2017 Shrine of the Eternals Keynote Address

Dave Mesrey gives the keynote address at the Baseball Reliquary's 19th annual Shrine of the Eternals induction ceremony Sunday, July 16, 2017, in Pasadena, California.

July 16, 2017

By Dave Mesrey

Good afternoon.

It's great to be with you here at the Baseball Reliquary.

It’s a long way from Detroit to Pasadena.

And what a long, strange trip it’s been.

The game of baseball can take you to some of the unlikeliest places with the unlikeliest of people.

I wouldn’t be here today in the hometown of Jackie Robinson if it weren’t for Ernie Harwell, if it weren’t for Willie Horton, and if it weren’t for Tom Derry and the Navin Field Grounds Crew. 

And I wouldn’t be here on the birthday of Shoeless Joe Jackson if it wasn’t for the spirit of Tiger Stadium.

It was Shoeless Joe who christened Tiger Stadium over a hundred years ago, back when it was known as Navin Field.

In that first game in the top of the first inning, on April 20, 1912, Shoeless Joe scores the first run.

Not to be outdone, in the bottom of the first, the Tigers score their first run when Ty Cobb steals home.

For years, that old ballpark at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull was a mecca for many of us in Detroit. But as Cam Perron knows, it wasn’t always a mecca for African-Americans, who were forced to play in their own leagues simply because of the color of their skin. 

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I grew up on the east side of Detroit.

My father, the son of Syrian immigrants from Damascus, taught me the game of baseball.

He taught me about Earl Wilson and Gates Brown and Willie Horton.

Taught me about Joe Louis and Louis Armstrong. Taught me about America.

We lived in a lower flat on Nottingham Street.

On the next street over lived an ex-con who somehow made it out of Jackson State Prison and into the Tigers' starting lineup.

His name was Ron LeFlore.

Mickey Lolich once lived in that neighborhood. Just a few blocks over was White Boy Rick.

As one of the few Middle Eastern kids in my neighborhood and in my school, I was subjected to my fair share of ridicule.

Kids would call me Ay-rab, towelhead, camel jockey. You can guess the rest.

As hard as I tried, I never quite fit in.

But I feel like I kind of fit in with you here at the Baseball Reliquary.

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Despite our best efforts in Detroit, Tiger Stadium is gone, and it’s never coming back. 

But for anybody who ever set foot in the place, its spirit lives on. 
It was a uniquely American ballpark in a uniquely American town.

The story of Tiger Stadium, in many ways, is the story of Detroit.

It’s the story of America.

It’s where immigrants from all over the world came to learn this quintessentially American game.

It’s where the Jews came to see Hank Greenberg.

Where Italians came to see Rocky Colavito

Where Latinos came to see Ozzie Virgil.

And in the 1960s and ’70s, when the Red Sox were in town, it’s where the Arabs came to see Joe Lahoud.

And after the Tigers sign Jake Wood and Willie Horton and Gates Brown, it’s a place where African-Americans can finally come and see one of their own wearing the Old English D.

One of those fans is a Black autoworker at Ford Motor Company who catches the bus to the ballpark all the time to sit in the bleachers and watch Willie Horton and Gates Brown and Earl Wilson.

This practically anonymous autoworker — he works in the foundry at the Ford Rouge plant.

The same place, at the same time, as a young Berry Gordy.

But he’s not just any autoworker. He’s an old ballplayer who still loves the game.

In fact, in his day, he hit the most home runs in Negro League history.

His name is Turkey Stearnes.

In the 1920s and ’30s, Norman “Turkey” Stearnes played just a few miles away at a place called Hamtramck Stadium. This was the home of the Negro National League Detroit Stars.

There, Stearnes and his teammates played against the likes of Satchel Paige, Josh Gibson, and Cool Papa Bell.

And for the grand opening of Hamtramck Stadium in 1930, they ask this middle-aged white guy from Georgia to catch a train to Detroit so he can be on hand to throw out the first pitch at a Negro League ballpark.

And he does.

And it’s Ty Cobb.

 

But Hamtramck Stadium wasn’t just a place for the Negro Leagues.

After Jackie Robinson breaks the color line in 1947 and the Detroit Stars fold and the Negro Leagues fade into history, Hamtramck Stadium is used for community baseball. High school games, church leagues, American Legion, and Little League.

And it’s there that a big Polish kid by the name of Art “Pinky” Deras leads the 1959 Hamtramck Little League team to the Little League World Series.

And to this day he’s called the Greatest Little Leaguer There Ever Was.

But by the 1990s, Hamtramck Stadium falls into disrepair, and the grandstand is scaled down and fenced off, and it’s covered with graffiti.

But it’s still standing.

* * * * *

Today Hamtramck is a vibrant and complex town.
A small town smack dab in the middle of a big one.

Once home to Germans and Poles and African-Americans, Hamtramck continues to evolve. And its changing face is the face of America.

Today there are still Poles and African-Americans in Hamtramck … and hipsters of all ages playing their music and making their art and living their lives.

And now there are immigrants from Yemen and Syria and Bangladesh.

The mayor of Hamtramck today — she’s Polish.

And the majority of the City Council are Muslims.

And right there in the middle of it all is this old Negro League ballpark.

One of just five or six left in America.

And it’s still standing.

The kids in Hamtramck today —
they play a lot of soccer. They play a lot of cricket. And they play a lot of football.

And while baseball might not be America’s pastime anymore, it is still a quintessentially American game.

And so Hamtramck High School still has its own baseball team.

Their Coach, Adam Mused, is Yemeni.

His players are Yemenis, Bangladeshis, Bosnians, and Poles.

One kid is half Mexican, half Arabic.

Coach Mused calls ’em “the world team.”

I call ’em America’s Team.

Now until just a few years ago, I didn’t even realize Hamtramck Stadium was still standing. 

But it is.

And until just about a year ago. I didn’t even know this place existed.

The Baseball Reliquary — a place for guys like Dock Ellis and Bill "Spaceman" Lee and Mark "The Bird" Fidrych.

And I’ve started to realize that so many ballplayers who came through Detroit would fit in here.

Guys like Turkey Stearnes and Pinky Deras.

Dave Rozema and Johnny Wockenfuss.

Hank Aguirre and Ron LeFlore.

And while they might never get into Cooperstown, I think maybe there’s even a place here for the longest-serving keystone combination in major-league history, Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker.

I learned about so many of these guys from listening to my father and listening to Ernie Harwell on the radio.And I can trace it all back to the night the Tigers won the pennant in 1968.

That night, my parents are sitting in the lower deck of the left-field stands, right behind Willie Horton. And when Don Wert singles in the winning run in the bottom of the ninth, the place goes bananas.

Ernie Harwell says “Kaline has scored, the fans are streaming on the field, and the Tigers have won their first pennant since 1945.

Let’s listen to the bedlam … here at Tiger Stadium!”

And from where I’m sitting, it’s all I can do.

My mother was five months’ pregnant with me that day. Guess you could say I had an obstructed-view seat. So I can’t see Don Wert’s single. I can’t see Kaline score, and I can’t see the fans go wild.

So I did what Ernie said.

I listened to the bedlam ... there at Tiger Stadium.

And then for the final game at Tiger Stadium in 1999, just like my parents, I find myself sitting in the lower deck of the left-field stands.

After the game, all the old Tigers come out in uniform.

George Kell and Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker.

Bill Freehan and Ron LeFlore and Cecil Fielder.

And then right in front of me, back in left field in his Tigers uniform for the last time at Tiger Stadium, comes Willie Horton.

And he’s crying.

And Larry Herndon’s crying.

And everybody’s crying.

And there's a sign in the upper deck that says, "Today there is crying in baseball."

And that day, everybody at Tiger Stadium broke the cardinal rule.

The first one out of the tunnel that night is Mark “The Bird” Fidrych.

And I watch as he sprints out to the pitcher’s mound and he kneels down and he pulls out a Ziploc bag and scoops up a handful of dirt to take back home with him to Massachusetts.

And then the lights go down and the crowd thins out, and Ernie Harwell says, “Farewell, Tiger Stadium. We will remember.”

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There’s a picture of Turkey Stearnes in his final days in 1979 standing at home plate at Tiger Stadium, where he was never allowed to play because of the color of his skin.

Stearnes is just staring out into the outfield, where he sat as a spectator for so many days in the bleachers. And you can see in his eyes the story of the Negro Leagues. It’s the triumph of determination over discrimination, and the triumph of dignity over despair. 

I think what it all boils down to is this:

Place matters.

If there’s someplace that matters to you … whether it’s an old library or an old house or an old ballpark … it’s a place worth fighting for.

  

And like I said, baseball can take you to the unlikeliest of places with the unlikeliest of people. And so in 2009, when Mark “The Bird” Fidrych dies, I realize I must go to Massachusetts.

Forty-five minutes west of Boston, right outside of Worcester, Mass., is a little town I’d always wanted to visit. But I never got around to it until I got the word that the Bird was gone.

So I hop on a plane and I head out east, and I find myself in this tiny little town where Mark “The Bird” Fidrych was born and raised. And I find the church, and it’s jam-packed and there’s a line outside a mile long. But somehow I manage to get inside, and I stand in the back of the church.

Worcester Telegram & Gazette

And up there on the altar is a Mark “The Bird” Fidrych jersey, and who should be there to deliver the eulogy — all the way from Detroit — but Willie Horton.

After the funeral, I stumble out into the streets of Northborough, and walk around in awe, and I wander over to Main Street, where I come upon this old abandoned gas station, and I think to myself, “I wonder if this was Pierce’s.”

I remembered that when The Bird signed his first Major League contract, he was a 19-year-old kid pumping gas at a place called Pierce’s. This is 1974. His father comes up there one day and says, “Markie, you don’t have to work here anymore.”

And the Bird says, “What do you mean?”

And his dad says, “You’ve just been drafted by the Detroit Tigers.”

And then I look up and I see this guy walking down Main Street, and he’s in a black suit, and it looks like he’s just left the church. Short guy, looks like Robin Williams, and I say, “Excuse me. Was this Pierce’s gas station?”

Pierce's Oil & Gas, Northborough, Mass.

And he looks at me and says, “Yeah, that was Pierce’s. You not from around here?”

And I say no.

And he sees I’m wearing a sportcoat and he says, “Were you just at the funeral?”

And I said I was.

And then he says, “Are you from Detroit?”

I said I am.

And he says, “My name is Stevie Graham. I known Markie my whole life. We grew up playin’ Little League together. You wanna buy me a coffee?”

So we walk in to the Dunkin’ Donuts and I buy him a coffee and he starts telling me what it’s like to grow up with Mark “The Bird” Fidrych. And what it’s like to see him go from your goofy, lovable neighbor to the major leagues and see him on TV talking to Bob Uecker on Monday Night Baseball.

Stevie Graham, it turns out, is a hell of a poker player. His buddies call him “The Brain.” And The Brain looks at me and says “You got a car?”

And I say yeah.

And he says, “How’d you like a tour of Northborough?”

So we start driving around Northborough, and he shows me this little house and says, “See that place? That’s where Markie grew up.”

And then we drive around a little more and he shows me this farm, and he doesn’t have to say anything because I know whose farm it is. And I can see off in the distance a big red Mack truck, and I know whose truck it is.

And we drive around a little more, and he says, “There’s one more place I gotta show ya.”

So we drive around town, and we end up at a little ballpark called Memorial Field.

Stevie "The Brain" Graham.

There’s a Little League diamond, and there’s a major-league diamond, and The Brain says, “This is where we grew up playin’ ball. This is where Markie and I learned the game.”

And then The Brain goes and finds the groundskeeper and says, “Tommy, I want you to meet somebody. This is Dave. He came all the way from Detroit for Markie’s funeral.”

And then he says to the groundskeeper, “You got a Ziploc baggie?”

And he says, “Yeah.”

And The Brain tells him, “Go get some dirt from the mound.”

And so I watch this groundskeeper walk out to the mound, get down on his hands and knees, and scoop up a handful of dirt.

And he gives me the bag.

Dirt from The Bird's hometown of Northborough, Massachusetts.
(Jesse Saucedo)

Then I was like, “Shit, Brain, I’ve got something for you.”

He says, “Whaddaya got?”

I’d brought something with me from Detroit. I didn’t know why I brought it or what I was gonna do with it until that very moment. And so I reach in my pocket, and I pull out another bag of dirt, and I give it to Stevie “The Brain” Graham.

And he looks at me and says, “Is that what I think it is?”

I said, “It is.”

And he says, “Is that from Tiger Stadium?”

I said, “It is.”

And he says, “Is that from the fuckin’ pitcher’s mound?!”

And I said, “Aw, I’m sorry, man. It’s from the left-field line. Best I could do!”

So he takes his bag of dirt, I take my bag of dirt, and we go our separate ways.

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Tiger Stadium, Fall 2008

And then when I get back to Detroit, they tear down what’s left of Tiger Stadium.

It was supposed to be this great historic reuse of an old major-league ballpark, but it wasn’t meant to be. And so they tear it down.

And then Ernie Harwell dies. 

And they’ve got him laid out at Comerica Park so people can come and pay their last respects.

But I don’t wanna go there. 

I wanna go to Tiger Stadium. 
I wanna go to Navin Field. 

But now it’s this 10-acre vacant lot. And it’s riddled with trash and weeds. But there are people there playing catch in the weeds and remembering Ernie Harwell, and remembering the spirit of Tiger Stadium.   

And I meet this guy, Tom Derry, and we come back a few days later and we start picking up the trash and cutting the grass. And the cops start harassing us, but we keep coming back. And soon you can make out the base paths again.

And then the people come.

Next thing you know, we’re the Navin Field Grounds Crew and for six years it’s this surreal saga of trying to preserve what’s left of an old major-league ballpark.  

But it’s gone now.

We couldn’t save Navin Field, but I like to think we kept its spirit alive.

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Matthew Herch

And now there’s another ballpark that needs restoring.

And it’s right there in the middle of Detroit, in this little city called Hamtramck, Michigan.

I’m so pleased to be with you here today in the hometown of Jackie Robinson. It’s been a long, strange trip for a Syrian-American kid from the east side of Detroit.

Now I’m not a scholar like Terry Cannon or Albert Kilchesty … or a researcher like Dr. Santillan or Dr. Revel … or these guys in Detroit, Rod Nelson and Gary Gillette, but as far as I can tell, in the history of the game, there’ve only been two major-league players of Middle Eastern descent.

And there hasn’t been one in 30 years.

Not since Sammy Khalifa played shortstop for the Pittsburgh Pirates.

So that got me thinking … while I’m proud to be here with you at the Baseball Reliquary, I think I’ll be even more proud and more pleased when I look out between the lines of a major-league diamond … and see a Middle Eastern face in baseball again.

There’s a kid out there somewhere, just waiting to be discovered.

Maybe he’s Yemeni like Adam Mused.

Maybe he’s Lebanese like Joe Lahoud.

Maybe he’s even Muslim … like Sammy Khalifa.

And maybe — just maybe — he's from Hamtramck, Michigan.
Thank you.

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Dave Mesrey is a founding member of the Navin Field Grounds Crew. 

Photo by Jesse Saucedo

The Georgia Peach, the Sultan of Swat & Detroit's 30th annual Babe Ruth Birthday Bash

By Michael Betzold

The first time George Ruth came to Michigan and Trumbull on May 11, 1915, Ty Cobb faced him twice and had two singles as the Tigers beat the Red Sox, 5-1. Ruth was a pitcher for Boston then—and soon became the best left-handed hurler in the American League.

You know George better, no doubt, as a Yankee slugger named Babe—and when he started visiting Detroit in that guise in the 1920s, he routinely filled Navin Field. He was the biggest sports star America had seen—well, since Cobb.

Cobb hated the slugger Babe, at least at first. The introduction of a livelier ball in 1920 meant that Cobb’s “small ball” brand of baseball—punching hits and wreaking havoc on the base paths—was over.

Years ago, when I wrote Queen of Diamonds, I recycled what I then knew about Cobb, and it wasn’t flattering. Like most of us, I didn’t know anything different. 

But now I do. I’ve recently read Charles Leerhsen’s astounding new biography, Ty Cobb: A Terrible Beauty.

It turns out that Cobb wasn’t a racist psychopath, but a psychological intimidator—fiercely competitive with a sharp intellect, short-tempered but sometimes kind.

The Cobb we thought we knew during the past half-century was in large part a caricature created by a hack ghostwriter named Al Stump. Director Ron Shelton piled on with a ridiculous movie in 1994 starring Tommy Lee Jones:

Leerhsen suggests we like to feel superior to this cartoon of a Southern rube. But, in fact, Cobb actually came from an abolitionist family. And, no, he didn’t murder a black man in an alley in Detroit. He didn’t sharpen his spikes. He was well read and multi-faceted.

A Terrible Beauty is both a merciless dissection of a false narrative built on shoddy journalism and a redemptive illustration of what dogged and fair journalism can reveal—even about a subject we thought we knew. In this heyday of fake news and facts up for grabs, it’s a triumph of solid research over conjecture.

Nowhere does Cobb’s reputation deserve rehabilitation more than here in Detroit. We honor Joe Louis and Gordie Howe, but we malign this other great local sports hero—and very unfairly. Everyone who wants to understand an important part of our city’s history should read A Terrible Beauty. And that goes quadruple if you’re any kind of baseball fan.

And if you are—or if you just enjoy a party—be at Nemo’s Bar & Grill the evening of Saturday, Feb. 4. That’s when Navin Field Grounds Crew founder Tom Derry will throw his 30th annual Babe Ruth birthday bash:



This year there’ll be a swing band, and the special guest will be ex-Tiger Denny McLain, the last man who will ever win 30 games in a single season (he did it in the world championship season of 1968). Derry points out that McLain, like his hero the Babe, liked “living large” and that 30 years and 30 wins adds up to sixty—the famed single-season home run record that Ruth held for 34 years.

Leerhsen tells us that in retirement Cobb and Ruth eventually became friends and played golf together. Fittingly, Ty’s granddaughter Cindy Cobb will also be at the Ruth bash, where we’ll drink a few toasts to baseball history a stone’s throw from where the Babe once threw pitches to the “Georgia Peach.”

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The Babe Ruth Birthday Party takes place Saturday, February 4, at 7:14 p.m., at Nemo's Bar & Grill in Detroit's historic Corktown neighborhood.

Click here for directions.
And click here for more details.

Michael Betzold is a Detroit-based freelance writer and a regular contributor to Motor City Muckraker. 

Yesterday and Today: Aerial footage of Navin Field (site of Detroit's historic Tiger Stadium)

SUMMER 2015:



SUMMER 2016:



Video courtesy of Tony Leja

Yesterday & Today: Detroit's iconic Tiger Stadium site in ruins

Summer 2015

Summer 2016

Summer 2015

Summer 2016

Summer 2017?

The end of an era comes to the site of Detroit's historic Tiger Stadium

Acclaimed architect and Michigan native John Davids said, "Any fool can maintain a current Major League baseball field. But it takes real talent to bring a ball field back from the dead."

That's what the NFGC did in 2010.

Despite being threatened with arrest from the City of Detroit, we took a weed- and garbage-infested lot and turned it into a field of dreams. We created a tourist destination, drawing visitors from around the world.

We never asked The Skillman Foundation, The Kresge Foundation, the Ralph Wilson Foundation, or the Detroit Tigers for a penny. We paid for everything ourselves.

We're the group that brought youth baseball to Michigan and Trumbull. We also brought back adult fast-pitch baseball, and vintage "base ball," as it was played in the 1860s.

We provided a much-needed green space in the heart of Detroit's historic Corktown neighborhood. For the past six years, this has been an open park where residents could play sports, walk their dogs, have picnics and parties, and fly kites.

It's also been a site where people have come to get married, and to scatter the ashes of their loved ones. This is a story that is uniquely Detroit.

We don't believe there has ever been another time when a Major League Baseball stadium was torn down, and a group of volunteers decided to rescue the field and preserve a public park.

Our six-year run at the field is over. We're pleased that baseball will continue to be played at The Corner. We hope that Detroit PAL will decide to at least save the grass and dirt infield. We also hope the field will remain accessible to the public.

While we've been around for more than six years, I believe the NFGC is still in its infancy. Our group is not only passionate about baseball, we also want to work to improve parks in Detroit and the surrounding area.

We might go to historic Hamtramck Stadium, Northwestern High School, or any number of parks in Detroit.

We will continue to host cool events, like our recent screening of Mark Fidrych's Monday night victory over the Yankees in 1976.

Some members of the NFGC live in Detroit, and some don't. But Detroit lives in every member of our crew.

We are excited as we move on to our next project. We'll be sure to keep you posted.

As for me, I didn't take any sod from the field as a souvenir. Instead, I'll take all the friends I've made at Navin Field over the past six years. They mean more to me than anything.

Thank you for all your kind words since May of 2010. We couldn't have restored this field without your support.

Sincerely,

Tom Derry
Founder
Navin Field Grounds Crew

Celebrate the Year of the Bird Tuesday, June 28 at Cinema Detroit

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TUESDAY, JUNE 28, 2016

Doors at 6 p.m. ​ 
Showtime at 7 p.m.

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CINEMA DETROIT
4126 Third St., Detroit

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Join Cinema Detroit and the Navin Field Grounds Crew as we celebrate the 40th anniversary of Mark "The Bird" Fidrych's signature game with the Detroit Tigers.

On June 28, 1976, before a live TV audience on ABC's Monday Night Baseball, Detroit's tongue-tied 21-year-old rookie phenom Mark Fidrych goes the distance, mowing down Billy Martin's New York Yankees, 5-1, and electrifying the Tiger Stadium crowd with his wacky antics and childlike exuberance.

This was the night America discovered The Bird.

After the game, with 48,000 fans chanting "We want the Bird!" the reluctant rookie emerges from the Tigers' dugout to a standing ovation, covering his head in his hands and grinning from ear to ear.

Teenage girls shriek with glee. 

Old ladies shout for joy. 

Policemen scramble to shake his hand.

This was The Bird's finest hour.

Join us, 40 years to the day, as we screen the game in its entirety and celebrate the spirit of '76, the spirit of Tiger Stadium, and the spirit of the late, great Mark "The Bird" Fidrych.

(The game originally aired June 28, 1976, but was blacked out in the Detroit area.)

Now see the game in its entirety for the first time on the big screen in Detroit, and see Mark "The Bird" Fidrych in his prime.

No tickets needed for this very special event.
Seating is limited, so please arrive early.

Doors open at 6 p.m.
Showtime is at 7 p.m. 

Suggested $7 donation at the door.

For those of you on Facebook, click here to RSVP to the event.

A​ portion of the proceeds will benefit the Mark Fidrych Foundation.

Also, while supplies last, guests of Cinema Detroit will receive a commemorative Mark "The Bird" Fidrych rookie card:

​

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Cinema Detroit is located at 4126 Third Street in Midtown Detroit.

For directions, click here.

Safe at home

The author and his daughter, Katherine Brown, at Detroit's historic Navin Field. 

After living in California for nearly 40 years, longtime Tigers fan and Navin Field Grounds Crew member Robert Howe proves you can go home again.

BY ROBERT HOWE

Home. 

A single word that conjures up so many things. It could be the home where we grew up or that special place where we felt our most comfortable, our home away from home. 

From the late 1950s through the late 1970's, I grew up in the suburbs of Detroit. 

In 1965 when I was just 7, my dad, Ernie Howe, introduced me to the game of baseball — Detroit Tigers baseball at Tiger Stadium. I knew that very day that I'd discovered my home away from home. 

Holding my dad's hand, we walked through the tunnels behind the stands, passing the concession stands, walking up the ramp, and it at was this moment that my world changed forever! Up until then, my only view of the ballpark had been in black-and-white, on TV in our living room.

Now, here I was in this cathedral of baseball. I couldn't get over how green everything was. From the wooden seats, to the facade, but most of all the emerald green of the grass. It started in front of home plate, then seemed to go on forever! I watched in amazement as a group of men ran out onto the field, each of them carrying the biggest brooms I had ever seen. Then in unison, they began to sweep the infield dirt in what can only be described as a baseball ballet. It became a goal of mine to one day groom that very infield.

Little did I know.

Built in 1895 at the corner of Michigan and Trumbull, the first baseball structure on the site was called Bennett Park, named after former Tigers catcher Charlie Bennett. The initial structure was built out of wood, and the first professional game was played there on April 28, 1896 (My dad's birthday was April 28, 1919).

In 1911, because of the concern of fire, Detroit Tigers owner Frank Navin demolished the original
ballpark and erected a new concrete-and-steel structure. After Navin died in 1935, new owner Walter Briggs remodeled and expanded the ballpark into what most of us remember today. 

The stadium was completely enclosed, with the flagpole located in left-center field, the only flagpole in Major League Baseball in play. In 1961, broadcasting magnate John Fetzer bought the team from the Briggs family and changed the name to Tiger Stadium, the name it would remain until its demolition in 2009.

After that first game in 1965, my dad and I (and sometimes my mom) spent many summer days at
"The Corner." 1968 was a magical year! After losing the pennant by one game in 1967, the year Detroit was devastated by the riots, the Tigers helped to heal the city in 1968, winning their first pennant in 23 years, going on to beat the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series coming back from a three games to one deficit! 




It would be another 16 years before the Tigers would win another world championship. The 1984 Tigers roared out of the gate with a 35-5 start, eventually beating the San Diego Padres in the World Series four games to one.

The Tigers won the American League East in 1987, but were eliminated in the first round of playoffs. It would be the last time Tiger Stadium would host a postseason series. 




There's a line in the movie A League of Their Own when the manager played by Tom Hanks says, "There's no crying in baseball!"


The Tigers played their final game at The Corner to a sellout crowd on September 27, 1999. That day, there was crying in baseball. 


In 2009, after the stadium sat abandoned for nearly 10 years, the City of Detroit tore it down, tearing out the hearts of Tigers fans everywhere. 2010 saw the passing of Hall of Fame and longtime Tigers broadcaster Ernie Harwell. 

Ernie was the voice of the baseball in Detroit, beginning in 1960, up until his retirement in 2002.

A week after Ernie's passing, a Detroit mailman named Tom Derry drove to the vacant lot where Tiger Stadium once stood to play a game of catch in Ernie's memory. What Tom found, instead of that beautiful emerald green diamond, was a neglected patch of weeds and nine acres of garbage. 

But instead of crying, Tom decided to take it upon himself, along with the help of his fiancee, Sarah, and his new friends Dave Mesrey and Joe Michnuk, to cut the weeds, mow the grass, and pick up the trash.

The Navin Field Grounds Crew was born that day. 

For the next six years, Tom and his merry band of volunteers showed up every Sunday at the site of historic Tiger Stadium, mowing, weeding, and picking up the pesky trash, bringing a diamond back from the rough.

My wife, Sheilagh, and I first heard about this dedicated group of volunteers while living in Northern
California in 2011. The memories came flooding back. 

Even though I moved from Michigan in 1978 when my dad retired after 30 years with a local building contractor, my allegiance for the Tigers never wavered. I never became a Dodgers, Angels, Athletics, or Padres fan the entire time. 

In 2009 I started to get homesick for the place where I grew up. In 2012, our youngest daughter, Katherine (born in 1984, the year of the Tigers' last world championship, she didn't stand a chance; the Tigers are in her DNA), treated her dad to a wonderful trip to Detroit, attending our first Tigers game together at Comerica Park.

We watched the Tigers sweep a four-game series against the Cleveland Indians. We both wanted to
visit Navin Field, site of historic Tiger Stadium, so I could show her where I watched games growing up. We walked from our hotel to "The Corner" bringing our gloves, a couple of balls, and my Al Kaline bat. One of the best days of my life. (Katherine would later gift me with an amazing book of memories from our trip.) I knew then, standing on that field, that I needed to come home.

My wife, (the best in the world) didn't hesitate when I asked her if she would move to Michigan.
July 27, 2013, two moving trucks, three dogs, a house we had purchased sight unseen (albeit for a
few online photos and an inspection by my childhood friend Fred Makowski), we came home!

After a month of working on the house, my honey and I took the weekend off because I wanted to
take Sheilagh down to the old ballpark. Several members of NFGC were there. We introduced
ourselves, and we were immediately welcomed by Tom Derry himself as if we'd known each other for years. (That's the way Tom is with everyone he meets.)

I asked Tom if I could grab a broom and help out, fulfilling that almost 50-year-old memory, to sweep the infield at Tiger Stadium. Tom said, "Of course!" 

I don't know who had the biggest smile that day, myself or my sweet wife, who knows how much I love baseball. My wife had become a Tigers fan (how could she not?), amazing me every day with her growing knowledge of not only the game but the history of the Detroit Tigers. We both knew that day that coming home was the right decision. 

This field was our "refuge" from the rest of the world, to quote Ernie Harwell. It was not only the energy of the field, fueled by the memories of all of the baseball heroes who had played on her, it was combined with the energy of this magnificent group of unselfish people, who took care of her on their own dime, never asking for donations.

To paraphrase the James Earl Jones speech in Field of Dreams, "People will come, Tom. They'll come to Michigan for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up your driveway, not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past."

"Of course, we won't mind if you have a look around," you'll say. "It's only twenty dollars per person." They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it; for it is money they have and peace they lack."



But unlike the movie, Tom has never asked for a dime. The crew's budget has largely come out of Tom's pocket, expecting nothing in return. Yet, people have offered money to pay for gas or a broom or a rake, because this very special place means so much to them. 

2013 saw the premiere of Stealing Home the award-winning documentary about the NFGC.

Director Jason Roche spent over two years, nearly every weekend, shooting footage of not only the grounds crew, but also filming memories of the hundreds of visitors who make the weekly trek to a very special place in their hearts and minds. 

Jason's film brought so much attention to the field and the Grounds Crew, that the hundreds of weekly visitors turned into thousands from all over the world! 

Jason, we cannot thank you enough for your huge contribution of love.

In 2014, Sheilagh and I were honored to attend the wedding of Tom and Sarah Derry on the very field Tom brought back to life. Vintage baseball returned to the corner, playing by the original rules laid out for the game, and officiated by Michael “Preacher” Copado. 

So very fitting for a place with its rich history of the game. Then there were all the pickup games that occurred at a moment's notice when groups of people arrived at the field. Total strangers with a common bond, getting together to "have a catch" because of their love of this wonderful, magical place. People taking pictures on the mound, or at home plate, or from their baseball hero's position. 

Others have brought their loved ones' ashes, scattering them on the field because it was either the request of that loved one, or the field meant so much to the person who was scattering the ashes, because this was where they and their loved one spent so much time together, at their home away from home.

For the last two and a half years (which has seemed like mere minutes), my honey and I have made
the one-hour trip south to the Motor City, bringing our love and affection to not only that beautiful
nine acres of hallowed ground, but to that wonderful family called the Navin Field Grounds Crew, and that love and affection has been returned to us a thousand fold. 

To Tom and Sarah Derry, words cannot express how much your friendship means to us. 

To Joe, Andorra, Rick, Mickey, John, Adam, Angemala, Bill, Baseline Bob, Bart, Dave, Laura, Donald, and Erik ... thank you for accepting us into the family. 

We don't know what the future holds for us at "The Corner," but no matter where we go and what we do to preserve and save another baseball legend in the Detroit area, we'll always have our memories of this wonderful place and, most importantly, we'll always be the Navin Field Ground Crew.

Thanks to Tom Derry, the people have come. 
They've all come home.

Left to right: NFGC's Rick DeLorme, Sheilagh Howe, and Robert Howe.