Return of the Pelf

Danville, Kentucky -- A man cannot undo his mistakes. He can only learn to live with them. This is the lesson taught to us when we wake up on a Sunday morning with aching, heavy limbs and a throbbing migraine, with vodka sweats oozing out of our pores after a night of sorrowful drinking alone. This is the lesson taught to us when the dream of NAFTA withdrawal -- the dream of undoing the foolish trade policy mistakes of Clinton and Bush -- recedes further and further into the realm of fanciful and wishful thinking. This is a lesson the Detroit Tigers must learn after foolishly parting ways with Mike Pelfrey, electric right-handed pitcher and ground-ball artist.

The Tigers cannot now undo the mistake of unconditionally releasing Mike Pelfrey; he has been signed by the Chicago White Sox, who will happily throw him out on the mound every fifth day on the Tigers' dime. The Tigers may deeply regret this move. A White Sox rotation anchored by Mike Pelfrey and James Shields would've been quite formidable in 2010. Pelfrey will join a White Sox team that is already off to a surprisingly strong start, thanks to Detroit Tiger turned Tiger-killer Avisail Garcia, a man on a mission to exact revenge against the team that traded him at the 2013 trade deadline. Pelfrey and Avisail will find common cause in their efforts to avenge the team that said they were no good. Fangraphs keeps calling Garcia a major regression candidate, but the eye-test says he has turned a corner. Avi is seeing the ball well; he has confidence at the plate and appears to have changed his swing approach in the off-season. The Tigers dismiss the newly-stacked White Sox at their own peril, especially since they offloaded known clubhouse cancers Chris Sale and Brett Lawrie.

The Tigers must learn to live with their mistake to put Pelfrey in the hands of a hated divisional rival. They have, to a degree. They sport a winning (11-10) record. Yet their bullpen remains a bigger, stinkier, hotter mess than the Creamy Jalapeno Wings at Chili's.

The Tigers bullpen bungles high-leverage situations like Paul Ryan bungles Obamacare repeal-and-replace efforts. They could really use a guy like Pelf right now; who can wiggle his way out of jams by inducing double-plays. Unfortunately, the Tigers will now be paying Pelfrey to turn those double-plays against them.

The circumstances are cruel; Pelfrey will face off against Matthew Boyd, the handsome young man who out-pitched him for the final rotation spot back in spring training. Pelfrey doesn't have Boyd's boyish good looks or disappearing change-up, but he does have pluck born from years of major-league experience.

It won't be easy for Pelfrey to return to Comerica Park, the stadium where he was regularly greeted with groans, hisses, boos, and obscenities. Pelf is a man of steel, and won't let the cool reception he inevitably faces shake him. With ice blood in his veins, Pelfrey will twirl ground-ball after ground-ball, doubling up plodding sluggers like Victor Martinez and Alex Avila with ease. Pelf has pitched well in Comerica Park as a visiting pitcher before. As the ace of the Minnesota Twins in 2015, Pelf turned in some of his finest performances against the Tigers:

That being said, Pelf will have his work cut out for him. The Tigers offense is not at full strength with Miguel Cabrera and JD Martinez missing in action, but Jim Aducci and John Hicks are just as dangerous in their own wily, gritty way. 

He's 2-2 with 2 RBI today. Give me a 31 year old journeyman who wants his shot over blue-chip top 100 prospects any day. #Tigers https://t.co/ncG7JvIV2c

— The Will To Win (@TWTWsports) April 23, 2017

When Pelf returns to the Motor City for his first game as an opposing pitcher since his untimely release, I predict a strong effort. Pelf will labor through 5 innings of 2 run ball, the only runs coming off a mistake pitch to the red-hot Tyler Collins. The Tigers have already made the mistake of releasing Pelfrey; the worst mistake they could make now is to underestimate him.

Not the End of the Line: Omar Infante for Tigers Opening Day Center Fielder

Danville, Kentucky -- It's easy to forget what a marvel trains are. Before Al Gore's internet, before Dwight Eisenhower's interstate highways, before Henry Ford's Model-T, only railroads connected Americans to one another. America's system of rail transportation has roots dating back to the First Transcontinental Railroad of the 1860s, a marvelous but loose network of train tracks that connected the country's breadbasket to the western frontier and the still fledgling settlements on the Pacific coast. Before the dawn of the railroads, America didn't have time-zones. Life was isolated, parochial, and pastoral. The emergence of railroads made every corner of the continent accessible and revolutionized our way of life.

Folks, in the summer of '75, there was nothing better than hopping aboard a train and seeing how far it would take you. One hot, smothering day in July of that summer, I was feeling particularly defeated. The bitter taste of the Watergate scandal was still depressing my spirits. An oppressive tax code and restrictive land use ordinances were hindering my dream of opening Danville's first ever combination sports bar and daycare center. I needed to see the world beyond my humble Danville abode. I longed for the sense of adventure that my ancestors must've had as they broke fresh ground in the New World and explored the vast and uncivilized frontier lands. So I headed down to Louisville's historic Union Station. I took a train to St. Louis. Then Fort Worth. Then El Paso. I took train after train after train till I ended up in Salt Lake City, Boise, and finally Reno.

Several hundred dollars worth of train tickets and a few weeks later, there were no more trains left to ride. No more sights I hadn't seen. Unlike my ancestors who were lured out west by the promise of unexplored land and new challenges to conquer, by 1975 all the blank spaces on the map had been filled in. I didn't find adventure or new beginnings out west; all I found was a gang of bikers that jumped me and left me for dead in the desert after a misunderstanding over gambling. I can still feel the coarse sand in my beard and the midday sun beating down upon me as I laid there in Nevada's barren wastelands, my face in the dirt. I can still smell the scorched dusty earth. I can still taste the sand. It tasted like the end of the line.

Many folks are saying that Omar Infante has reached the end of the line as well. The thirty-five year old second baseman from Puerto la Cruz, Venezuela certainly seems to be past his prime, a relic of a bygone era of baseball, an anachronism like the idea of riding trains in 2017. He has had a storied career. Since making his debut with the Detroit Tigers in 2002, he has played every position except pitcher, catcher, and first base. He's been an AL Champion four times: with the Tigers in 2006 and 2012, and the Kansas City Royals in 2014 and 2015. He's had a 7 RBI game, been a postseason hero, spun gem defensive plays, and done everything else under the sun. But last season he was unceremoniously cut by Kansas City, seemingly marking the end of the line for him.

But it wasn't to be the end for Omar. Al Avila's Detroit Tigers have brought Mr. Infante's career full circle by giving him a minor league contract with an invite to spring training, and one last opportunity to prove he belongs in the majors.

Omar has risen to the occasion, folks. He sports a massive .400 batting average so far this spring. Earlier today he netted a pair of doubles and RBI while turning several eye-popping defensive plays in the field. Omar's efforts to revive his career haven't gone unnoticed.

Omar Infante continues to impress. Two-run, two-out double puts Tigers in front 4-3. His second double today

— Chris McCosky (@cmccosky) March 12, 2017

Ausmus on Infante: "He certainly has the ability to still play baseball at the Major League level."

— Jason Beck (@beckjason) March 12, 2017

Barring injuries, Omar Infante probably won't make Tigers roster. It won't be for lack of defense. Has looked good all spring.

— Jason Beck (@beckjason) March 12, 2017

Yes, that is Omar Infante tearing it up for the Detroit Tigers this spring. #VoteOmar https://t.co/zJ5NKUpskB

— Jeffrey Flanagan (@FlannyMLB) March 12, 2017

I gotta believe Omar Infante can help the #Tigers as a super-utility type.

— Tony Paul (@TonyPaul1984) March 12, 2017

Detroit Tigers' Omar Infante showing he still belongs in majors https://t.co/wPT8Gc168V via @freep @Tigers

— George Sipple (@GeorgeSipple) March 8, 2017

In spite of Omar's monstrous spring training output, the Tigers won't commit to giving him a roster spot for the regular season. That's a mistake, folks. The Tigers need to think outside the box. Mr. Infante is thinking outside the box. He suggested that he'd like to play center fielder for the Tigers.

let's go. #VoteOmar pic.twitter.com/dpEU9MdYdV

— The Will To Win (@TWTWsports) February 20, 2017

The organization should take him seriously and give him a chance. Their season depends on it.

The Tigers' infield is set: future Hall of Famer Miguel Cabrera is a fixture at first base. Gold Glove winner Ian Kinsler will be the starting second baseman. Defensive specialist Jose Iglesias will be the starting shortstop, while up-and-coming slugger Nick Castellanos mans the hot corner.

The Tigers' center field situation is much less clear. Anthony Gose struggled in Double-A last year after being demoted for a clubhouse incident with Toledo Mudhens manager Lloyd McClendon. Tyler Collins has had unfortunate incidents of his own, and has not set himself apart in spring training. Recent acquisition Mikie Mahtook has had an abysmal spring training, sporting a .074 batting average. Youngster JaCoby Jones holds the most promise but probably needs some more seasoning in Triple-A.

Omar, on the other hand, is major league ready right now. Omar's offensive explosion in spring training has laid to rest fears that his bat won't play. His glove will play in center field too. He has a total of 609 major league innings played in the outfield under his belt, including 182.2 innings in center field. Even the most ardent stats-lover would have to acknowledge Omar is the man for the job:

[source: http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/i/infanom01.shtml]

He's never committed an error in center field. His fielding percentage in center field is a perfect 100%. Folks, that's a track record that none of the Tigers' other center field options have.

Omar is the center field solution the Tigers didn't even know they had. Omar's veteran presence, playoff experience, smooth glove and hot bat would solidify the Tigers' center field situation and give the team certainty heading into the regular season. Louisville's Union Station has laid dormant for several decades, but it's clear that this is not the end of the line for Mr. Infante. It's up to the Tigers to let Omar aboard, lest he ride off into the sunset with one of their competitors.

My Little Caesars® "Pepperoni & Cheese Stuffed Crust Deep Dish Pizza" Review

Danville, Kentucky -- Folks, I'll be honest, I get depressed in the wintertime. Winter in Danville is dark, dreary, and cold. Come December, the rich Kentucky blue-grass is a garish, dead yellow color. Often times I find myself blankly staring out the window at the barren fields and mucky grey slush that litters our roads, wishing I were elsewhere. The numbing monotony of the lifeless, overcast skies sucks all the energy from me. There isn't much to look forward to in the midst of a Kentuckian winter. It can be hard to find the will to persevere.

Yet, Little Caesars has offered me hope in this deepest and darkest of winters. I'm blogging here today to spread the good word about an instant-classic 'za concoction from the good folks at Little Caesars.

I first heard about this pie during a commercial break while I was watching Hannity. It sounded like something out of a dream: a deep dish pie, with real pepperoni and mozzarella cheese stuffed into the crust.

Soak it all in, folks.

Folks, this pizza truly is a dream come true. Let me break down it's deliciousness:

DIMENSIONS

Let's talk dimensions really quick. Upon opening Little Caesars' signature orange cardboard box I was taken aback by the sheer size and girth of this pizza. This puppy features 8 slices. I want to say there is about three and a half feet of crust. Each slice is about 1.5 or 2 inches deep. If you have to carry the pizza's box for an extended period if time, you'll immediately notice it's a heavy pie: I'm told it is 10-times heavier than a regular Hot-N-Ready pizza. It has 10-times the flavor too, folks.

TOPPINGS

While this pizza is extravagant in many ways, its toppings are understated. The culinary geniuses at Little Caesars are willing to let the quality of the pie speak for itself and not overload the pizza with extraneous toppings. Nothing is worse than a pizza with too many toppings, especially when we're dealing with non-meat toppings. Who wants to eat a pizza topped with pineapple, peppers, onions, or worst of all, mushrooms? Not me - if I'm at a party and see pizza with vegetables on it, I'll be headed toward the door before you can say "anchovies."

Fortunately, the pizza I'm reviewing today recognizes the beauty of simplicity. It is adorned only with pepperoni -- very crispy and spicy pepperoni, I might add. If you're lucky, the pepperoni might be a little burnt around the edges like mine was, which imbues a rich, smoky flavor. So far, so good.

CHEESE

The cheese on this bad boy was divine. Nice and greasy, goopy, and at times, baked right into the crust so that it's difficult to tell where the cheese ends and crust begins: one seamless, cheesy pizza masterpiece. Cheese is often a bit of a throwaway item on lesser pizzas, but Little Caesars outdid themselves here. When cooked to golden brown perfection, few pizzas utilize better raw materials than the cheese featured here.

You'll want to keep a lot of napkins handy. This pizza is more slippery than Ted Cruz; it's served fresh out of the oven and dripping with hot grease. You'll want to take a shower after eating it, but make sure to take the time to luxuriate in this flavor roller-coaster along the way, folks.

SAUCE

The sauce is the secret to this pizza's brilliance. It's sweet, tomato flavor is a perfect complement to the salty, savory taste of the pepperoni. On my pie, the sauce was piping hot and spilling out from underneath of its blanket of melted mozzarella cheese. It gets messy folks, which is just how I like my pizza. Be warned though, due to the greasiness and general sloppiness of this pizza, the Little Caesars® "Pepperoni & Cheese Stuffed Crust Deep Dish Pizza" might not be appropriate to eat at formal occasions like a business meeting or romantic encounter.

CRUST

The pepperoni was stuffed in the breading with care.

The crust is where the magic happens on this pie, folks. Pizza novices should be aware that this is a Detroit-style, square deep dish pizza; not round, Chicago-style deep dish or wimpy New York-style pizza. Notably, each slice is a corner slice, intensifying the toasty goodness of each bite. Prepare yourself accordingly. This crust is not for the faint of heart. It's thick. It's heavy. It's dense. I skipped breakfast and fasted prior to eating this pizza for lunch; if you don't have an empty stomach before eating this pie you might not get through more than a half a slice.

The crust is perfectly textured: buttery, crispy, flaky, crunchy. Satisfying as hell to eat. But folks, let's get to the main attraction. You weren't here to read about the cheese or sauce or toppings. This pizza is all about what's hidden inside.

Folks, the pepperoni and cheese stuffed crust was world-changing as advertised. The entire length of the crust was stuffed with the equivalent of six-feet worth of spicy, tongue-singeing pepperoni and cheese. This is a very family-friendly pizza: if you have children, they'll love playing with the cheese that is stuffed in the crust, as it is very stretchy. For adult consumers, the savory notes of the "Pepperoni & Cheese Stuffed Crust Deep Dish Pizza" pairs nicely with Boone's Farm wines and Kentucky Deluxe whiskey.

The pepperoni in the crust was of an even higher quality than the pepperoni that rested atop the pizza; I can't confirm this, but my intuition is that the the pepperoni stuffed in the crust was closer to deli/sandwich style pepperoni. It was thinner, but had a richer, porkier taste. You could tell that each pepperoni was tucked into the crust with the same gentle, loving touch that a mother might use while tucking her children into bed. I could taste the care that went into making this magisterial pie, folks. You can't fake the deep, undying affection that goes into making this pizza. This is the type of pizza that could only be created by the warm, tender touch of a human. You'll appreciate your memories of eating hand-crafted delicacies one day when robots enslave humanity and force us to eat industrially-manufactured sludge.

CONCLUSION

The Little Caesars® "Pepperoni & Cheese Stuffed Crust Deep Dish Pizza" is a culinary triumph, a comprehensive victory unlike anything America has seen since Donald Trump's triumph on November 8th. I would give it two thumbs up, five stars, 10 out of 10, 100% fresh. You won't be disappointed folks, and if you're a fan of the Detroit Tigers, you should feel doubly satisfied as your money will go towards helping Little Caesars CEO and Detroit Tigers owner Mike Ilitch pay the fantastic Mike Pelfrey's contract.

That being said, there is still room for improvement. For one, it's a travesty that Little Caesars doesn't allow you to order this pizza with bacon wrapped around the crust. A "Bacon-Wrapped, Pepperoni & Cheese Stuffed Crust Deep Dish Pizza" is exactly what America needs right now. In addition, Little Caesars should allow more customization of this pizza. Why not offer a meat-lovers version that is both topped and stuffed with bacon, ham, hamburger, and Italian sausage? In a country primed for an economic rebound because of the election of Trump, there would certainly be demand for such a hot commodity. In addition, Little Caesars should consider letting customers choose what type of cheese to stuff their crust with: offering some sort of three-cheese blend or spicy nacho cheese stuffing is a no-brainer, folks. In the long term, offering a mac-and-cheese stuffed crust pizza makes a lot of sense too.

This is already a perfect pizza but there's so much room to improve it and take it in new, exciting directions. I look forward to seeing the next generation of stuffed crust pizzas as Little Caesars continues to boldly innovate and experiment with tasty new varieties of a classic American staple. If nothing else, they've put a smile on one Kentucky man's face.

One of My Heroes Eating the Little Caesars® "Pepperoni & Cheese Stuffed Crust Deep Dish Pizza" 

They're Shuttin' Detroit Down: The Tragedy of the Tigers' Offseason

Danville, Kentucky -- America is a country that likes to live above its means. We love the frosty kiss of sweet, sweet artificial flavors and coloring so much that we grab the 44 ounce Slurpee instead of the more reasonably sized 16 ounce or 22 ounce cup. We can't fathom eating only 12 delicious boneless wings at Buffalo Wild Wings, so we order 18 of them instead. A 6 inch philly cheese-steak, dripping with sumptuous melted cheddar, would never suffice; we demand a foot-long sandwich. Regular SUVs are too 'beta' for many burly American men; so they drive colossal gas-guzzling Hummers. The M60 Patton tank was a thing of beauty, but when America defends freedom abroad these days our men and women in uniform use the gargantuan, 70-ton M1 Abrams tank. Americans homeowners love to buy big and flashy houses to signal our pride and success so much that we created a practice called sub-prime lending and caused an economic collapse. Americans love to go big or go home, regardless of price. It is a glorious lifestyle.

Folks, the Detroit Tigers are an All-American franchise. Their elderly owner Mike Ilitch has tried to spend his way to a World Series. But they too have been living beyond their means. The chunky contracts of Justin Verlander, Miguel Cabrera, Victor Martinez, Jordan Zimmermann, Justin Upton, and even the long-departed-but-still-on-the-payroll Prince Fielder, have finally caught up to the team, like a hefty bar tab that you hoped wouldn't come due.

Like a pissed off loan shark, 2nd year General Manager Al Avila has come to collect on Ilitch's overdue debts. The party is over, the guests are rushing towards the door, and Mr. Ilitch is about to get stuck with that eye-popping bill that nobody wanted to foot.

Folks, they're shutting Detroit down. Packing it in. Hanging up the cleats. Folding up the tent. Closing the window of contention. In an ominous press conference several weeks ago, Avila proclaimed "changes are coming" to the Tigers and that "we want to get younger, we want to get leaner, we want to run the organization without having to go over the means of the organization." They've already traded the loveable Cameron Maybin, a true fan favorite and spark-plug. There's talks of trading 2 time AL MVP and Triple-Crown winner Miguel Cabrera. There's talk of trading the 2011 AL MVP and Cy Young winner, Justin Verlander. There's talks of trading Ian Kinsler, the gritty-as-heck gold glove second-baseman. There's even talks of trading the electric Mike Pelfrey.

That's not what I would do if I were the GM. I would largely keep the current roster intact and try to patch-up the Tigers' weaknesses via free agency. The Tigers need a backup catcher? Alex Avila, the GM's son who so diligently handled the pitching staff for all those years, is available for a reunion. Need insurance at DH or another outfielder? Chris Carter and his 41 dingers can be had for a bargain price. Need to improve the Tigers' pitching staff? Fernando Rodney, Joe Blanton, and Rich Hill are obvious targets. Proven winners like Ryan Howard and Stephen Drew are available as well.

In spite of this bountiful free agent class, every indication points to a major downsizing of the Tigers' payroll. At a time when Donald Trump is bringing back blue-collar jobs to the rust belt, Mike Ilitch and Al Avila are going to send Detroit Tiger jobs abroad. Lifelong Detroit Tiger Verlander is by all indications headed to Hollywood.

Justin Verlander's new house is 19.2 miles from Dodger Stadium. https://t.co/4Cca9N14HE

— Bill Shea (@Bill_Shea19) December 1, 2016

Folks, a mass exodus of all baseball talent is not what the city of Detroit needs right now. The Pistons are coming back to Detroit. Thanks to Trump, manufacturing jobs are coming back to Detroit too. The Tigers nearly pulled off a comeback of their own this past season, falling just a couple games short of a playoff berth. Now is the time to double down and make one last run with this current roster. Don't blow up the team. Trading "face of the franchise" players like Verlander and Cabrera would be an insult to loyal fans. Comerica Park would be emptier than Tropicana Field or a Hillary Clinton rally. It would be a betrayal of the fans who have stuck by the team through thick and thin. It would be a betrayal of future Hall-of-Famer Miguel Cabrera, who has said he wants to retire a Tiger.

The Tigers' spending problems will naturally resolve themselves as several big contracts expire after the 2017 season. Listen: I like deal-makers, that's why I admired Dave Dombrowski and why I'm excited about eight years of Trump. If somebody calls Al Avila and offers a top prospect for Verlander or Cabrera, you have to listen. Or at least not hang up immediately, like I do when my parole officer calls. But the first rule of deal-making is to not seem desperate: if the guy on the other end of the phone senses panic, your leverage will evaporate. Stay strong, Mr. Avila. But remember: the fans will be heartbroken next season if Miguel Cabrera is wearing Bostonian red socks and Justin Verlander is wearing Dodger blue.

I hate this #mlbtheshow #PS4share pic.twitter.com/SeqCqjqiwA

— jingleswithbells (@catswithbats) November 6, 2016

What can be done? If you live in Michigan, write letters to your state Senators and Representatives. Tell them to slap steep tariffs on out-of-state baseball products if Avila trades popular players away. But at the end of the day, Mr. Avila needs to do the right thing: don't outsource Detroit's baseball talent to elitist teams on the coasts. The true fans would rather Let the Detroit Tigers Go Bankrupt from awful contracts than look Verlander and Cabrera in the eye and tell them that their run with the Tigers is over. Out on the coasts, in the land of high payrolls - Los Angeles, Boston, New York - they're still living it up. Here in the real world, they're shutting Detroit down.

Prospects of Future Past: Jacob Turner Returns

Danville, Kentucky -- It was not supposed to happen like this, Jacob Turner thought to himself, after giving up 8 runs in 4 innings in his White Sox debut last Sunday. A former top prospect and first round draft pick, young Jacob had all the trappings of an arm-of-destiny: a solid bet to anchor the Detroit Tigers rotation for years to come.

Yet, things do not always go as planned. Sometimes you have to quit your job on the basis of principle when the boss won't let you take your kid to work. Sometimes Gingrich doesn't get the VP nod like you predicted. Sometimes the wife wins that custody battle even though your lawyer said it was a slam dunk. Sometimes Lyin' Ted isn't forthcoming with that party-uniting endorsement. Sometimes corrupt politicians suffer no consequences for breaking the law and emailing on the job. Sometimes the overworked and sleep-deprived drive-through guy ruins your night by giving you Fire sauce instead of Diablo.

Sometimes, if you're Jacob Turner, the team that drafted you trades you in a patented Dombrowski deadline deal for Omar Infante and Anibal Sanchez. For Jacob Turner, it was a slow and painful descent into near-irrelevance; traded from the Miami Marlins to the Chicago Cubs for spare parts and sliding down top-prospects lists before being claimed off the waiver-wire by the team from Chicago's south side.

As last night's rain-shortened duel between Mike Pelfrey and James Shields established, this will be a tightly contested series between the White Sox and Tigers. Today, the arm of Detroit's yesterday will face the arm of Detroit's tomorrow. Jacob Turner will compete against the indomitable Michael Fulmer, another centerpiece of a Dombrowski deadline deal.

Jacob, sporting a 90-94 mph fastball and a plummeting curveball, will face his former team with a workmanlike stoicism, gaining no extra spark of motivation or chutzpah from anger at the organization that wantonly dealt him to the Marlins. Jacob Turner isn't a man to hold a grudge, just like the biblical figure Jacob ultimately forgave his sons Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher, Issachar, Zebulun, and Benjamin for their fratricidal plot against their own brother, Joseph. Michael Fulmer approaches the art of pitching with a similar quiet and bulldog-like determination, having never been one to be fazed by tall buildings and bright lights. It's a trait that will serve both pitchers well as they attempt to stake out their place in MLB history.

Jacob Turner's future has not yet been written; he may still blossom into a sturdy major league arm under the instruction of veteran leaders like Big Game James and Chris Sale. Yet, time is running out for both Jacob Turner and the White Sox. The White Sox front office has declared it will not pursue short-term rental players and has even hinted at the possibility of a deadline fire-sale. It was not supposed to happen like this, yet events have taken unanticipated twists and turns since General Manager Rick Hahn proclaimed Chicago's window of contention open several years ago. Starting Jacob Turner in crucial July games was Hahn's 'Plan D', a "break glass in case of emergency" option to be explored only after Mat Latos, John Danks, and other alternatives had been exhausted. Yet past is past and only the future remains, an infinite horizon of possibility. To make the most of Chicago's shrinking window of opportunity, the prospect of future past will have to defeat the arm of today's tomorrow.

Sins of the Father: The Avila Story

Danville, Kentucky -- They say a man spends his entire life fighting for the approval of his father. As boys, we spend our childhood in the symbolic shadow of an elusive paternal figure, eager to emulate his strengths and learn from his failings. My own father was a great man. He introduced me to baseball, hunting, and sweet Kentucky bourbon. I remember spending sticky, sunburnt days with him at the old Crosley Field, marveling at the prowess of greats like ace Jimmy Maloney and the slick-fielding Woody Woodward, the Tyler Saladino of his time. The ballpark experience was different then. In the era before the price-inflating effects of NAFTA, hot dogs cost less than a buck a pop, a bargain for working families like my own. My dad was my hero. He taught me the value of teamwork, playing the game the right way, always hustling down the line, and pitching to contact and the score. Lessons that would see me through many hardships.

Yet, Ezekiel 18:19 tells us that the son bears the iniquities of the father, and indeed, I still carry the burden of my father's shortcomings. 1972 was a time for choosing; between the steely resolve of Nixon and the untested grassroots hucksterism of George McGovern. McGovern's naivete and glossy-eyed idealism would've been disastrous to a country in the midst of a Cold War against the cruel and failed ideology of communism. At a time when America was waging war against the enemies of freedom around the world, George McGovern proposed slashing the defense budget and pronounced: "Come home, America." McGovern's sunny disposition was simply anachronistic at a time when democracy was under siege and dominoes were primed to fall. He hoodwinked otherwise noble men like my father by promising a grossly expanded welfare state and government hand-outs. My father and I had much in common. We loved utility infielders, sacrifice bunting, frankfurters, and the smell of gun-powder after firing a hunting rifle in the Kentucky backwoods. But our differences had become irreconcilable. Drawn to the siren song of socialism like a moth to a flame, my father voted for McGovern at a time when our country needed Dick Nixon. We have spoken to each other only grudgingly since.

Alex Avila is another man suffering for the sins of his father. Alex was a cornerstone player on the 2011-2014 Detroit Tigers teams that won the AL Central Division four times in a row and were perennial World Series contenders. He deserves credit for the Cy Young studded pitching staffs of these teams. He provided veteran leadership behind the dish and cerebral game-calling prowess for a pitching staff filled with excellent hurlers like Justin Verlander, Max Scherzer, Rick Porcello, and Drew Smyly. On a team of free-swingers, Alex showed sturdy plate discipline and patience. In his absence, the 2016 Tigers have struggled to generate consistent production from the catcher position.

Why then, did the Tigers let Mr. Avila walk, only to watch him sign a reasonable contract with the division rival Chicago White Sox? Like myself back in 1972, Alex was betrayed by his father: Al Avila, general manager of the Tigers. Fearing accusations of nepotism, Avila Sr. parted ways with his own son in a cruel and callous fashion. A family reunion of sorts will take place this weekend, as the White Sox visit the Tigers for a three game series. It will be hard for Alex Avila, upon his return to Comerica Park, not to reminisce on the feelings of pain and rejection inflicted by his own father last offseason.

Alex has been a blessing to the 2016 White Sox; in a clubhouse shaken by the sudden absence of Drake LaRoche, Avila has been an achor of stability and reliability. His pre-existing friendship with former-Tigers Austin Jackson and Avisail Garcia has been a boon to the team's chemistry.

He has helped studs like Chris Sale and Jose Quintana achieve their God-given potential with his superb game-calling skills. Yet, Alex can't help but feel dissatisfied, as he still bleeds, hurts, and fights for the approval of his father. For the White Sox to truly scale the peaks of baseball glory, Alex must forgive the sins of his father. A man cannot thrive in the present while dwelling on the follies of the past. For Alex Avila, the dream of reconciliation with his father must be superseded by the dream of a World Series championship.

The Ballad of Drew Smyly

Danville, Kentucky -- Arkansas is a down-to-earth, no nonsense kind of place. Folks root for their favorite team, the Razorbacks. They eat their favorite dish, Possum Pie. When corrupt politicians like the Clintons get caught in the act of conning the little guy, as they did in Whitewater-gate, the people of Arkansas demand accountability.

Drew Smyly -- a hardworking kid from Maumelle, Arkansas with a dream -- is a down-to-earth, no nonsense kind of pitcher. He doesn't light up the radar gun. He plies his trade with excellent location and crisp breaking pitches. When Smyly left his fellow hurlers, Justin Verlander, Max Scherzer, Anibal Sanchez, and Rick Porcello to start anew with the communist sympathizing Tampa Bay Rays, he was just a learner. Now, Drew is the master.

Since the blockbuster trade that brought David Price to the Detroit Tigers, Drew has the best ERA in the AL. His already impressive strikeout rate has climbed upward like my own credit card debt. Today, he'll square off against new Tigers pitching prospect Michael Fulmer. This isn't the first time Drew has faced his former team. Yet, the otherwise indomitable left-hander will nonetheless feel pangs in his heart as he revisits the team that give him his shot in the majors. He had some good times in the Olde English D. He got his first taste of the playoffs in the 2013, and also his first taste of the crushing bitterness of playoff elimination. He got to be the little brother and mentee of Cy Young winners like Verlander and Scherzer.

But it all came to an abrupt end one day, when he was traded mid-game to a franchise that was foreign and alien to him. When he takes the field at Comerica Park this evening, Drew will remember the emotions of that hot July afternoon almost two years ago:

Both on and off the field it was clear Smyly was emotional as he came to terms with the fact he'd been traded. While he's looking forward to this new part of his life, it's still a bittersweet moment. "Tampa is excited to have me, so I'm excited to be there. A team that wants you is always nice, but this is all I know, so it sucks leaving." [source: http://www.blessyouboys.com/2014/7/31/5957655/for-drew-smyly-and-austin-jackson-thursdays-trade-was-a-bittersweet]

Would the Tigers take back that trade if they could? The win-now acquisition of David Price didn't net Pizza Mogul Mike Ilitch's long-desired World Series championship, but you could hardly blame Mr. Dombrowski for making the move. Nonetheless, Todd Andrew Smyly does not entertain such hindsight thinking. He's a man solely focused on missing bats and recording outs. He's a kid with a Cy Young award in his future, if he can get a gaudy win/loss record that matches his pedigree and work ethic. Drew's pitching mastery will continue against the Tigers today, in a simple yet brilliant manner that elite Arkansans like Crooked Hillary will never understand. The good people of Detroit will be understandably frustrated as a former-Tiger twirls a gem versus his former team, but all Drew can do is smile.

Role Reversal: TWTW's Zimmermann vs. Scherzer Preview

credit: Fox Sports

Danville, Kentucky -- "What are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot?," asked the young Alexander Hamilton to his co-patriots, Aaron Burr, Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens, and Marquis de Lafayette, the feisty French freedom fighter. Jordan Zimmermann will ask himself a similar question as he returns to our great nation's capitol, a city built by the unceasing labor and determination of Treasury Secretary Hamilton and our nation's other founding fathers.

Indeed, the stars have aligned for a fortuitous pitching match-up, a showdown as unlikely as America's democratic experiment itself. Jordan Zimmermann will return to Washington D.C. -- the city named for the nation's first commander-in-chief that Mr. Hamilton served so loyally -- to pitch against Max Scherzer. Both pitchers will toe the rubber against their former teams. It is a duel between former teammates, more dramatic than Hamilton vs. Burr. I hold this truth to be self-evident: that all pitching matchups are not created equal.

The prospect of competing against the organizations that nurtured and raised them will arouse a host of mixed emotions in both Mr. Zimmermann and Mr. Scherzer.

Scherzer has bantered about his desire to compete against the Triple Crown-touting Miguel Cabrera, but internally feels apprehension. Nonetheless, Scherzer's anxieties will be tempered by the superhuman-slugging 6′ 2″, 23-year old native of Las Vegas that now sits in his corner.

Jordan is a more stoic man. In Auburndale, Wisconsin, boys are raised not to lose their cool or show emotion. If you get hurt, you dust yourself off, rub salt on your wounds and get back on the horse. To Jordan, pitching is just another job. As a child, Jordan worked from dusk till dawn on cold, northern farmlands. He approaches baseball with a similar stubborn Bulldog-like work ethic, but will nonetheless feel nostalgia upon returning to the beltway.

A time may come when the radical potential of American democracy is fulfilled via a Donald Trump presidency, but for now we'll have to settle for this game. America is a land where anything is possible. Where two franchise cornerstone pitchers can switch franchises and compete against each other. Where even mild-mannered utility infielders like Andrew Romine get to play hero once in a while. Where a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman can wind up on the ten-dollar bill. As fans of the Washington Nationals and Detroit Tigers converge to watch this serendipitous game just footsteps away from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, we should take time to appreciate the sheer splendor of America's centuries-old experiment with democracy and our national pastime.

TWTW's Opening Day Preview: Detroit Tigers @ Miami Marlins

Danville, Kentucky -- Time: its passage is as inexorable as it is cruel. With each tick of the clock, time passes like rain on the mountain, like wind in the meadow, like Chile con queso slips between a man's fingers if he's bold enough to thrust a hand into the skillet and lay claim to the cheesy goodness for himself. Time passes, but memories of simpler times and younger days do not.

Memory can be a refuge of comfort, nostalgia, and consolation, but memory can also pierce, sear, and sting like a hot needle in an amateur do-it-yourself ear piercing operation. Baseball is a game of memory. The game honors its golden-era forebears, and judges each new generation of players using these heroes as a benchmark.

For Justin Verlander and the Detroit Tigers, their season-opener vs. the Miami Marlins will arouse a variety of memories --- mostly negative. Justin Verlander will face Wei-Yin Chen, Taiwan's finest son. This game is not considered a marquee match-up in 2016, a year of statistical inundation and sabermetric besiegement. Yet, for Verlander, this is the match-up of a lifetime.

October 3rd, 2014. Game 2 of the American League Divisional Series between the Baltimore Orioles and Detroit Tigers. A cold and salty Autumn breeze was blowing in from the nearby harbor. With Max Scherzer having failed to silence the bombastic Orioles offense the night before, Mr. Verlander was tasked with playing stopper. His opponent was Baltimore's Taiwanese lefty, Wei-Yin Chen. A game 2 win would tie the series and give the Tigers a chance to take a series lead on their home-field with David Price on the mound. In years past, Justin had been the man to single-handedly keep the Tigers' playoff hopes alive. He put the team on his back and delivered wins in games 1 and 5 of the 2012 ALDS and game 3 of the 2012 ALCS. In 2013 he once again delivered a game 5 win in the ALDS, while allowing 1 run the entire postseason.

In game 2 of the 2014 ALDS, that Verlander was nowhere to be found. Justin, the man who only a postseason ago was a complete game-throwing strikeout machine, went 5 innings --- putting the game in the hands of a bullpen less trustworthy than Megyn Kelly. The results were predictable. Though the voracious right-handed slugging Tigers lineup had pounded Wei-Yin Chen like mainland China might one day decimate Wei-Yin's native Taiwan in a hypothetical cross-Strait war, Joba Chamberlain and Joakim Soria's entry into the game was rightfully greeted with cheers from the Baltimore audience as they conspired to squander a winnable game. The Orioles took a 2-0 lead in the series before winning game 3 in Detroit to complete the sweep. The Detroit Tigers have not played playoff baseball since.

Tomorrow's Tigers-Marlins match-up is not considered particularly sexy by the fangraphs crowd. Both teams project to be middle-of-the-pack in their respective divisions, if you are foolish enough to believe projections. Other opening day showdowns have more compelling story-lines; take the re-match between the World Champion Kansas City Royals™ and the runner-up New York Mets, for instance. I planned to write a preview of last night's Matt Harvey v. Edinson Volquez face-off, but I've been in a spiraling haze of depressive alcoholism for the past few days as polling data shows Ted Cruz leads Donald Trump in Wisconsin.

Casual baseball fans could be forgiven for not caring about this Tigers-Marlins match-up. But for Justin Verlander, this game means the world. Longing for redemption, he has a chance to help the team get off to a good start as the Tigers take on the Marlins in Miami. To do so, he'll have to do what he couldn't do in 2014: beat Wei-Yin Chen, ex-Oriole and key free agent signing by Miami. Justin, restored to his rightful role as opening day starter after temporarily yielding the position to Max Scherzer in 2014 and David Price in 2015, knows what must be done. A time will come for reflection on his disappointing 2014 and quiet, unheralded brilliance down the stretch in 2015, but it is not this day. On this opening day, Justin will take the mound with a steely eyed-determination. Metrics don't respect the Marlins, but Justin will. Giancarlo Stanton is the baseball equivalent of a B-52 bomber. Dee Gordon and Ichiro are better at slap-hitting than my ex-wives. Opening day will be a test, but Justin is ready for it.

After his opening day start, Justin Verlander will take the most well-known Upton in the Tigers organization out to a secluded spot on the beach and sip a tropical beverage adorned with a colorful little umbrella. As he gazes wistfully at the Atlantic Ocean, illuminated by the mingling orange, pink, and golden hues of the Miami sunset, Justin will accept that he cannot undo the failures of 2014 and 2015.

the sun sets in Miami, but not upon Verlander.

The agonizing memories of Nelson Cruz and Adam Jones and J.J. Hardy celebrating their berth to the ALCS on the Tigers' home turf cannot be un-etched from Justin's psyche. Yet, each new baseball season offers the possibility of absolution from the sins of yesterday. Justin will slowly sip on his cocktail, feeling inner serenity and tranquility.

Time passes and players come and go, but Justin draws strength from his status as the immovable pillar of the Tigers' franchise since debuting with the team in 2006. The script for 2016 is largely the same as 2015, albeit with some new cast-members like Jordan Zimmerman, Justin Upton, and Mike Pelfrey. Justin, Detroit's Once and Future Ace, has to find a way to defy time and deliver his team to the October Classic. Justin is not a man who excels in a Best Supporting Actor role, playing sidekick to Scherzer or Price. He is a man who relishes the spotlight and all its attendant pressures and expectations. Justin has restored himself as Detroit's unquestioned leader. He must now restore baseball in Detroit.

Affordable Electricity: In Defense of Mike Pelfrey

Danville, Kentucky -- Our society takes electricity for granted. It keeps our houses warm in winter, and cools them down in summer. Electricity keeps the freezer icy so we can have chilled Fireball on demand. Electricity brought us the gift of Buffalo Wild Wings, and its techno-utopian panoply of massive plasma-screen televisions; so that no man would be forced to miss out on a pivotal sporting event while using the facilities. Each successive generation of Americans tries to guarantee that the country we bestow upon the next generation is even greater than the one we inherited from our mothers and fathers. My generation is able to simultaneously utilize a Buffalo Wild Wings restroom and watch a baseball game, thanks to the wisdom of previous generations of Americans and the miracle of affordable electricity.

Affordable electricity: a phrase that perfectly describes right-handed pitcher Mike Pelfrey, yet seems quaint in the age of Obama and his energy-strangling regulations. Mike Pelfrey, who once donned the lightning-yellow attire of the Wichita State Shockers, knows all about electricity.

Pelfrey Will Shock his Doubters

Make no mistake: a brief look at Pelfrey's resume and his pitching arsenal reveals a man that is both electric and affordable. Financially speaking, 2 years and 16 million dollars is a small price to pay for a man that will anchor a Detroit rotation that was woefully over-reliant on untested farmhands like Buck Farmer, Kyle Ryan, and Shane Greene last season. Signing Pelfrey is a slick depth move that will give youngbloods like Matt Boyd and Michael Fulmer time to cut their teeth in the minor leagues.

His arsenal is impressive as well. With his Tommy John surgery now further back in the rear-view mirror, his velocity was up last season. He throws his fastball hard and his offspeed pitches soft, featuring a wicked splitter and sinker that keeps hitters off balance. Mr. Pelfrey stands to be a major beneficiary of the recently-improved Tigers defense as well.

In spite of the signing's obvious logic, the acquisition of Mike Pelfrey by the Detroit Tigers has become one of the most maligned moves of the offseason, with the basement-dwellers at Fangraphs calling it the #9 worst move of the offseason. Eno Sarris and his disciples disparage the Pelf's xFIP, claiming that his Ks are declining faster than Rubio's chances at becoming the Republican nominee.

Two years for the worst pitcher in baseball by one of the most important stats … https://t.co/elDysCxpFE Congratulations, Tigers!

— Eno Sarris (@enosarris) December 4, 2015

Metrics don't like him; people who watch the game with their own two eyeballs do. I'm a longtime fan of Pelf, and considered him All-Star worthy last year. The Tiger scouts know what they saw when they told Al Avila to sign him. Even Dartmouth nerd Brad Ausmus got it right when he said the Pelfrey signing was based on "the eye test."

It would be a mistake more grave than hosting a private email server to believe that Pelfrey has nothing to contribute to the 2016 Tigers. Like the 2016 Tigers, the 2015 Twins were pronounced dead on arrival by the pre-season projections. When the 2015 Twins defied the proclamations of nerds and outperformed their projections, it was in no small part due to Pelfrey's suave stylings and steady leadership. Thanks to Pelfrey's contributions the 2015 Twins had a winning record and were playoff contenders, finishing second-place in the AL Central after every analyst (other than me) pegged them as a last-place team. There isn't an arm in the league you'd rather have on your side if your season depends on proving the nerds wrong.

Mike is a Man of Character with a Proven Track Record

Not only can Pelfrey beat the odds: he can beat the Royals.

The 2016 Tigers need to beat the 2015 World Champion Kansas City Royals™ if they want to contend. Fortunately for the Tigers, Mike Pelfrey has been able to do what David Price, Matt Harvey and Jacob DeGrom couldn't do: beat the Royals. The Twins were undefeated in Mr. Pelfrey's 3 starts versus Kansas City last season, including a merciless shutout against the team that would eventually take the crown. Compare that to supposed ace Chris Sale; the White Sox lost both his starts versus the Royals last season. The path to the AL Central pennant runs through Kansas City, an aggressive hitting team that doesn't strikeout or walk. Against a team like that, you need a guy like Pelfrey who can produce weak contact and let the defense do the rest.

More important than Pelfrey's velocity or his ground-ball percentage is his fortitude. Born and raised in Wichita, Kansas -- a city I like to think of as the Detroit of the Heartland because of its manufacturing acumen -- Mr. Pelfrey is a man who knows rust, weathered iron, and billowing smoke stacks like the back of his hand. He's an underdog man from an underdog city. He will fit in well playing in the Motor City. This is a man who has stayed true to his roots; he was a Met, but there are no New York Values here -- just good old fashioned Mid West decency and work ethic.

Work ethic is perhaps the singularly most discounted factor in an era of STEAMER, ZiPs, and FIP. A man's K% or HR/FB ratio may regress, but work ethic doesn't. Hard work is what made America great, and it is what will make America great again. In lesser countries, wantonly consuming electricity with countless televisions in a sports bar would be considered excessive. But in America, it is my God given right to drunkenly bumble into a restroom full of flat screen TVs that are covered in the buffalo-sauce fingerprints of the great men who came before me. I believe in Buffalo Wild Wings. I believe in America. I believe in Mike Pelfrey.