I wrote the essay below in 2002 - four years ago and before it was kitschy to love the Detroit Tigers for setting in records for futility.

The subject is the height of any sports fan's dream: not only to be there when your team reaches the pinnacle, but to know you where there when they were at rock bottom, too. To know that you journeyed the whole way up with the team, the city, and the people you love.

Next week, win or lose, the Tigers will be on top of the world. I thought it was a good idea to remember where they came from. And to remember that I have always been a Tigers fan, and no matter what, I always always will be.

I love the Detroit Tigers and you should too.
July 2002

A month ago, the Detroit Red Wings won their 10th Stanley Cup. Simply put, they are the greatest hockey team ever assembled. Their victory parade attracted over a million Michiganders to downtown Detroit. You know it’s love if you’re willing to travel to Detroit for your team. You can bet your bottom dollar that I would have been at that parade if I hadn’t been in England at the time. I love those red bastards.

But so what? It’s easy to love the Red Wings. They win all the goddamn time. Even when they lose, they go down fighting a blood feud. For the record: I hate the Colorado Avalanche. They have a great collection of players - some of the best ever. Yzerman, Federov, Shanahan. The Detroit scouting staff, particularly those based in Europe, are the envy of the hockey universe. Lidstrom, Datsuyk, Fischer - all taken with late-round draft picks. Management has the know-how and the financial commitment to sign the best free agents. It’s no accident Hasek, Hull, and Robitaille took pay-cuts to play in Detroit. Scotty Bowman is the best coach ever. I mean, come on, people hide octopuses in their pants for every sellout home game. They’ve got more Stanley Cup banners than any other American team. The Detroit Red Wings are the cat’s pyjamas. They’ve got it all. What’s not to love? When do they ever put your faith in the team on the line? When do they ever ask for your support in the dark days? Rooting for the Detroit Red Wings is like Jim’s sister - easy.

Rooting for the Detroit Tigers? Now that takes balls of steel. At the All-Star break, they are in last place in the American League. (Tampa Bay doesn’t count.) They’re like the Bad News Bears, only they never win and there aren’t any cute little kids for everyone to pull for. None of their players are any good. Their All-Star, Robert Fick, only made the team because every team gets one, but he didn’t deserve it. I’ve seen better talent scouts in my toilet. Tony Clark, Damion Easley, Juan Encarnarcion? All of them allegedly 5-tool stars in the making. All of them played dismally for the Tigers. Not only is management unwilling to spend any money to improve the team, it’s doubtful they could actually succeed if they tried. Randy Smith was a terrible GM. So they fired him and hired Dave Dombrowski, who promptly traded away their best player. No one goes to the games. They’ve been in the league for 100 years and won a grand total of 4 World Series. They are halfway through their eighth straight losing season.

But you know what? I love those orange and blue bastards. Every single one of them. When Robert Fick was introduced during the All-Star pregame, I went nuts. When he got a hit and scored the game-tying run, I nearly lost it and took a little victory lap around the apartment. I cry when they lose, but more importantly, I cry when they win. If they held a Detroit Tigers parade tomorrow in downtown Detroit about seven people would show up. You can bet your bottom dollar that I’d be one of them. And I’m willing to bet that same bottom dollar that the Tigers will win the World Series this October and every October for the next 100 years. That’s fanaticism. That’s loyalty.

Why do I love the Tigers? I think of it like this. Suppose you had a friend who, when the going got rough, always got going. When your girlfriend dumped you, he was never around. But, what’s that? You won the lottery? “Buddy! Long time no see! Let’s go out and hit the town.” What kind of friend is that? That’s no kind of friend I want to have. More importantly, that’s no kind of friend I want to be. The Tigers need me now. So I’m going to scream my head off for them. They’d do the same for me. It’s great basking in the warm glow and champagne taste of the Red Wings’ most recent Stanley Cup, but it’s 10 times sweeter knowing I was there in 1986 when they finished dead last, 10 wins behind everybody else. And you wonder why Detroiters set cars on fire when the Tigers win the championship.

What should you take from this? A couple of things. First, remember that team you loved as a kid, but couldn’t care less about now that they’ve stopped winning? Go buy a T-shirt and start cheering for them even harder. They’ve missed you. They need you. But there are bigger lessons, too. That friend going through a rough time right now? Call her up. Invite her out. She needs you too. And you’ll find that everyone loves finding out their life could be worse. They could be a Tigers fan.