Skubal's the only thing keeping me from rage-drinking myself into a Comerica Park memory, so he better shut down Altuve and friends or I'm calling 2012 and telling it we're even
I've seen enough Tigers heartbreak to know that zero-zero in the first inning means absolutely nothing, but Skubal's on the mound in Houston and that's the kind of small miracle I've learned to whisper about instead of shout.
After what I've endured since 2012, a scoreless second inning against Houston feels less like hope and more like the universe asking me which way I want to hurt.
I've seen this movie before and it doesn't end with a parade, so I'm not getting my hopes up until Skubal throws a shutout and we score like 47 runs in the next three innings.
A Tigers fan learns that one run in the fourth inning is just the universe asking if we've suffered enough yet.
The Astros have knocked us around before, but Skubal's still got five innings to remind Houston why we're built different this time.
After spending fifteen years watching the baseball gods snatch championships from our hands, I'm not about to start believing in miracles down three runs in Houston in the sixth inning.
After a decade of learning that hope is a luxury item, I'm not about to rent it in the eighth inning of a three-run deficit in Houston.
I've seen enough miracles and heartbreaks to know the Tigers are exactly the kind of team that'll keep me awake at 2 AM wondering if we blew it.
We're scoreless in the first inning against Detroit and I've already started drafting my apology letter to the baseball gods.
We've weathered worse storms than a scoreless second inning—this team will turn Detroit into roadkill before the night's done.
Look, we're up 1-0 in the third inning against Detroit and our pitching is dialed in, so unless something catastrophically stupid happens in the next six innings, we're walking out of here with another W and nobody's gonna remember this game anyway because we've got three World Series rings now, baby.
The Tigers are swinging at air like they're trying to hit a fastball in 2017 while we're out here with actual pitching development, so yeah we're taking this one.
A 2-0 lead at home against Detroit in the fifth inning is exactly the kind of comfortable margin our pitching development turns into a W, so I'm not sweating this one in the 713.
The Tigers couldn't hit water if they fell out of a boat, and our pitching is locked in tighter than a drum, so unless the baseball gods decide to get weird—which they absolutely will because this is Houston sports—we're walking out of here with a W tonight.
Listen, we've built a pitching factory that makes Cy Youngs the way Detroit makes cars, and right now we're cruising with a three-run lead in the eighth—this game is deader than the Tigers' playoff hopes.