Spring Training Begins: A Tigers Fan’s Journey Through Peaks, Valleys and New Beginnings

Spring training begins tomorrow with the Tigers and Yankees, and every year this moment lands a little differently depending on how long you’ve been watching.

The games don’t count. The standings stay still. But spring has always carried weight for baseball fans, a quiet reset that blends memory with hope. For some, it’s about roster battles and prospect debuts. For others, it’s something more personal, a marker that baseball is back and another season is about to unfold.

For me, it always circles back to where it started, my dad taking me to my first Tigers game in 1987, buying me my first glove, and those early days playing in the Southwest Dearborn Heights Baseball League, for my first team, the Wildcats. Back then, spring meant one thing: baseball was finally here again. I didnt care if the parking lot across the street where my younger brother and I would play when it was 45 and wet from the snow melting, it was just an excuse to get out of the house, get the gloves going that were not used to keep them warm. 

Over time, the meaning changes. You start measuring each new spring against the ones that came before, a little like those youth leagues where the rules were different, three balls and two strikes, speeding everything up and forcing you to adjust. My younger brother mastered that version of CYO ball.  I only played one season, but I still remember the lessons Coach Leminux drilled into us. Different game, same idea, learn, adjust, move forward. But I digress.

Older fans still remember Sparky Anderson taking a stand during the 1994 strike, refusing to manage replacement players. That moment felt bigger than baseball, a reminder that the game had lines even a Hall of Fame manager wouldn’t cross. Not long after, the franchise entered one of its roughest stretches — years where spring optimism often met hard reality by mid-April.

The early 2000s are impossible to forget. The Tigers opened 0-11 in 2002, a start that felt like it swallowed any momentum before it had a chance to build. The following season brought another slow opening, 0-4, the fourth time in 11 years the club had stumbled out of the gate that way. By the end of May, the team was already out of contention. To put it bluntly, it sucked. 

The rotation in 2003 said a lot about where the organization was: Nate Cornejo, Gary Knotts, Mike Maroth, Jeremy Bonderman, Adam Bernero. Guys trying to hold the line while the franchise searched for direction. Alan Trammell, the manager at the time,  was tasked with navigating a rebuild that never felt simple. Managing those teams meant balancing development with the daily reality of losing, and that’s never easy in a baseball city that remembers better days. But now, he is back, in the camp, like a Jedi master, with his towell cap, teaching infielders like Kevin McGonigle, who was born in Trammell's second year of his three year run as the team's manager. 

Spring training stories from that era had a familiar rhythm. Someone would put up big numbers in March and suddenly become the answer. Mike Rivera once looked like the catcher of the future after a strong spring in 2002. That’s what spring does, it lets you believe. Sometimes those stories last. Often they fade once the games start to count.

Then came the turning point.

When Mike Ilitch opened up the checkbook,  the tone around the franchise slowly changed. The organization started signing players with pedigree like Ivan Rodriguez, Magglio Orondez. It didn’t erase the lean years, but it gave the fan base a reason to believe that better days were possible.

And by 2006, something felt different. Good grief, it was a release of sorts to see young players actually put it together. 

You couldn’t always define it early, but you could sense it. The energy around the team shifted. The expectations changed. The Tigers played with a confidence that hadn’t been there for a long time, and by the end of the year the city was watching October baseball again. We all know what happened after that,  a run that reminded everyone how electric this franchise could be when things clicked. Justin Verlander was clean shaven then, now, he is the grizzled vet, back on the team. 

Since then, Tigers baseball has felt like a series of peaks and valleys. Contending years followed by rebuilds. Big moments followed by resets. Watching long enough teaches you that nothing stays the same, and that’s part of the draw. Every spring carries the possibility that things might turn again or frustate you to no end. 

That’s why these games still matter, even if they don’t count. You watch for small signs, a young player who looks ready, a veteran who seems comfortable, a team that carries itself just a little differently. You don’t overreact, but you pay attention.

As the Tigers take the field tomorrow, the cold weather may still be hanging around Metro Detroit, but baseball has a way of cutting through it. It brings back memories,  of the tough years, the breakthrough seasons, and everything in between.

Mostly, it’s just a reminder of why we keep coming back.

So as another spring begins, I’m grateful, for the memories, for the conversations, for everyone who follows along across the different accounts and platforms. Baseball has a way of connecting generations, from the first glove to the next season’s first pitch.

And no matter how many springs pass, that feeling never really goes away. 

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