8702180238
DETROIT FREE PRESS
871011
Sunday, October 11, 1987
STATE EDITION
1A
Photo Color DAYMON J. HARTLEY
MITCH ALBOM
SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION, Page 1A
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
THAT'S THE WAY!
SHERIDAN CHANGES INTO TIGERS HERO
This is what it had come down to, the game, the season really, Tigers
losing, bottom of the eighth, the cold wind blowing, tight lips everywhere,
and who was at the plate?
Clark Kent.
All right. Pat Sheridan. Same difference. Unlikely heroes? Pat Sheridan?
The No. 9 hitter? Tall, skinny, glasses? That Pat Sheridan? Wait. Give him the
phone booth. Turn your back.
Whack.
Out of here! Upper deck. First pitch. A two-run shot. Whoa. Is this for
real? Jack Morris, the pinch-runner on first base, loped around the bases like
a happy deer, crossed home plate, turned, waited, the crowd roaring, and as
Sheridan came across -- Tigers 7, Twins 6 -- Morris gave him as hard a
high-five as a pitcher has ever thrown.
"I figured," Morris would say, laughing, "I've had that done enough times
to me, I deserved to do it back once!"
Isn't that the whole story here? The whole theme of this crazy
come-from-behind Tigers victory in Game 3 of the American League playoffs? Had
enough, do it back? The Tigers were bombarded with destiny hits for two
nights in Minneapolis last week, two rollicking defeats in Games 1 and 2, and
for seven innings Saturday at Tiger Stadium, things were going the same way.
A 5-0 lead had been squandered. The Twins -- with the worst record of any
division winner in the game -- had come back as if angels were guiding them.
They had taken the lead, 6-5, were threatening a possible sweep of this
series, and the Tigers were down to their last five outs.
And along came Sheridan.
Up in the sky. A bird. A plane.
No. Better.
A home run.
How happy were you when that thing went out?" Sheridan was asked, as he
rode in a yellow cart toward the center field interview room, past rows of
cheering fans.
"How happy?" he yelled. "Well, let's just say it's the happiest I've been
in a month."
No kidding. Sheridan has barely played in that time. Rookie Scott Lusader
often took his place down the home stretch. But Lasader was ineligible for
the playoffs, Sheridan was back, and Saturday, he delivered the hit that might
serve as the single biggest pivot in this season full of pivots.
"That's kind of been our whole season," he said. "Somebody steps in, does
it when they have to. It's kind of typical, really."
"What was the difference in the dugout when you left to hit and when you
came back?" he was asked.
"It was pretty tight before," he said, "and IT WAS . . ."
He didn't finish. The cart stopped. A crowd of fans was screaming,
clapping, the cheers echoing inside the stadium hallways. He was drowned out
by noise.
But you get the picture.
Destiny takes a bounce. Until Sheridan's home run -- and the three big
outs by reliever Mike Henneman that followed in the top of the ninth -- this
series was shaping up as the biggest upset of the year. And nobody would be
more upset than the Tigers. Saturday was supposed to be the return to sanity,
the escape from the Metrodome and its bubble roof and Homer Hankies and
non-stop beat-you-till-you're-deaf loudspeakers, where the Tigers had dropped
Games 1 and 2.
This was old baseball, real baseball, outdoor baseball, with clouds and
grass and dirt and wind. And it wasn't helping. Walt Terrell was the third of
three Tigers starters unable to clamp the lid on Minnesota. In the seventh
inning, the Tigers had a runner on first with their best hitters up against
former Tiger Juan Berenguer. And here is what happened. Kirk Gibson struck out
looking. Alan Trammell popped out. Matt Nokes walked. And Chet Lemon, with the
crowd on its feet, cheering, screaming, as loud as it could get without a roof
over it, well, Chet Lemon fouled out.
"We were pretty tight in the dugout after that," Trammell said. But when
Sheridan's hit went out, everything changed. Not just the score. The attitude.
"Huge! Bleepin' huge!" said Kirk Gibson of the hit.
"Here's what it meant," said manager Sparky Anderson. "Until then, I think
they sensed something, like they were on a roll. Every time they needed
something, they were gonna get it. Now we've changed that. We won one. Now I
think they're gonna have to get down to just beating us if they want to win."
In Minneapolis, the maddening noise seemed to gust the Twins beyond
mistakes, beyond gaffes. Who would goof up with that much support? But here it
was different. Here, there was no support, except for a section full of Twins
wives blowing whistles. And what had we here?
Here was starting pitcher Les Straker, who didn't pitch long, committing a
balk in the midst of a Tigers rally. A run scored.
Here was Tom Brunansky, an offensive hero in Minneapolis, screwing up on
the base paths between first and second, killing a potential threat. And
later, in the sixth, Gary Gaetti, hitting a long fly to deep right-center,
maybe 390 feet, a home run at the Metrodome. And here? It died. In Lemon's
glove.
And yet, the Twins had overcome all that. Somehow, they rallied in the
seventh -- a bases-loaded single by Gaetti that pushed them ahead, 6-5. They
had the lead.
The operative word here is "had."
So the Tigers come back, they win one -- the most critical one, until
today's game, of course. Think of Saturday as the pivot. Tonight we see if
they make the pass. "Sunday will be the real tester," Trammell admitted.
But that is tonight. At least tonight matters. Tonight things could be
tied, and, to use a cliche, it's a whole new . . .
Well, you know the cliche.
For now, this was a day to finally celebrate something, a breakthrough, a
moment to breathe. The steamroller that had been the Twins was at least
temporarily derailed; done by willpower, a spirit of never-quit, and most of
all, by Pat Sheridan, tall, skinny, glasses, Pat Sheridan, whose wood was the
bench most of September. But Saturday afternoon, his wood was a bat. As big
as destiny. Home run.
"I never got too down while I was out of the lineup," he said to an army of
post-game microphones. "I was still wearing the uniform. There are a lot of
people who would just like to be wearing this uniform."
Yeah. I think I saw a red cape sticking out.
CUTLINE:
Tiger fans arrive at the game in their own kind of uniforms. These Taylor
residents are, from left, Sarah King, 5, her brother Scott, 3, Sherry Smith
(at rear) the children's mother, Dawn King, and Johy Kinnell.
DTIGERS;BASEBALL;Detroit Tigers