Detroit
No wonder this World Series leaves America cold.
The Tigers and Cardinals do not have the common sense to stay inside by the fire on a Sunday night not fit for man, beast or baseball.
The only thing nastier than the weather was Detroit pitcher Kenny Rogers. Surrendering two hits in eight innings, he led the Tigers to a 3-1 victory, which evened the best-of-seven series after two games.
The 41-year-old lefty can be more ornery than Old Man Winter, but his curveball was sharper than an icicle.
Rogers, who has thrown 23 consecutive scoreless innings during the playoffs, was so unhittable that St. Louis suspected him of cheating.
A suspicious brown substance on Rogers’ pitching hand caused conspiracy theorists to do what they do best. Yap as hysterically as poodles. This World Series is so desperate for a hot controversy, otherwise intelligent folks were willing to contrive one.
Was Rogers dirty dealing?
After St. Louis batters looked feeble against Rogers in the first inning, Cardinals manager Tony La Russa informed umpires “a couple of his players said the ball was acting funny, and they made Kenny wash his hands,” according to Detroit skipper Jim Leyland. “He washed his hands and came out the second inning and was pretty clean the rest of the way.”
My guess? That could have been 10W30 smeared on Rogers, and no fair-minded ump would have busted him, because, cold as it was, any smart pitcher would have switched to winter-weight oil to keep his motor running.
“It’s dirt and resin and all that stuff put together,” Rogers explained.
As controversies go, this one was lame.
“Stop, stop, stop right there,” said umpire supervisor Steve Palermo, when reminded that if a ball is discolored by soil it’s an automatic ejection for the offending pitcher.
Dirty dealing? C’mon. Get serious. It should be noted the Cards could not hit Rogers after he rinsed his hands in the sink.
The thermometer read 46 degrees, not to mention a bone-numbing breeze, when Rogers threw the first pitch of the game at 8:23 p.m. EDT in Michigan.
The start was about seven hours later than made sense for anybody who purchased a ticket, but was dictated by Fox TV, which has reduced the World Series to counter-programming against “Desperate Housewives.”
By the seventh-inning shiver, the temperature had dipped to 37, with a wind chill that was ideal, provided you’re a fan of cryonics. Not to suggest it was too cold for baseball, but there were unsubstantiated rumors Ted Williams was seen in the upper deck.
Twenty years from now, all most of the 42,533 frigid spectators at the ballpark will remember about Game 2 is the hot cocoa cost $1.50.
This was not baseball. It was an exercise in survival. Welcome to Comerica Park, America’s largest meat locker.
Infielders did not need gloves so much as mittens. Leaning into a steady 18 mph wind, Preston Wilson of St. Louis stood in the outfield with a bare hand shoved in his back pocket, like a lonely guy waiting for a bus on Christmas Eve. The World Series should be a reward for fans, not a way to earn a Boy Scout merit badge for winter camping.
Before anybody could shudder to think how miserable it was to watch or play Game 2, Sparky Anderson, the lone manager to win a World Series with teams from both leagues, defended the grand old game against charges the sport has neither kept pace with a microwave society nor honored its time-honored traditions.
“I got a kick out of them when they used to say baseball is dying, and football is No. 1,” argued the always delightful Anderson, at age 72 more energetic than a case of Red Bull. “I hate to break the sad news to football, but nothing will ever take the place of baseball.
“When (baseball) goes bad, call me, because I won’t be around, but I can be reached under the ground.”
Nice try, Sparky.
But what should be a showcase for baseball has been moved to the freezer case, next to the fish sticks.
The boys of summer deserve better than to be left out in the cold.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
