As opening day approaches and the anticipation of baseball is in the air

I thought that I would pass this on, a few thoughts  I'd like to share


What the Tigers Mean to Me!

You ask me why I wear this Olde D upon my hat
Or why I keep this glove or this old baseball bat
You wonder why I await the spring with such anticipation
It is the game of baseball, the pastime of our Nation
You think it such a mystery, that I do this every year?
And tho they win or lose, I watch my Tigers every year

Growing up in Detroit, I have memories so fond
Of winters icy cold, when I would skate upon a pond
Of autumns when the foliage  would fall down from the trees
Playing football on the lawn amidst the autumn leaves.
But nothing can compare to the memories so dear
When springtime came around with a Tiger season near

The Last year was forgotten, no matter good or bad
And we knew this would be our year, and good times would be had
We heard of all the trades in the winter time each year
And there would be new Tigers on the field for us to cheer
But most of our old heroes would be back again to play
I couldn’t wait for that first pitch to be thrown on opening day

I should have been in school doing english or my math
But not for me on opening day, I chose a different path
The snow would all be melted and the grass would start to grow
And the Voice of Ernie Harwell would come on the radio
The anticipation built with baseball not so far away
Looking forward to the day when the Tigers started play

I remember one long summer, our city torn apart
They said there was a curfew and we couldn’t leave our yard
People burning buildings made a shambles of our town
And LBJ sent troops and tanks to put the riots down
The Tigers came so close that year, it almost felt like heaven
But it wasn’t meant to be in the year of sixty seven

When springtime came around, each year I could hardly wait
But the best year of all was the year of sixty eight
The year before was over, a summer long and hot
We came so close, and lost to Yaz, but now it mattered not
The ump cried out  “play ball” and the Tigers took the field
Spring was in the air, and the Winter had to yield

All summer long, wed gather and  listen to the games
Sitting on the porch as Ernie called out all the names
In left field, Willie Horton- Al Kaline out in Right
Cash, Freehan and Stanley, were all ready for the fight
The Gater, Wert and Lolich were on our mighty team
It was a magic summer, on the field of baseball dreams

Denny mowed em down all year from innings one to nine
And hardly did we lose a game when Denny pitched so fine
With pictures on the TV of a war so far away
Our problems all forgotten when the Tigers came to play
All year long, we led the league, the town was all abuzz
Black and  white, all tiger fans- even the fuzz

Many times I took a trip down Michigan avenue
And for fifty cents, I sat out in the bleachers with a view
Nothing could be finer and my heart beat like a drum
When I saw my heroes on the field at Tiger Stadium
Against Red Sox, White Sox, Indians, and even the hated Yanks
My dad would take me to the games and buy me ballpark franks

The season done, the Tigers beat the Os by a dozen games
And into the World Series for the best of seven games
The nuns all knew there was no point in having class
They even prayed for victory that day at morning mass
We gathered in the gym that fall to watch the Tigers play
Children, priests, and nuns were there on that historic day

The series didnt start so well, we lost three games of four
Gibson won his battles, but we would win the war
Things were looking grim until Lolich came along
Northrup hit a granny, like hed done all season long
The series turned around when Willie Horton gunned down Brock
When the Tigers won the series-into streets the people flocked

Detroit has seen its share   of times that werent so good
Getting  beat by Nolan Ryan, Jim Palmer and Wilbur Wood
I saw Mantle, Aaron and Rice, McGwire and Carew
The Robinsons of Baltimore and Harmon Killebrew
All the stars came to Detroit, and Reggie hit the lights
My fondest moments spent on Tiger days and Tiger nights

Another charge was made in the year of seventy two
Against the Oakland A’s with Campaneris and Vida Blue
We had Brinkman in at Shortstop and Aurelio at Third
We lost that year, but then there was the season of the bird
The town was all agog when Fidrych took the mound
Talking to the baseball and mowing hitters down

I remember  nineteen eighty four, when we started out on fire
Sparky in the dugout and the team went wire to wire
Morris shut em down and Hernandez slammed the door
Parrish, Evans and Chester, who was better than LeFlore
Mustard on a hot dog, onions on the sausage
Whitaker and Trammell, and Gibby slamming Gossage

Seasons come and seasons go, some happy and some sad
But I never will forget those precious moments with my dad
Memories of my childhood, collecting baseball cards
Going to Tiger games down at the old ballyard
Now Ive grown, my dad is gone, and if you wonder bout the D
You just have no idea what the Tigers mean to me

This is a FanPost and does not necessarily reflect the views of the <em>Bless You Boys</em> writing staff.

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