Words can’t describe how unbelievably perturbed I am with the Tigers’ latest “effort” during the first two games of a pivotal series against the Twins.
Where is the pride? Where is the heart? Where is the pitching?
No one would confuse the Tigers pitchers with other fine staffs in St Louis, New York or San Francisco. But at least the pitchers kept Detroit in the game on most nights. I’ve known all year the offense had lost a lot of its punch, so I clung to the hope that the pitchers could hold together — even if it had to be with duck tape and gum — long enough to get into the playoffs.
(Continue to Michigan and Trumbull)