8702180084
DETROIT FREE PRESS
871010
Saturday, October 10, 1987
STATE EDITION
1C
MITCH ALBOM
PLAYOFFS '87
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
TWINS' MESSAGE TO MORRIS: TIME TO HIT THE ROAD, JACK
MINNEAPOLIS -- He stood alone on the mound, glaring at the hitters, the
roar of 55,245 frenzied fans ringing in his ears. Up came his leg, back went
his arm, with a whiplash twist the ball was coming home. . . .
Coming home. That was the theme, wasn't it? Jack Morris was coming home. He
grew up here. Across the river. He was pitching Thursday night at the
Metrodome before his parents, uncles, aunts, cousins. . . .
"BIG DEAL!" the sellout crowd seemed to roar. Tonight he was the enemy. Tar
him.
This was home? Better they should make him take out the garbage and sweep
the basement. From the start of this second game of the American League
playoffs, it was clear that Morris was less than welcome. And -- what was
worse for Tigers fans -- he didn't have the stuff to tell the Twins fans
where they could stick their reception. By the second inning Morris had given
up three runs. By the fourth inning he had walked his way into more trouble;
two more runs before the inning was over. A home run in the fifth. Nothing
was coming easy. Counts were going high. And the crowd! Good night. Every ball
was greeted by a New Year's roar; every Twins hit shook the bubble roof. And
ho, God forbid they scored a run! You were deaf for an hour.
"The most incredible, amazing, exciting crowd I have ever pitched in front
of," Morris would say. Too bad they weren't on his side. They sang his name,
"MORRRR-ISS!" They sang the "NA- NA-NA-NA" song, and when the game was over,
and Morris popped out of the dugout to acknowledge his parents in the seats,
this was what he saw: a standing, whooping sea of humanity, waving white
hankies, stomping to the loudspeaker music, high on the 2-0 lead their
underdog Twins suddenly held in this crazy playoff series.
We know you're not supposed to be able to go home again. But they might at
least treat you with some civility.
Tigers lose, 6-3? Uh-oh. This was not at all what Detroit fans had figured
when they saw that Morris -- the biggest winner on the Tigers' staff -- was
pitching Game 2. Hadn't Doyle Alexander, Mr. Never Lose, already been beaten
in a maddening roar Wednesday night? And now Morris had been racked for six
runs, albeit on six hits. Whoa. Enough kidding around here.
It certainly wasn't what Morris had in mind. Remember that he grew up here,
was a high school star, played baseball, basketball, football -- and when he
wasn't doing that he was in the woods, or in a cabin, fishing, camping,
hunting. He loved it here. And last winter, as a free agent -- and the most
successful pitcher of the decade -- he tried to come back. Offered his
services. And the Twins said no thanks. "I really want to win this," Morris
had said before Thursday's game, "to show (the Twins) they made a mistake."
All he showed them was that he was a good sport. Morris smiled through
much of the night, despite the score, despite the verbal storm. "Hey, that is
what the game is all about," he said in a mob of reporters afterward. "The
crowd really helped them."
"Can you assess your pitching?" someone asked.
"You guys do that better than me," he said.
"Did you think the Tigers could lose two here?"
"Yeah. It was you guys who told everybody we would sweep."
"Do you think the crowd back in Detroit will be able to counter the
enthusiasm of the crowd here?"
"I think," Morris said, smirking, "when the organist plays, 'How Much Is
That Doggie In The Window,' the place is gonna rock."
These were unwise answers, sarcastic answers. Morris smiled and laughed
through them, and no doubt many out-of-town reporters went away thinking that
Morris doesn't care who wins or loses. Detroit people know otherwise. The
Tigers needed this game, and while Morris did not pitch badly, he got a few
pitches up to the wrong guys, he made a few bad walks, and it was over. "Bert
(Blyleven, the Twins' winner) pitched good. I gave up a few hits that cost me,
that's it, end of story." So this was his homecoming. A crazed Metrodome
crowd, waving "Homer Hankies," yelling for blood. When Morris was introduced
Thursday there was a roar -- a sprinkle of applause over an explosion of boos.
And that was the kindest moment. Three doubles in the second inning, by Gary
Gaetti, Tom Brunansky, Tim Laudner. Tim Laudner? Isn't he the ninth man in the
order? "My worst mistake," Morris admitted. That's the kind of night it was.
"The crowd wasn't a factor," said manager Sparky Anderson.
"The crowd was the biggest factor," said Morris.
Come on, guys. Get your stories straight. And fast, before it's too late.
This isn't funny anymore. Wednesday night's win was written off to youthful
Twins enthusiasm, dome-field advantage, the odds catching up with Alexander.
But Thursday was not a game to be lost. Thursday was to be the night the
Tigers took off the Clark Kent clothes and showed their real identity. After
all, the Twins' pitcher was Blyleven, all of 15-12 on the mound. A
right-hander. Don't the Tigers kill right-handers? And Morris had never lost
in the Metrodome.
Yes. Yes.
"AND SO WHAT?" screamed the Minnesota fans.
"It's not a good situation to be in," admitted Kirk Gibson, who struck out
three times Thursday, "but it's also not a good time to quit."
The optimistic say this is but another challenge, the umpteenth challenge
in a Tiger season that is nothing if not one little mountain after another.
The optimistic say the Tigers will find a way out. The optimistic say the
Tigers have done it all season.
The pessimistic say, "HELP!"
And the haunting, jeering, thunderous Minnesota crowds that invaded the
Tigers' eardrums these first two games have said just one thing to homegrown
hero Morris and the rest of the Detroit roster:
"Hit the road, Jack."
Gladly.