No one asked me...
When I was in the 6th grade, I had to write a report for gym class. It had to be about a sport or an athlete. There was never really any question that I would be writing about my favorite athlete, Detroit Tigers shortstop Alan Trammell. He had been my favorite since about the 2nd grade, when the Tigers won the World Series. I borrowed my brother's Sports Illustrated cover to include with the report. It showed Alan with the brand new car he got for being World Series MVP.
Nothing made me happier than seeing Alan and second baseman Lou Whitaker turning a double play. I was so excited when I saw a little exhibit about them at the baseball hall of fame. Alan played with the Tigers for 20 years. Only two other Tigers have done that: Ty Cobb and Al Kaline. He is synonymous with Detroit baseball.
When I was in college, Alan finally retired. I cried. Even though I knew it was time. It marked a change in my life, when I no longer had a favorite player. I still haven't had one since.
I managed to see Alan a few times on ESPN when he coached with the San Diego Padres. If I knew they were on TV, I would switch on the game, just to catch a glimpse of my old friend. I could never get used to seeing him in a different uniform.
Then, a few years ago, came the happy news I was hoping for. Alan Trammell was named as the manager of the Tigers. He was back in his old uniform. He was back on the right team. But the team struggled. Injuries, mediocre players, an owner who only recently learned that he owns two teams (and not just the Red Wings) and should start opening his wallet occasionally; all these things added up to a team that never finished a season at .500, and certainly never made the playoffs.
Then, today, I received a "breaking news" e-mail from the Tigers, which had the subject "Trammell relieved of his managerial duties." "Relieved of." As though they are doing him a favor. Sad beyond words for him, especially because I know he is not to blame for all of the team's struggles. But there has to be a fall-guy.
The Tigers have offered him some office job. Part of me hopes he rejects it and tries to keep managing, because he will always be a player and not the business type. But, the other part of me doesn't want him to wear anything but the Olde English D. I suppose that is just the 8-year old in me being selfish.
Nothing made me happier than seeing Alan and second baseman Lou Whitaker turning a double play. I was so excited when I saw a little exhibit about them at the baseball hall of fame. Alan played with the Tigers for 20 years. Only two other Tigers have done that: Ty Cobb and Al Kaline. He is synonymous with Detroit baseball.
When I was in college, Alan finally retired. I cried. Even though I knew it was time. It marked a change in my life, when I no longer had a favorite player. I still haven't had one since.
I managed to see Alan a few times on ESPN when he coached with the San Diego Padres. If I knew they were on TV, I would switch on the game, just to catch a glimpse of my old friend. I could never get used to seeing him in a different uniform.
Then, a few years ago, came the happy news I was hoping for. Alan Trammell was named as the manager of the Tigers. He was back in his old uniform. He was back on the right team. But the team struggled. Injuries, mediocre players, an owner who only recently learned that he owns two teams (and not just the Red Wings) and should start opening his wallet occasionally; all these things added up to a team that never finished a season at .500, and certainly never made the playoffs.
Then, today, I received a "breaking news" e-mail from the Tigers, which had the subject "Trammell relieved of his managerial duties." "Relieved of." As though they are doing him a favor. Sad beyond words for him, especially because I know he is not to blame for all of the team's struggles. But there has to be a fall-guy.
The Tigers have offered him some office job. Part of me hopes he rejects it and tries to keep managing, because he will always be a player and not the business type. But, the other part of me doesn't want him to wear anything but the Olde English D. I suppose that is just the 8-year old in me being selfish.
posted by Simba's Mom at
4:53 PM
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