For those Detroit Tigers fans who have followed my work over the years, some of this may sound familiar. I grew up a Tigers fan, and my experiences watching this team have shaped how I view the game. For those reading my work for the first time, thank you for taking the time to do so.

I was three years old when the Tigers won the World Series in 1984, so I have no real recollection of the great Tigers pitchers of the past, outside of Jack Morris. Even then, Morris wasn't the same type of pitcher as Roger Clemens or Randy Johnson. There was nothing wrong with that. He came from an era when going the distance and picking up wins were among the most important measures of a starting pitcher. Morris won more games than anyone during the 1980s, and his ability to deliver in big moments helped build his Hall of Fame résumé.

Growing up in the Detroit suburbs, I watched as strikeouts became an increasingly prominent part of baseball's appeal. With ESPN and other national outlets showcasing the game's biggest stars, pitchers who could overpower hitters became must-see television. As offensive numbers climbed throughout the 1990s, strikeout artists like Johnson, Clemens and Pedro Martinez stood out even more. They were the kind of pitchers who could take over a game and shut down an offense almost single-handedly.

For a young Tigers fan watching from Detroit, those were the pitchers who represented what a dominant ace looked like. So when the Tigers started their dive towards the bottom of the AL East after their farm system was gutted for spare parts to keep the team competitive,  I was sold on guys like Kevin Ritz, David Haas and others, as a part of the Tigers "future". Great work here by George Kell, by the way. 

For a young Tigers fan watching from Detroit, those were the pitchers who represented what a dominant ace looked like. Meanwhile, the Tigers were beginning their slide toward the bottom of the AL East, with a farm system that had been depleted in an effort to keep the team competitive. I bought into guys like Kevin Ritz, David Haas and eventually Justin Thompson as part of the Tigers' future. Every young pitcher who showed a little promise gave me another reason to believe the organization might finally have someone who could match up with the game's best.

But there was a difference between hoping a pitcher could become an ace and actually watching one develop into one. For most of my childhood and teenage years, I knew what that looked like because I watched other teams have them.

When you're young and desperate for something to look forward to, it's easy to convince yourself that the next great pitcher is already in the organization. Ah, youth, and also, being surrounded by Braves fans because of local hero Steve Avery. And by the way, great work here by George Kell on the voice over.

The Futures Game Changed The Pessimism. 

Then came 2005. As far as prospects went, I wasn't following as much as I once did. My son was born, was trying to figure out what I wanted to be as a person to pay the bills. Baseball was the furthest thing from my mind. Then Justin Verlander started the Futures Game. To me, that was a big deal then. No offense to Preston Larrison or the other pictures who made it before, but they never started a game. Granted, it was his first appearance at Comerica Park and probably was a move for local fans, but his season in the minors earned the start.

I didn't know it at the time, but Verlander would get his first call to Detroit later that season. His first two big league starts weren't exactly polished. The stuff was there, but the command wasn't quite where it needed to be. Still, there was something about watching him pitch that made me believe I was seeing the beginning of something special.

The only way I can explain it is to imagine spending years going to concerts, watching hundreds of bands take the stage. You've seen the great ones, the average ones and plenty you couldn't remember the next morning. Then one night, you watch an opening act that hasn't quite figured everything out yet. Maybe the timing is off, or a few songs don't land the way they should. But there's something about the way they carry themselves, the way they command your attention, that makes you turn to the person next to you and say, "These guys are going to headline their own shows someday."

That's what watching Verlander felt like to me. I couldn't have told you then that I was watching a future Hall of Famer. Nobody could have known that. But after years of watching other teams develop the kind of pitchers I wished Detroit had, here was this kid with an electric arm who made me wonder if, for once, the Tigers had finally found their guy.

From promising rookie to must-see JV

Looking back, what made Verlander's development so enjoyable was that it didn't happen overnight. He wasn't immediately the finished product, and I think that's something we sometimes forget when discussing his career. We remember the Cy Young Awards, the strikeouts and the no-hitters, but there was a period when we were still trying to figure out just how good this kid could become.

In 2006, he won 17 games, posted a 3.63 ERA and helped the Tigers reach their first World Series since 1984. After watching the organization struggle throughout much of my childhood and teenage years, seeing a homegrown pitcher become an important part of a winning team was something I hadn't experienced before. Watching him pitch in The Bronx, in meaningful baseball, that fall of 2006 was just insane to me. I found myself in utter disbelief, the Tigers play in New York after watching them dominate the late 90's. 

Verlander wasn't carrying the entire pitching staff, but he was already giving fans plenty of reasons to believe the Tigers had something special.

Then came 2007. He won 18 games, struck out 183 batters and threw his first no-hitter against Milwaukee. If 2006 introduced him to the rest of baseball, 2007 showed us what he was capable of when everything came together.

But his development wasn't a straight line, which is so cliche for people who write about prospects say but it's true. In 2008, Verlander lost 17 games, his ERA climbed to 4.84 and the Tigers finished last in the AL Central. The same pitcher who had looked like a future ace suddenly had plenty of questions surrounding him.

And this is where I think the story gets interesting.

By 2009, Verlander wasn't just showing flashes of dominance anymore. He was starting to put everything together. He led the American League with 269 strikeouts over 240 innings, won 19 games and began looking much more like the pitchers I had spent the previous decade watching from afar.

The fastball was always there, but watching him learn how to use it was something else entirely. There was a difference between a young pitcher who could throw 100 mph and one who understood how to reach back for that extra velocity when he needed it.

By 2010, I had started planning my evenings around his starts. It wasn't necessarily because I expected him to throw a no-hitter every time out. It was because I knew that, on any given night, I might see something I had never seen before for a guy in a Tigers uniform. 

He won 18 games that season, struck out 219 batters and finished with a 3.37 ERA. Those numbers were impressive, but they don't completely explain what it felt like to watch him pitch. There was an anticipation that came with every start. You wanted to see how hard he was throwing, how many hitters he could strike out and whether the opposing lineup had any chance of figuring him out.

Remember that concert analogy from earlier? By this point, the opening act was selling out its own shows. The potential we had seen in 2005 had become something much more substantial.

And then came 2011.

I don't know how else to describe that season other than to say it was everything I had spent my childhood wishing the Tigers had. My father, who liked baseball, but wasn't the fan I was, remembered his name. He was a man who grew up in Cuba, escaping to get his piece of the American Dream so at this point, he had other interests that kept him entertained but I remember him coming away impressed, something that didn't happen often. But I digress. 

Here was a pitcher who could overpower hitters, work deep into games and make you feel like Detroit had an advantage before the first pitch was even thrown.

Verlander went 24-5 with a 2.40 ERA, struck out 250 batters and threw 251 innings. He won the American League Cy Young Award and MVP, becoming the first starting pitcher to win the AL MVP since Roger Clemens in 1986.

That last part meant something to me.

Clemens was one of the pitchers I grew up watching dominate the Tigers. He was part of that group of aces who made me wonder when Detroit would ever develop someone like him. Now, more than two decades later, a pitcher the Tigers had drafted and developed was putting together a season that belonged in the same conversation.

I had gone from watching other teams' aces on Sunday Night Baseball to highlight clips. to watch one pitch for my own team.

And the best part was that I didn't have to wait for the highlights anymore. I could watch the entire performance unfold, from the first inning when Verlander was establishing his fastball to the later innings when he somehow appeared capable of throwing even harder.

It wasn't simply about the numbers, although those were remarkable. It was the experience of watching a pitcher reach a level I had previously associated with the game's biggest names, knowing that I had been there to see him develop from the beginning.

Even during his struggles in 2015 and 2016, I figured it was something like Steve Blass, where he just mentally just lost it. It was strange not to see him dominate like once did. But the competitive fire was there, just something was a miss. 

For someone who grew up watching the Tigers try to find their next great starting pitcher, there was something incredibly satisfying about that. Verlander wasn't somebody else's ace anymore.

He was ours. I know what fans will say, the Tigers didn't get the production they wanted out of him, but I simply do not care. The ceremony yesterday, how A.J. Hinch is letting him go out there today is a sign of respect he has earned. 

Today, as a fan, I am going to sit back and take off my "analytical" and reporter view to watch him pitch. Thanks, Justin, for giving Detroit a pitching hero to join in the historcial ranks of Tigers history.