Baseball Trades Today More About Money Than Personnel

It was a line uttered by a wisecracking former player for the Cleveland Indians. Its genealogy dates back to the mid-1980s.

"The first thing they do when they find out you have talent in Cleveland," the player said, "is trade you for three guys who don't."

That observation was made because of curious personnel decisions that the Indians front office had been making, none of which involved money. Just plain baseball.

I'd like to update that missive.

The first thing teams NOT named the Yankees and Red Sox do when they find out you have talent, is trade you for three guys who don't make any money.

The Winter Meetings---and this isn't all that long ago---used to be a gathering of big kids in suits with bubblegum cards rubber-banded together.

"Give me your Freddy Lynn and I'll give you my Frank Tanana."

If players were on the "trading block," it was because of performance or age or maybe an oil-and-water relationship with the manager. The December meetings were thrilling, because you never knew what kinds of mega deals might be spawned from them.

It's December 1979 and the Tigers make a trade that is classified under "addition by subtraction." They have a new manager, Sparky Anderson, and after only four months on the job, Sparky already knows who he'd like to cast off.

So base thief---and just plain thief---Ron LeFlore gets shipped to Montreal for a lefthander named Dan Schatzeder. No one with a straight face can argue that it's a fair deal. LeFlore was a bona fide .300 hitter with some power who could steal 50+ bases while hardly trying.

But it was the hardly trying part that got Sparky's goat. Never having warmed to LeFlore's off-the-field behavior, Sparky had GM Jim Campbell send him away, forthwith. Didn't matter who the Tigers got back in return, really. Which was obvious, when all LeFlore netted the Tigers was Schatzeder, who was OK but nothing terrific.

Sparky continued to have Campbell purge the roster of those not of the manager's liking, over the next several years. But you can't argue, because the Tigers became solid contenders by 1981 and won the World Series in 1984.

The point to all my meanderings? Trades were made for just about anything except for what they're mostly made for now.

It's the money. The cash. The filthy loot.

The Toronto Blue Jays were the latest to get cheaper, practically giving pitcher Roy Halladay away in a three-team trade involving the Phillies and the Mariners. The Jays got "prospects" in return. Read: they got some guys who don't cost the GNP of a small country.

It used to be that you made baseball trades because of, well, baseball. You assessed your needs and met up with some other GMs in the lobbies of hotels and trade proposals would be scratched out on the back of a room service menu and then hands were shaked later that day.

Hardly ever was a guy's contract status the prime consideration. And deals were rarely made in the superstar-for-prospect category.

Now, if you're a GM, you have to keep your finance guy tethered to you. You don't scout potential players anymore, you vet them.

Teams today simply cannot afford to keep their best players, at least not all of them. Some, like the Blue Jays and others, can't really keep any of them, because of their light pocketbooks.

You can suggest "salary cap" all you want, but good luck getting such a proposal through the MLB Players Association. You'll have better success shoving this morning's toothpaste back into its tube.

A devoted reader bemoaned to me last week about the Curtis Granderson "get cheap quick" trade.

"The Yankees buy their championships!"

I gently reminded him that that's what the Red Wings used to do, pre-salary cap. A July press conference announcing that year's big free agency catch was an annual thing around Detroit.

"That's true," he said. "Guess we can't really complain then."

No, you can complain. Because I am.

I'm complaining because I'm not sure that most baseball trades aren't made because of money first and personnel needs second.

How else to explain the cashiering of a pitcher like Halladay, who is a legitimate Cy Young threat every year, for a bunch of unproven kids?

Closer to home, it's also OK with me if you wring your hands over Justin Verlander. He can be a free agent before the 2012 season, if the Tigers don't get him signed long term before then. Verlander is making $3.75 million this year, which is today's drop in the bucket. How much will it take to keep JV in a Tigers uniform? Maybe a cool $100 million over five, six years?

Halladay has Cy Young potential every season; Verlander has no-hitter potential every start.

Baseball teams are like college programs anymore. Just when you get enamored with the players, they're gone in four years.

A hard look needs to be taken at baseball's financial setup. It's not even about the Yankees and the Red Sox. It's about giving teams more of an opportunity to compete financially and keep the players who draw the most fans, i.e. tickets.

Then we can get back to making trades based on baseball, not contracts.

Tigers’ Trade of Granderson Full of Bottom Line Stench

Where’s Randy Smith when you need him?

Where’s Randy and his Detroit-to-San Diego shuttle?

Edwin Jackson pitches now in Arizona, which means he will soon be out of sight, out of mind. The Tigers may as well have traded him to Siberia. Jackson is a Diamondback now, whatever that is. You won’t hear a peep out of him after Easter.

Curtis Granderson, on the other hand, is another story.

A Tigers fan base in mourning today could use a Randy Smith trade, for maybe Granderson would be a Padre, playing in San Diego, where I’m not even sure they have big league baseball anymore.

Instead, Granderson is in New York. A Yankee. You can’t hide him there. As long as he wears pinstripes, it’ll be an in-your-face, impossible to ignore fact: Curtis Granderson, ex-Tiger, and playing big league baseball in the No. 1 media market in the solar system.

The Yankees snapped him up. They always do that. Even Bubba Trammell played in the Bronx, you know. So did Gabe Kapler and Karim Garcia and Tommy Brookens and Aurelio Rodriguez and Willie Horton was even a Yankees coach, for gosh sakes.

Well, you can stomp your feet and hold your breath and cross your arms and pout all you want, but it ain’t gonna change the fact that Granderson, beloved in Detroit, will still wear blue and white, but instead of the Old English D it’ll be the intertwined N and Y on his New Era cap in 2010, and beyond.

You think he was baseball’s ambassador before? Immerse him in New York’s glitz and glamour and it’s like dipping that yummy ice cream cone into fudge syrup and sprinkles.

The Yankees have him now. The ghost of Harry Frazee reappeared at the winter meetings, in the form of Tigers GM Dave Dombrowski, who sold Granderson off to the Yanks just as Red Sox owner Frazee did with Babe Ruth so Harry could pay for a show he wanted to finance.

Frazee, er, Dombrowski, turned Granderson in for some might bes and can’t misses, and saved his owner a lot of pizza dough in the process. It used to be that you checked scouting reports before you made trades. Now you check bottom lines.

This trading of Granderson and Jackson might make the bookkeepers of the world happy, but what about the baseball people? Oh, they’re happy in New York, of course. The Yankees just rooked another rummy.

The Tigers seemed hellbent on trading both Granderson and Jackson this week. It appeared to be their mission. So eager were they to succeed that, reportedly, Dombrowski got itchy and lowered his asking price of the Yanks. Pitcher Phil Hughes was supposed to be included in the package, but DD told the Yankees, “Eh, that’s OK. Close enough.”

The Tigers got a Coke for a smile.

Lefty reliever Phil Coke is coming to Detroit, along with one of those can’t misses named Austin Jackson, a center fielder. From Arizona, Dombrowski managed an Edwin Jackson-like righty named Max Scherzer and southpaw reliever Daniel Schlereth. At least the Tigers will lead the league with guys whose last names start with Sch.

But the Yankees got their man. They always do. I’m sure their GM, Brian Cashman, could barely suppress his grin when he shook on the deal. Austin Jackson might be a can’t miss and/or a might be, but Curtis Granderson is an IS.

I wasn’t Granderson’s biggest fan this season. Far from it. I wrote a few weeks ago that the mere thought of trading him ought not to be placed in the same category as contemplating drowning puppies, which many of my blogging colleagues all but compared it to.

But my caveat was that you’d better get some big league talent in return, and in the form of multiple bodies.

Well, the Tigers got the multiple bodies thing down, for sure. We’ll see about the former.

Before a line forms at the Ambassador Bridge, before you can’t buy a razor blade in this city, before garage doors close all over town and car ignitions are turned on, remember that trades aren’t judged overnight—literally. Dombrowski might have pulled off quite a caper here; we won’t know for a few years yet.

But what we do know is that an already anemic offense got weaker—for now. In the past week, the Tigers lost the top two men in their batting order—Granderson and 2B Placido Polanco. It’s like the 98-pound weakling dropping weight.

The Yankees, meanwhile, stick Granderson into center field, place him somewhere in the top three in the order, and start selling World Series tickets on Opening Day.

If Dombrowski had shuttled Grandy to San Diego or Arizona or Washington or Pittsburgh, the medicine would probably have gone down smoother for Curtis’s adoring fans. Instead, Granderson will be all over your TV dial, invading every nook and cranny of the Internet, and will be seen in the dugout with Jeter and A-Rod and Teixeira and the rest. Smiling. Broadly.

And Detroit will weep. It started as sniffles during the early hours of the afternoon yesterday, as news of the three-team blockbuster first broke, and progressed to flat-out wailing by suppertime. Curtis Granderson had been traded. I wonder if the reaction would have been the same had the Tigers dealt Al Kaline. Remember him?

But Wayne Gretzky was traded—several times. Hank Aaron was shuffled out of Atlanta. The Giants traded Willie Mays, no less. You think Curtis Granderson was immune?

It’s the Yankees thing—I get it. Anywhere but there, right? Even a trade to the Cubs would have been sufferable, most likely. At least Curtis would be playing in his hometown.

But New York? As if they need any more effervescence. Adding Granderson to New York is like spritzing champagne with carbonated water.

What a waste of a good guy. New York won’t appreciate what Granderson does for life outside of baseball. He’ll be able to walk the streets of Manhattan and the only time he’ll be stopped is if someone happens to ask him for the time. In Detroit, Grandy might one day have stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Mayor Dave Bing in front of the groundbreaking for a new playground. In New York, Mayor Michael Bloomberg might not even have time to take his call—if he even knows who Curtis is.

But from a purely baseball perspective, the Yankees will love what Granderson brings to their team. If he ever learns to hit left-handed pitchers, his only days off will come from November thru March.

The Yankees got their man. Again. Comcast just bought NBC and 20 percent of your cable lineup, so why not Granderson to the Yankees? While we’re at it, let’s sell Yahoo to Google and give Nestle’s a great deal on Hershey. Hey, how about getting McBurger King done?

If you’re going to dump salary, there’s no place to do it like in New York. The Yankees aren’t a baseball team, they’re a corporation. They’re the Pac Man of big league baseball—they gobble up contracts insatiably.

Curtis Granderson didn’t have the best of years in 2009, which ironically was the only season in his career in which he made the All-Star team. He found himself on the trading block thanks to his subpar performance and his soon-to-be bulging contract. The Tigers were clearly very eager to swap him away.

I’m not broken up that Granderson is gone, and I know I’m in the minority. Lefties who can’t hit other lefties don’t impress me. But I must share some of the discontent about him landing in New York, of all places. It’s like losing your girlfriend to the All-American quarterback at USC.

It’s OK to be sad. Everyone has my permission. But take a step back from the ledge. The Tigers made a bottom line trade and it just might work out in the long run. Now, whether the artisan of the trade will stick around long enough to see that happen is another question entirely.

See what happens when you blow a three-game lead with four games to play?

Tigers' Loss of Polanco Another Reminder: Baseball's a Business

Four-plus years ago, Placido Polanco got run out of Philadelphia---they do that a lot in that town---because the Phanatics wanted to see Chase Utley, and pronto, play second base. So quick to rid themselves of Polanco were the Phillies that they accepted a soon-to-be felon from the Tigers, pitcher Ugie Urbina, in a straight up heist.

It wasn't quite Lou Brock-for-Ernie Broglio but it wasn't Rocky Colavito-for-Harvey Kuenn, either. At least the Phillies had Utley as their ace in the hole.

Polanco is back in Philly, again nudged out of a job by a youngster who plays second base.

This time it's Scott Sizemore who has forced Polanco out, as the Tigers made their decision known loud and clear when they didn't offer Polanco salary arbitration by this week's deadline: we want Scott!

Scott's cheaper, you see. By far.

Polanco is back in Philly, and that's odd, because the only thing worse than playing in Philadelphia is playing there TWICE.

But it won't be at second base; the Phillies want Polanco to play third base. And they're going to pay him about $18 million over the next three years to do so. That was too rich for the Tigers' thinning blood.

It was a wise move for the Tigers. Polanco is 34 and Sizemore is going to be 25 next month and he'll work for peanuts compared to what the Tigers would have had to cough up for Poly's services.

Sizemore is rehabbing a snapped ankle but all indications are that he'll be good to go by the time spring training rolls around.

Does Polanco have the arm strength needed to be an everyday third sacker? The Phillies have 18 million George Washingtons that say yes, apparently.

Polanco was a good soldier in Detroit. Shortly after arriving in the summer of 2005, he signed a contract extension to remain a Tiger through the 2009 season. He wasn't a bandwagon guy. The Tigers weren't very good when he made the decision to sign on long-term. He put his faith---and the prime of his career---into the belief that the Tigers were on the road to contention. Or was it the Road to Redemption?

It worked. Polanco rolled a lucky seven. The Tigers made it to the World Series the next year (he was the MVP of the ALCS, too) and were strong contenders in 2007 until Gary Sheffield hurt his shoulder in July and the team went sideways.


The Tigers win the pennant! The Tigers win the pennant!


Get ready for some errors at second base, folks. That's not a knock on Sizemore, it's a knock at a lack of perfection. While Polanco patrolled second in Detroit, E-4 was something you called out while playing "Battleship."

The Tigers need offense, and so letting Polanco and his career .300+ batting average go away might seem self-defeating. But the Tigers need a more powerful, more intimidating brand of offense than what Poly provided. They need a thumper, not a pattycake hitter.

I wish Polanco well---and lotsa luck. They didn't even care much for Mike Schmidt at times at third base in Philadelphia. But to each his own.

This is one of those times when we're reminded harshly that it's business, it's not personal. In fact, often times it's damn impersonal. Placido Polanco is a Phillie not because the Tigers didn't want him---they just couldn't justify paying for him. It's a fine line, but a distinct one all the same.

There's always the memories. Those are free, and priceless at the same time. Remember Polanco, ski cap and all, jumping around wildly as he rounded the bases after Magglio Ordonez's pennant-clinching home run? He looked like Billy Barty trying to reach some cookies on the kitchen counter. But it was an indelible moment.

Polanco might go down as one of the most reliable players to ever jitterbug around a baseball diamond wearing the Old English D. He rolled out of bed every winter, put in his time at spring training, then hit his .300 and played flawless second base and struck out once a week, just about.

But it's not $6 million-per-year stuff anymore, at ages 35 thru 37. Again, business.

Poly's a small guy, but he wore big shoes. Now we'll see if this kid Sizemore is up to filling them.

Fielder's Home Run Joyride Almost 20 Years Ago

I'm a little early on this, I admit. I'm jumping the gun, but this time they can't call me back to the starting blocks.

You heard it here first, then.

When the Tigers gather for spring training in about three months---it can't get here fast enough, by the way---it will be 2010 and you can say it.

It'll be 20 years since Cecil Fielder knocked 51 homers out of the confines of American League ballparks on behalf of the Tigers.

Yep---1990. Even the most mathematically challenged can figure out that 2010 minus 20 equals 1990.

Go ahead and use a calculator anyway, if you wish. But you'll get 20 years since Cecil clubbed his way into the history books.

Fifty dingers might not seem like so much nowadays, but no Tiger had hit that many since Hank Greenberg was thrilling the folks at Briggs Stadium in the 1930s and '40s. Hank, in fact, almost hit 60---he clobbered 58 in 1938.

But unlike Greenberg, who was a product of the Tigers' farm, Cecil was an outsider. Actually, he wasn't acquired so much as imported.

The Tigers left the continent and traveled to the Far East to wrangle Fielder away from a Japanese team, also called the Tigers (Hanshin). Big Daddy, as he was called, had fled the country either because he was attracted to sushi or because he couldn't stand playing behind Fred McGriff. Or both.

Fielder was a Toronto Blue Jay but McGriff was dug in deep as the Jays' first baseman. McGriff was about Cecil's age but he was Big Daddy's superior, at least in the Blue Jays' eyes. McGriff swung lefty and maybe that's what hurt the right-handed hitting Fielder.

Anyhow, Cecil played for Hanshin in 1989 and the Detroit Tigers, in need of a first sacker, remembered what Fielder could do from his days in the AL East. So they sent a team of envoys to Japan and the result was that Fielder signed with them in January 1990.

The Tigers' first player from Japan and he was an American. Go figure.

Not much was made of the signing, other than the Tigers had filled a hole at first base. How it would turn out was anyone's guess.

After 14 games, Fielder had three home runs. Not bad; about a 34-homer pace.

Not bad turned into pretty good, and pretty good turned into "This guy's hotter than wasabi!"

Fielder slammed 10 home runs in his next 15 games, including three in, you guessed it, Toronto.

But it wasn't just that Fielder hit home runs. It was how he hit them.



He looked like he was swinging a toothpick, which is what all the big dudes make even 40-ounce bats look like. Fielder was big and muscular and should have been wearing a football helmet, not a batting helmet.

He cocked his bat just before he swung---another staple from the slugger's repertoire. And while he connected with nothing but air a whole bunch of times, pity the poor baseball that he didn't miss.

A Cecil Fielder home run came in three varieties---towering, lasered, and crushed. No one had punished baseballs in Detroit before him, or since. He was the strongest man to wear the Old English D not named Willie Horton or Marcus Thames.

One afternoon, Fielder took Oakland A's pitcher Dave Stewart downtown---downtown Lansing, that is. He drove a baseball over the left field roof at Tiger Stadium, which was by far the harder of the two roofs to clear.

Fielder kept knocking home runs throughout the summer of 1990, and around the All-Star break it was whispered: could Cecil hit 50? He had 28 and there was still about half a season to go.

Damon Runyon must have written the script from the afterlife and sent it down to Detroit, because going into the last game of the season---in New York, no less---Fielder had 49 dingers. If he was going to reach 50, he'd have to do it in Roger Maris-like fashion---in Yankee Stadium on the season's final day.

Manager Sparky Anderson placed Fielder second in the batting order, to give him an extra at-bat if necessary. He didn't need it.

In the fourth inning, with Tony Phillips on base, Fielder jacked a baseball off someone named Steve Adkins deep into the upper deck in left field in the Bronx. Number 50. Then, as if to make sure in case they added wrong, Fielder hit another, in the eighth inning. Number 51.

They usually don't take kindly to Japanese imports in Detroit, but they made an exception in the case of Cecil Fielder.

It'll be 20 years ago, coming up. No Tigers player---Cecil included---has come close to 50 since then.

Big Daddy, to Detroit from Hanshin, Japan via Toronto. Not the shortest route between two points, unlike his home runs. But it worked out.

Evaluating Baseball's Managers Throughout History

Chris Jaffe over at HardballTimes.com has written a book evaluating managers, entitled, oddly enough, "Evaluating Baseball's Managers."

Click here for an excerpt about former Yankees, Tigers, A's, Rangers, and Twins manager Billy Martin. Good stuff, Chris!

One Last Word on the Metrodome....

Just had to share this, from the late, great sportswriter Jim Murray, about the Metrodome in Minnesota. I'm guessing he wrote this about 20 years ago.

“You should see this ballpark. It looks like a whole bunch of trash bags of hangers. The roof looks like a quilt comforter. If it had a swastika on it, you’d think it was the Hindenburg. The world’s biggest hot-air balloon. You’d be afraid to light a match in it. It’s kept aloft by air. If they ever turn off the fans, you’d have the world’s biggest pile of Teflon. If it slips its tether, you’d half expect to find yourself floating over downtown Chicago. You keep looking around for Cantinflas and David Niven… .”

I don't know about you, but I feel better already.

Tigers scribes announce 2009 season awards

Miguel Cabrera, Justin Verlander unanimous winners

Detroit Tigers first baseman Miguel Cabrera and starting pitcher Justin Verlander were voted the Tigers' top positional player and top pitcher of 2009, in a vote conducted by the Detroit Independent Baseball Scribes.

Cabrera and Verlander each received 20 first-place votes.

Cabrera had a .942 on-base percentage plus slugging average (OPS), which was good for fifth in the American League. He had a .324 batting average, 34 home runs and 103 RBIs. All four categories led the Tigers. His Ultimate Zone Rating of 2.8 ranked second of all AL first basemen.

Verlander led baseball in strikeouts with 269 and was tied for first in the AL with 19 wins. He had an ERA of 3.45. He led the Tigers in all three categories.

Voting was also conducted in two other categories: breakout player of the year, for the player experiencing his first taste of success in the major leagues; and most improved, for the player who made the biggest step forward from the previous season.

Rookie right-handed starting pitcher Rick Porcello earned 18 of 20 votes for the breakout honors. The 20-year-old completed the season with a 14-9 record, 3.96 ERA and 89 strikeouts in 170 2/3 innings. Also receiving votes were right-handed starting pitcher Edwin Jackson (1) and utility player Ryan Raburn (1).

Verlander was also named comeback player of the year, rebounding from a 2008 season which saw him go 11-17 with a 4.84 ERA and 163 strikeouts. He received 11 of 20 votes in the category. Also receiving votes were right-handed closer Fernando Rodney (3), Raburn (2), Brandon Inge (1), Brandon Lyon (1), Jackson (1) and utility infielder Ramon Santiago (1).

Voting was conducted during the week of Nov. 9-15.

Established in 2005, the Detroit Independent Baseball Scribes now has 21 members who write primarily on the Internet. Its member writers are affiliated with such online organizations as MLive.com (Booth Newspapers), SB Nation, ESPN.com, Freep.com, Bleacher Report, Yardbarker, MVN, Fan Blog and Fan Huddle.


The Detroit Independent Baseball Scribes include:

Bless You Boys -- Ian Casselberry
Daily Fungo -- Mike McClary
DesigNate Robertson -- Scott Rogowski
Detroit4lyfe -- Bob Biscigliano
Detroit Tigers Den -- Austin Drake
Detroit Tigers Weblog -- Bill Ferris
Eye of the Tigers -- J. Ellet Lambie
Fire Jim Leyland -- Mike Rogers
It's Just Sports -- Patrick Hayes
Jamie Samuelsen's Blog -- Jamie Samuelsen
Mack Avenue Tigers -- Kurt Mensching
MLive's The Cutoff Man -- James Schmehl and Scott Warheit
Old English D -- Jennifer Cosey
Roar of the Tigers -- Samara Pearstein
Spot Starters -- Blake Vande Bunte
Take 75 North -- Matt Wallace
Tigers Amateur Analysis -- Erin Saelzler
Tigerblog -- Brian Borawski
Tiger Geist -- John Brunn
Tiger Tales -- Lee Panas
Tiger Tracks -- John Parent
Where have you gone, Johnny Grubb? --Greg Eno

Trading Granderson Not as Tragic as Some Would Believe

Curtis Granderson is a nice guy. He’s the kind of man any father would be thrilled to have his daughter marry. He is one of the true ambassadors of baseball, and I don’t throw those kinds of words around willy-nilly.

But I’d trade him in a heartbeat.

This is one of those columns that will get me, figuratively, run up the flagpole at Comerica Park, hung in real-life effigy. You’ll have thought that I started a Kill All Puppies campaign by the time the vitriol is done with.

That’s OK. Nowhere does it say, “Thou must always write what people WANT to read, not what they SHOULD read.”

It’s the job, or rather the duty, of the columnist to present opinions and viewpoints that are genuine, not populist. Even if those opinions are as popular as ants at a picnic.

The hot stove has been fired up. It’s the time of year—the World Series done, the general managers convening—when logic gives way to jingoism. When the bubble gum cards get broken out.

Give me your Joe Shmoe and I’ll give you my John Doe.

The GMs are meeting, and they don’t do it to say hi and catch up with the wife and kids.

All 30 of them are charged with trudging to the meetings, some better equipped than others, and sniffing around to see how they could improve their ballclubs via trade.

Some have better, more attractive bubble gum cards than their colleagues. And more money.

It’s a time for the Internet to teem with rumors, suggestions, and demands from its paying customers.

Break out the bubble gum cards!

The media people, who should know better, don’t, apparently. They’re the ones who usually cast the first stone.

There’s this mythical thing—a place, really—that conjures up, to me, an image of a baseball player posing in front of a throng of potential suitors. He’s standing, by his lonesome, as if on display, on this mythical spot.

It’s something called the “trading block.”

The media people, supposedly so well connected, hear things. Perhaps sometimes they imagine that they hear things. Maybe voices come to them in the middle of the night.

Then these things get splattered onto the Internet, and don’t worry, the fans will take it from there.

One of these things went splat! onto the Internet this week.

“Report: Tigers’ Granderson, Jackson on trading block.”

Not sure where it started, nor by who. Someone heard something, I suppose. Payroll money might be an issue.

The players are center fielder Curtis Granderson and pitcher Edwin Jackson—two supposed key playing cards in the house of them that collapsed with historic ignominy down the stretch.

Not so much Jackson, who has only been a Tiger for one season, but Granderson’s possible cashiering has the fan base in Detroit beside itself.

In a way, it’s charming that the mere thought of dealing Granderson away is met with such resistance. This is because it shows that being a good guy and being active in the community still means something to some towns. And Detroit has been very good that way; they’ve always appreciated the hard-working guy, the genuine dude.

But I’m getting rather tired of being satisfied with just having a bunch of nice guys on the Tigers. The Tigers have had nice guys for years. Maybe not as high profile as what Granderson does, but nice guys nonetheless.

When Miguel Cabrera’s drinking binge made headlines in the final weekend of the season, what sprung to my mind almost immediately was, “This kind of stuff just doesn’t happen with the Tigers.”

The Tigers have been, for the most part, a button-downed organization with precious few rabble rousers on their roster over the decades. That’s why the Cabrera thing resonated so much; it was so out of character for anyone wearing the Old English D over his heart.

Nice guys are great. But winning is even better.

It may sound cold and callous, but give me players with whom I can win baseball games, not popularity contests.

Granderson is coming off an All-Star year, but in title only. He should have been an All-Star in 2006, or 2007, or 2008. Any year than 2009, when he made the squad almost out of default because of the dearth of center field talent in the American League.

He hit .249, was dreadfully and shockingly ineffective against left-handed pitchers, had an obscenely low on-base percentage—that gauge of a player’s ability to not make outs—of .324, dipped dramatically in doubles and triples, and struck out 141 times. All as a supposed leadoff hitter.

It was Granderson, by the way, who made a baserunning blunder befitting a Little League player in the ninth inning of the one-game playoff in Minnesota, getting doubled off first base on a line drive. A blunder that tore the heart out of the Tigers.

Yet he is considered an “untouchable,” another terrific sports word.

You don’t dare trade Curtis Granderson, his adoring public says, because, well, he’s CURTIS GRANDERSON!

He’s a nice guy. Is active in the community. Someone on the Internet wrote that Granderson was the “face of the franchise.”

He does have an electric smile, I’ll give you that.

I’ve talked to Granderson on a number of occasions. A couple years ago we shared a few minutes of quiet time after a game—a loss—as he told me about his experience in Great Britain, bringing baseball to kids across the pond.

The guy’s terrific, no doubt. Always has time for the ink-stained wretches and shameless hangers-on.

But to say that he’s untouchable, beyond consideration for trade, might be community wise but is baseball foolish.

In fact, there may be no better time to trade Granderson than now, with the Tigers in need of a shakeup after the most embarrassing season in their history. You heard me.

This was worse than the 43-119 debacle of 2003. Worse than 53-109 in 1996 or 57-102 in 1975, when the Tigers lost, at one point, 19 straight games. Worse than those dreadful teams of the early-1950s.

You can have all of them and they can’t beat the 2009 Tigers in terms of flat out embarrassment and shame. They became the only team to be in first place starting as early as May 10 yet fail to win its division. They became the first one to cough up a three-game lead with four games to play.

And you’d have a .249 leadoff hitter considered untouchable from such a disgraceful outfit?

If you want to use that word, untouchable, then take pitchers Justin Verlander and Rick Porcello and call me in the morning.

I’m not saying give Curtis Granderson away for a box of baseballs and a batting doughnut. All I’m saying is, take a look at it, if you can get something decent in return.

Someone has to say it in this town, for cripe's sake. No one else seems to have the temerity to do so.