As a young child, my favorite program aired on the wireless was Magnum, P.I., which detailed the exploits of a hardboiled Chandler-esque private dick named Thomas Magnum. And though he spent his days driving a top-of-the-line Model T through the lush underbrush of Honolulu, a five-day steam from the Port of Los Angeles, trouble always found him. But night after night, one truth about Thomas Magnum came in loud and clear over the wireless: This gumshoe was a Detroit Tigers fan.
Indeed, would the wireless today still carry the Magnum serial, I'd bend an ear nightly to hear Johnny Murdoch -- who voiced the cantankerous and mustachioed crime-stopper -- bring the character to life with a rant-and-rage over what's happening on the ball-field in Detroit.
For two consecutive nights, the tourists from Boston have walked all over the Detroits, their ash bats cracking wise with hits, treating the home-team like a cuckolded gent coming in off the street, hat in hand, pleading to hire a tail for his gal. Indeed, Matsuzaka-san two nights ago offered the Detroits every chance to rout the Bostons, piling up eight "walks" after delivering the pill in many a haphazard directions. Still, the Bostons prevailed and times were dandy for the Rooters.
Last night, the game was won by two crafty veterans, Tim "Knuckles" Wakefield and Mike "The Hunter" Timlin. In fact, not a home-town man crossed the plate in nine chapters, whilst Boston's men continued playing ring-around-the-rosy with the Detroit ballpark. Five to nothing was the final tally, keeping the Bostons at the very top of the American League.
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