If you read this blog or know me you know this: I love baseball.

You’ll also know that my hometown team is the Detroit Tigers.

The Tigers were swept in the World Series tonight by the San Francisco Giants, 4-3 in 10 innings. A heartbreaking loss to a terrific season. Rather unlikely ending for a team that was so dominant in baseball this year in the playoffs. Aaron, my youngest son, has been wearing his Tiger hat almost every day for the past month. Fist pumping the strikeouts. Asking for the final score in the morning before the bus came. He, like me is a fan. Game 4 was the first game that I made a point to just sit on the couch and watch. It’s been a long time since I sat and watched tv. In fact, Game 4 was my first real time spent in front of the tv in months (I listened to the first three games on the radio). And with my two boys looking on we watched and hoped for a miracle that would never come.

As Miguel Cabera struck out, Aaron, with the beginnings of tears, took his hat off and slammed it to the couch.

I put the hat back on his head and said, “Put your hat back on. Wear it proudly. The Tigers did good this year, but it wasn’t meant to be. They’ll get ’em next year.”

AJ smiled, hopped off the couch, hat on head, and I followed him to his room. He placed his Tiger hat on top of his piggy bank perch located on his dresser and climbed into bed. We said prayers, and I turned out the light.

See you in April Tigers. We will be waiting and watching for the hunt next year.