As good as this MLB postseason
has been once was, sometimes you just want things to speed up. You want to skip the foreplay and go right ahead to the cigarette or, in this case, skip the possible Tigers wins in Games 4 or 5 and go right to the San Francisco Giants sipping champagne, spraying champagne, and putting on their just-made, extra large championship t-shirts.
And so, thank you, Marco Scutaro. Thank you, MVP Pablo Sandoval. Thank you, uninterested Detroit. Thank you for not delaying the inevitable, or making us pretend to care about what a Game 5 could do. Thank you for ending it while we still loved you all. Thank you for ending in October, and not dragging on over an endless flow of weeks and weekends like every other sport in North America.
Just, thank you.
A four-game sweep is as exciting as your grandmother’s 9-to-5 life. This one didn’t have the dramatics of Boston’s World Series sweep in 2004 — when they won their first title in 86 years — or any of the Yankees sweeps — when you just felt you were watching the best team in baseball history.
It was an odd and slow nightcap to what has been a phenomenal postseason, but it was always destined to end with this level of “Meh”.
After a Wild Card single-game playoff, four Divisonal Series that all went the distance, plenty of headlines about the Yankees’ limp dick effort against the Tigers in the ALCS, and a thrilling NLCS showcasing the last two World Series champions, the Tigers and Giants entered this year’s dance like two combatants who were shocked they made it to the end.
It was like watching two martial arts experts in a street fight, and seeing them finally go head-to-head after the crowd parts and the dust disperses.
They entered stunned… feeling each other out.
Well, the Tigers did, at least. Detroit was searching for their first crown since the 80’s, but left looking like the Tigers of the 90’s. Now, after stepping up down the stretch to take the AL Central title from the White Sox, Detroit has to start all over again.
The Giants, meanwhile, lost their closer to injury, their best hitter to steroids, and their starting pitcher to age and fleeting dominance. (They would be Brian Wilson, Melky Cabrera, and Tim Lincecum, in that order.)
And, again, they have a World Series crown.
It just goes to show you… you can’t plan this stuff. Right, Boston?