popular veteran Tigers like Allan Trammell on the management and coaching staff did not keep the Tigers from a dismal 2003 and pretty crappy 2004.

(You are probably thinking at this point that I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. Or if you don't know, you're probably wondering where I'm going with this.)

Where I'm going is here: the Tigers may not have deserved that park; they may have been the worst team in baseball, but I loved them - and that ridiculous park - because I got to go to games.

At that time in Tigers history, you could barely give tickets away, let alone find people to pay for them. Which is exactly why the company my grandpa worked for at the time always had 4-6 tickets behind the first or third base line in the lower section to give away. AND they came with parking passes.

There were multiple times we'd gather up a group of friends and head to games. Sophie, Anthony, Eric, Becky, Kelli, Rose, and more all went to Tigers games with me, and we always cheered for the Tigers and always had a great time. And I am attached to that team out of more than just the proximity of where I grew up - I am attached because I got to see them play fairly often.

2004 and beyond were a renaissance period: first came Pudge, then Guillien, then Mags, then old-man Leyland came along to replace Trammell. By the end of 2005 the team looked good. My grandpa was retired now, and all of a sudden tickets had gotten harder to get.

Still, even though we weren't going to games on a regular basis at this point, we were invested in that team and felt entitled to cheer for them because we jumped on the bandwagon when they were so bad. And we were firmly on the bandwagon when the team made their (failed) World Series run in 2006.

Flash forward a couple years: I live in Connecticut. Professional sporting events are not easy to come by. I live between two rival baseball teams that have rabidly passionate fans (Yankees and Sox) but don't really watch either. I don't really make much of a point to watch the Tigers, truthfully, not the way I do the Red Wings. But I follow the front office and the Free Press on Twitter, read the scores in the paper, and in general keep up with them, even though I'm not a fanatic.

And last night, I watched hundreds of people all over America engage in conversations about "my" team. Even being stuck out on the east coast and not at Sticks in Ypsilanti, the Arena in Ann Arbor, or anywhere in Metro Detroit, I was still part of the Detroit crowd cheering for the hometown team. You can't convince me social networking is worthless after that experience.

And I'll call the Tigers "my" baseball team no matter where I live or how out of the MLB loop I am. It doesn't matter why you become attached to a team (in my case, it was free tickets during the reign of despair) if you still harbor a genuine attachment and desire to see them do well.

See you next year, Tigers.

Grand Slam

Noe and I watch a lot of tennis, as you may have gathered from previous posts about attending tennis tournaments in Indianapolis and Newport. This year, we decided that being so close to New York provided too great an opportunity to pass up: we made the decision to attend our first major, the U.S. Open.

We took the Metro-North from New Haven into Grand Central and then hopped on the subway to get to Queens (FYI - the parts of Queens you see from the subway windows do NOT look like "The King of Queens"). We could see the silhouette of Arthur Ashe stadium as the train pulled in - wow.

The Billie Jean King Tennis Center is the most beautiful sports venue I have ever seen. The grounds are meticulously landscaped and extremely clean. Noe and I kind of stood stupidly and stared for awhile before deciding where to head first.

We chose to get in the line to go into the grandstand (the smallest of the three stadiums). We were rewarded for our patient waiting when we walked into the small stadium and on the court was none other than Gael Monfils, one of our favorite up-and-coming French players. Monfils is incredibly athletic and is known for leaping and diving all over the court. He also slides a lot. Naturally, this style of play is particularly effective on clay, but Monfils manages to employ it on a hard court as well. We could hear his sneakers squealing before we even entered the stands.

Monfils running for a shorter shot

After Mofils sewed up his victory over Jermey Chardy, we headed to our nosebleed seats in Arthur Ashe (the big stadium). We had thought about just buying grounds passes but figured if we were going to our first major we should try to see someone really big. Neither of us imagined we would actually see our current favorite, Rafael Nadal. But sure enough, thanks to the luck of the draw, that is exactly who ended up playing the afternoon headliner on Wednesday. And before him, Venus Williams. So we ended up with an excellent double bill, totally worth the money. Actually, had Noe and I known it was going to be Nadal, we would have shelled out the bigger bucks to sit closer.

After the Nadal match ended, we wandered the grounds for awhile. We explored the food and beverage options (the Open has all kinds of food, from sushi to seafood to pasta to crepes; and tennis attracts high-end booze sponsors like Grey Goose, who had beverage carts set up every five feet), then we checked out the wall of champions. We perused the outer courts for awhile, catching Robbie Ginepri's win.

We were headed back to the grandstand to watch some of Lleyton Hewitt's match when we noticed a small crowd gathering. We followed, and found ourselves about three feet away from John and Patrick McEnroe, who were doing some commentary for one of the TV broadcasts. (The guys behind us were debating whether or not to yell "Jimmy Connors rules!"; they ultimately decided on NOT.)

We watched Hewitt grind out the first set with Chela, then sadly gave up our seats to catch the subway and head back to CT. The sadness of leaving the Open was slightly dampened when I found the Grand Central Market still open and was able to make a Murray's run, but we still spent the train ride back wishing we could have stayed.

The U.S. Open is the best sporting event I have ever attended. The grounds are nice, you can see high-quality play up close, and tennis fans are great - they like the big names, but if an underdog starts making a good run, they rally behind him or her. There are about a million different languages being spoken all around and every chair umpire has a different accent. If we stay in CT, I definitely plan to attend this event in the future.

Why the Motor City Bowl is Lame This Year

Central Michigan vs. Florida Atlantic?

This should have been Ball State vs. Notre Dame, NOT Central vs. Florida Atlantic. Sorry, but I have no interest in watching a team with four losses (including one to Eastern Michigan) take on Florida freakin' Atlantic (6-6).

I had my heart set on Ball State even after they lost to Buffalo (which I still don't really understand). Even after Ohio State got the at-large bid (and ends up playing number three Texas in the Fiesta Bowl - good luck with THAT) and took the Big 10 (Minnesota) out of the picture, there were still more interesting teams (from a Midwestern perspective) left in the race.

Notre Dame vs. Ball State would have been perfect - two Indiana teams on a Michigan field - close enough to attract legions of fans. And Notre Dame may not have been good for the past few years but they still have enough of a reputation (not to mention half the college football viewers in America probably think they are a Big 10 team) to draw a good crowd.

I guess Ball State gets to go play a nice warm weather game in Alabama when they meet Tulsa in the GMAC Bowl. But, quite frankly, they are ruining my plans - and Noe's plans - to watch some quality bowl football live while we're home for Christmas.

I guess I sort of get it, but still...

LAME.

Whoa.

James Blake (who I just saw play in Indianapolis a little less than a month ago), the number two-ranked tennis player in America, upset the world's number one-ranked Roger Federer in the Olympic semifinals. Blake had won only one set in their past eight matches.

Read the whole story here: http://www.nbcolympics.com/newscenter/news/newsid=213610.html#blake+power+upsets+federer

Noe and I got this shot of Blake warming up in Indy.
We were standing about five feet away from him.

This was my attempt to get a picture of me and Blake,

but he kept moving around, like he was playing tennis or something.

One for the ages

Two years ago - heck, even as recent as the spring of last year - if you had asked me if I would stay indoors and watch a tennis match, I would have looked at you like you were crazy. Of course, at that point I had no idea how tennis scoring worked and it all seemed very confusing.

When I met Noe, I watched a few of his matches (for those of you who don't know, Noe is an excellent tennis player. If any of my Connecticut friends who read this blog play tennis and want a good match, call Noe). The first few I watched, I had no idea what was going on and didn't even have the helpful TV commentator to give me a vague idea of who was winning. And then there was the time my cousin Olivia watched a match with me and yelled out that the ref looked like our Uncle Rick, causing every player on the court to look at us in disgust and make "SHHHHHH" noises.

Noe's very patient teammate Fred must have seen the confused looks on my face every time I attempted to watch a match, because one day he came over and sat with me for an entire set, explaining exactly what was going on and how the scoring worked. This made watching the matches much more enjoyable.

Not too long after that match, Noe and I went to the tennis shop and picked out my racket and a new pair of K-Swiss sneakers - I was going to attempt to play that game that had befuddled me mere weeks before.

I lucked out big time.

When I had signed up for the Ypsi Township tennis lessons, I was not expecting anything spectacular. What I did not anticipate was the township hiring Ryan Rooney and Gary DeGuzman to teach the lessons. I didn't know Ryan and Gray at the time, but Noe knew them from the local tennis circuit - and they knew who Noe was, too. They were thrilled to get his girlfriend in tennis lessons.

Not only were Ryan and Gary awesome instructors, but after the official township lessons ended, they agreed to meet at designated courts every Tuesday and Saturday and teach drop-in lessons for whoever wanted to come. Most of our class showed up. Because of them, I was able to get great instruction and play at least twice a week all summer. And I really loved tennis.

Sadly, I have not played much since I got out here to Connecticut, a fact that I am hoping will change. Unfortunately, the parks and rec options in the Ypsi/Ann Arbor area were better than the Groton/New London region, and Noe doesn't get a corporate membership to any of the clubs out here like he did at Huron Valley - so we are both a little out of the tennis loop.

However, in the absence of playing tennis, we have watched a lot of tennis. Due to our somewhat ridiculous satellite television package, we get the tennis channel. Plus, tennis is always on at weird hours since most of it seems to be played overseas. But yesterday an epic match was played on network television.

This year's gentlemen's final at Wimbledon may be the best tennis match the world will ever see. For those who don't follow tennis (and really, who does? I never used to) Roger Federer of Switzerland and Rafeal Nadal of Spain are two of the greatest tennis players ever.

Tennis players, much like hockey players, do not photograph well during matches.

Federer has twelve Grand Slam titles to his name. He had won Wimbledon five times in a row. He was going for six - attempting to beat Bjorn Borg's record set in 1980 and tied by Federer last year. The only slam title to elude Federer is the French Open, the only slam played on clay. And four French Opens made up Nadal's slam titles.

The two have met in the finals of slams repeatedly over the last few years, with Nadal always victorious on clay and Federer usually the victor on grass or other surfaces. The gap has been closing, however - last year, Nadal managed to take Federer five sets in the Wimbledon final before succumbing.

This year, Nadal snapped Federer's winning streak on grass in a four-hour plus match that was nothing short of exhilarating. Even two rain delays couldn't keep this match from playing out at the maximum level of excitement. The two never once looked fatigued, even though they played five sets and a number of lengthy tie breaks. Darkness had started to fall when Federer's usually reliable forehand slammed the ball into the net and Nadal hit the ground in relief.

Although I was rooting for Nadal, I want to acknowledge that Roger Federer is an amazing athlete. The most appropriate modern comparison is probably Tiger Woods - both dominate their sport in a way that intimidates most of their competitors. But if you saw Nadal play Wimbledon, you know he not only wanted it, but deserved it. He earned his victory.

Makes me wish I still had Ryan and Gary around.