BaseBlog: Game 10 - 6/4 at Comerica Park

I awoke on this Tuesday morning fairly early, ready to tackle the four and a half hour drive with my two best friends. In the past 22 days, I have seen seven games and had some experiences I could only dream about from where I was last year. These two games in Detroit were the end to the best baseball marathon I would probably ever see.

I was sitting on 47 lifetime balls coming into the day. The end to the marathon was a little saddening, but having number 50 in sight took my mind off of that. It was really a big deal to me. I've put in the time for two and a half years, and I was almost half way to the first real milestone.

Not only that, but this was going to be the 8th park I've visited in my life, and the fourth in the last calender year. I was very excited to cross one more city off the list and continue to work my way father and father away from my personal epicenter of Chicago.

I felt on top of the baseball world that morning. Less than two weeks ago, I had a big, long, and busy weekend in Cincinnati. I looked through pictures, displayed my balls to some readers, and started thinking about the entries for those games. I barley had time to blink before I started the process over again. I knew most of what was coming in the new city and new park aspects, but there were still plenty of adventures and experiences to be had. The thing that really made me smile, amid entries from multiple cities, meeting my hero, and catching balls like I had a magnet attached to me, is that I got in the car with the mindset that this trip was just business as usual.

The gears in my head starting turning on July 17th of LAST season when Sean and I went to Wrigley. That night, we sat in front of some guys who had driven all the way from New York to see ballparks of the Midwest. They said Wrigley was average, Pittsburgh was pretty good, and Milwaukee was the sleeper of the trip. But for some reason, a reason that was beyond me, they couldn't say enough good things about Detroit. Their list was full of very impressive parks. If they insisted Comerica was the best of them all, that really meant something.

At that time, I'd been telling Sean about the St.Louis trip that Brent and I took the month before, and he wanted to be included for the one taking place this season. It was decided right there and then in aisle 204 that Detroit would be our destination.

Eleven months later, here we are!

The downtown area of Detroit was not that new to me. I had been up here twice in back to back years to see the Bears play the Lions. Conveniently enough, Comerica Park was literally right across the street from Ford Field. From just those two brief visits, I had a pretty good handle on what to expect in the immediate vicinity outside the park.

That tall shiny building, the most famous one in the city that gets shown on every national sports broadcast and houses a Marriott, is where I stayed for the Bears games. When I went with my dad, we parked in their garage for the duration of our stay. I knew it was a decently close to the park, and relatively cheap. It was about a mile walk, but knowing I had a safe place to leave my car really calmed me down. I didn't know how sketchy other independent lots would be.

Ford Field came into view first:

And the first view of our real destination appeared soon after:

I was taunted for two winters in a row, seeing the place I REALLY wanted to be just a few steps away. It felt great to know this time I would finally be going inside.

Since we arrived early enough, we did a lap before lining up beneath that giant glove, where the left field gate was.

If there's one negative to attending night games, it's that you have to show up twice as early if you want to wander AND see BP since it's too dark to see anything after the game.

The outfield is pretty open all the way around. Not too many high walls that guard the inside.

Moving farther to the left of that picture, towards right field, this view comes into play:

Damn! It's almost like you can watch the game from there! (Side note- they're hitting as expected. Sweeeeet.)

But check this out- I took the following picture before my second Bears game in January 2011:

That's a more than decent spot to watch a game from if you couldn't get inside.

After everything went to shit with GM in 2008, a laid off auto worker watched a bunch of games from this spot. ESPN did a story on it, which is how I knew about this whole thing. Five years later, and during baseball season, there are now large barriers around this area so people wouldn't be able to have this view. Regardless, you get what I mean; very minimal obstruction from the sidewalk wherever you look in.

The Tigers definitely get my vote for best in show for outside the gates:

And guess what? That's just the right field corner. Look at home plate!

Those Tiger heads were pretty much around the entire outside. The baseball in their mouth was unnecessary, but was extremely clever and added to the atmosphere of the stadium.

For as small as the downtown area was, there were lots of things to see that created more of a big city feel.

Traitor!

Alright.....

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The true home plate entrance was kind of lame, especially compared to what the other ones were like. I had to wait for traffic to stop so I could walk in the middle of the street to see the sign from this angle:

A look inside, where the Tigers were still hitting:

Then I saw something that genuinely upset me:

Aw man! I'm not the first one in! I knew there would be a dozen balls waiting for me, but now there was zero chance of any being left. The gates would open at 5:40, in just 15 minutes. I assumed these people had very special connections. I scoured the internet for hours seeing if there was any way to get early access, but found nothing.

Here's two things that look cool and old:

I was then informed by Sean that Ty Cobb was an asshole. He often played dirty and cleated guys sliding into bases. But man, could he ever make contact with that ball!

More pictures from the rest of our walk back towards left field to complete the lap:

Ford Field on the left.

When we got back to the gates, I noticed two were open already. Due to my research, I was absolutely sure the magic time was 5:30 or 5:40. Regardless, we had plenty of time before both of those times. I asked the security people, "All these gates open at 5:40, right?", hoping they would correct me if I was wrong. A few of them nodded their head, and I was happy.

The two open gates had to be something I missed; special privileged pass or season tickets? It's probably why there were people inside already, even though it was only a handful of fans. When I got closer to the open gates, one of the bag checkers looked right at me and said, "I can take you over here"

"Season ticket holders, right?"

"Oh yea, they get the red carpet"

There was a small lane of generic red carpet stemming from one of the turnstiles. He said something about the old people like feeling special, and sarcastically said he would be in loads of trouble if I tried to walk on it. This affirmed my thinking that I couldn't get in, but was wondering why he made it such a conversation piece when the answer was a simple no.

He continued, "But you guys can use this one over here", as he pointed to the one right next to the red carpet lane.

I don't know why he didn't understand me when I said I didn't have season tickets. This was getting very confusing for me, and he kept telling me which one I can use. Just to get it over with, I held out my printed paper ticket just so they knew where I was coming from and what I had. I was really hoping what happened next wouldn't happen.

He took a look at my ticket, checked my bag, and sent me through to get my ticket scanned. Those people in left field weren't special....THEY WERE REGULAR FANS! I MISSED THE GATE TIME!

Instant panic set in. I immediately realized there was nothing I could do besides keep chugging along and not dwell. What really bugged me though, is HOW I missed it. We weren't caught in traffic or held up by something. We were there for a good half half hour and did nothing but walk around the outside, completely unaware that we could get in. I felt like such an idiot not asking in the first place.

How many balls did this cost me? Is my streak going to end? Everything was so unpredictable because I got that little detail wrong. What would I screw up next?

That whole thought process lasted about two steps, until I just shrugged and pulled out my glove. I had to work with what I was given. It was my mistake that I was late, and I would have to suffer the consequences for being so careless.

I wasn't worried about navigating that much. From the lap we did before we went in, I was able to pick up and see what I was dealing with. At least it gave me a TINY benefit. The only thing that was really panicking me was time.

The first item on the hierarchy of "Holy crap, I need a ball now" is Easter Eggs. I only searched for a half a minute since I figured the seats were picked clean after God knows how long the gates were open. The second bullet on that list is the Glove Trick. I had no idea how security would act here, but as I always tell myself, I will refuse to be escorted out if I didn't get a warning first. There was no downside to trying it if I saw a chance.

In order to cover the most area, I elevated to the ramp behind center field and looked to my right where both bullpens were located. I didn't have enough string to get all the way down to the ground below me, but I was hoping I'd be able to at least spot something.

Nope.

I tried to determine the next best plan of action.

My best option was attempting to get some players to notice me from that spot, as well as from the same spot in right center.

My pictures usually tell me the story of the day, but I can't remember how I felt at this particular moment. I know it wasn't TOO bad since I was very confident, but I was definitely still worried. The Rays could have jogged in at any time, leaving me with no more chances for the night and essentially ending my streak.

The first target was these guys. Specifically Alex Cobb, the starter for tomorrow night's game.

Ball after ball was hit near that group, and Cobb didn't move an inch. I didn't know any other names, so from this far away, I was hopeless unless he grabbed one.

I kept an eye on this guy in dead center, who was no more than 40 feet from me when he was shagging balls:

Eventually, at some point, there was one hit about half way between us. He slowly walked over to the lip of the outfield grass and warning track, right towards me. In my head, I was begging everyone around me to keep their mouth shut so he could hear me at the right time.

I asked pretty quietly as he was taking his last few steps, and responded with the most subtle chin lift affirmation I have ever seen. Once he picked it up, he watched two more BP pitches before turning around and under-handing it to me.

"Thanks man", I said like I always do. Then added, with sincerity in my voice and in my eyes that were hidden behind my sunglasses, "This one means more than you think."

With that, I was okay. Now it was time to look back, laugh, and call myself a moron over and over again. Since I got the most important thing out of the way, I pulled my phone out right then and there to check all three sources I had for Tigers gate opening times. All three said 5:40. I still have no idea what happened, and will never find out.

After that, I moved over here. It had the best mix of quiet fans, players on the field,and open space:

Over that bar on the left was a utility area that went down about 15 feet to field level. Lots of security guards and a groundskeeper's truck, but no balls for the Trick.

I tried to get a perfect picture of the scoreboard from this angle in the early evening sun:

That'll do. Notice the time at the bottom....5:40. A taunt that will live forever in my picture memories.

I went with a bunch of different philosophies for trying to get near a batted ball. Down the line (above), extra deep, way out in center, and front row. Here's a picture for that last one:

The front row was obviously full, but take a look at how wide open that second row is. What are the odds that a ball is going to be hit to those guys, yet far enough forward to where I can't reach up and go for it too?

However, get this - I've read from more than one source that Rays manager Joe Maddon doesn't let his players hit home runs in BP. It's all directional hitting and solid contact. I didn't even know managers enforced things like this. How can you tell guys to do that? What if one is an accident? Where is the line drawn?

I liked the names painted on the bricks on this side. The retired numbers were on the left field bricks:

From later in the night...

So I'm guessing these are the best managers in Tigers history.

It had a weird diagonal aisle next to it, too.

You can see how empty the bleachers are, and the regular seats were more of the same once you got past the first row.

This situation was oh so close to being perfect. If Comerica wasn't a hitter's black hole and those guide bars weren't there, this would be a pretty sweet situation.

While I was over here, I revisited the spot where I got my first ball to get a picture before moving to left field for the first time in quite a while:

Over there, I looked more closely for Glove Trick chances. There wasn't someone specifically watching the bullpen, but the vibe I got from this place in the first few minutes told me they wouldn't take too kindly to it. If it was within a few feet right below me, I was going to. But anything that required work and effort would get me caught.

There were three balls sitting around:

That third one was the best chance. But I could see myself undershooting it and knocking it even farther. Plus, people were in the way. Damn.

I then noticed Brent and Sean chilling out in some seats down the foul line. I went over and proudly told them about my ball. I just felt like I had to show someone I recovered and didn't totally screw things up. That's them on the wall:

My next target was this pack of guys in left field, none of them whose names I knew:

After the first time I asked them for a ball, Brent chimed in.

"Good freaking luck. We and everybody else have been trying for the last half hour. Those guys are straight up assholes".

Brent and Sean left a couple minutes later to sit by the dugouts. I was out to prove Brent wrong, though.

For some reason, I thought it would give me some sort of advantage to get out of foul territory any way possible. I moved to the lowest corner of left field, with the foul pole touching my shoulder. Technically, I was where I wanted to be (right above the 345 sign), even if it was 10 feet from my last spot.

Please really turns out to be the magic word:

Not five minutes after Brent said to give up, I got one. Maybe I am pretty good at this! The first ball I got had a completely worn logo on the sweet spot, and this one's lower logo was nearly gone. Weird contrast.

Since I did all I could do over here, I cut through the seats to preach to the guys about my success yet again.

Nothing was going on there besides a few autographs from Rays middle relievers, which I was not interested in. My lap around the park was almost complete, with the right field foul line being the last place I hadn't been.

Fernando Rodney and two other goofballs were being more ridiculous than I had ever seen any group of players act before.

You can see them in a line, spaced a few feet apart. The first guy would get a ball, and they would proceed with passing it back in the flashiest, most Harlem Globtrotter like ways they could think of. When the last guy got it, he wound up, and launched it nearly straight up above the first rows of right field. I could see how it was funny to them. Even I found it amusing and entertaining to see these people gather under the landing spot and try to jump for it.

I moved into the right field version of where I got my last ball in order to have those three see me better.

Rodney seems like one of those crazy guys, kind of like Jose Valverde or Brian Wilson (oddly, all closers). I even went as far as dancing when they started to groove and looked in my direction. Whatever gets it done, right?

Over the course of a few moments, I saw Rodney talking to a buddy and pointing up towards here:

It's not visible anymore, but at the time, there was some sort of bird perched on the raised part of the protective glass. I was really hoping he wasn't going to do what I thought he was, because that's sort of cruel. That's when my 'crazy person' view of him went to a higher level.

Once he got another ball, he turned around, took aim, and launched it. By the time the ball even got there, the bird was spooked and started to take off. A few other fans in right field noticed, as well as everybody in my immediate area who the ball was flying over. We all watched to see how accurate this major leaguer really was.

I thought for sure he would overshoot it and the ball would settle in the first few rows of the upper deck. It ended up falling short, hitting the concrete, and ricocheting back towards him. I was observing closely, since I always like to see other fans have their day made with unlikely bounces and catches.

The ball was descending fast, and heading right in my direction. I started to move back, three rows, to be exact, where the ball would land. It hit the cement, bounced over the seats and down a row, then I pounced. Another guy was coming from the other end of the row, so I gave one last lunge to get over the ball. I barley got the tip of my glove down on the ground before his hands got there.

As soon as it was covered, I said in my head, "Nope, Nope, Nope...Just give it up man!". He was desperately trying to get his fingers in there any way he could to still grab it. Not in a rude way at all like ripping it out, but he was definitely trying. He gave up after a few seconds.

Three's a party!

After taking a few more pictures, I hustled up the stairs to go back to where I started in right. As I turned around and started walking, it hit me. I smiled and went "Wow, that was it right there". Number 50. Half way to my long term goal. I couldn't believe it. It only took two and a half years (32 games of Ballhawking, to be exact). With the rate of my improvement I'm on, I could be up to 100 very quickly.

I felt like I may have had one more in me. Four seems to be my number so far this season.

It wasn't all that crowded for my standards, but from what I saw here at the beginning of the day, it was pretty bad.

Once all the Rays went in, it was time to find Sean and Brent and pick out some seats for the game. By the time we we met up and were making our way to our assigned seats in the right field bleachers, it was nearly 7:00 and the park wasn't even half full. If we were able to take someone else's seats, why wouldn't we?

Tickets were insanely cheap when I bought them in March, and got even cheaper when the season started. Bleachers, or the seats we ended up in eventually, were only nine bucks.

If you didn't see by now, Ford Field was constantly looming over the ballpark.

Anibal Sanchez's first pitch to Matt Joyce:

I was very, very excited to see the Tigers. For the most part, their AL pennant winning team was still intact. I wouldn't see Max Scherzer or Justin Verlander, but the other regulars in the field were all there.

I know Torii Hunter wasn't on the team last year, but he's still one of the names I've heard for my entire baseball viewing life. I've never seen him play in person, so adding him to the lineup made it that much more interesting for me to watch.

Matt Moore had a hell of a time getting Detroit hitters out. The 1st inning went fine, but he fell apart in the 2nd, giving up four runs. By the end of that inning, he was already at 86 pitches! It was clear that he wasn't going to make it past the 4th, so instead of getting shelled, Maddon decided to pull him.

The first three innings dragged on like nothing I've ever seen before. It took almost two hours for the first third of the game, and I seriously thought we would be there until midnight. Luckily, things picked up after the Tigers took a 6-1 lead. It got so bad for the Rays, they brought in THIS GUY: