I turn 25 at the end of next month.

I know. It's all down hill from there, right?

I've seen a lot of things in the first quarter of my life.

I saw virtually every playoff exploit of Michael Jordan. I watched--at four-years-old--a plane explode on live tv. I saw who I think is the greatest entertainer in history go from a guy with a nice complexion and an afro to the Crypt Keeper. Or an old white lady. I can never decide which one.

One thing I have yet to see, though, is a playoff game in my hometown baseball stadium.

I was three when the Detroit Tigers won their fourth, and last, World Series title in 1984. I was in first grade the last time they even made the playoffs. I remember these things happening, I was just either too young, or not interested enough to care.

They've been awful since then. At one point, the summer of 2003, the Tigers were 9-35. They finished the season 43 up and 119 down. The worst mark ever for an American League team.

I remember that summer vividly. I was interning at a FOX affiliate in Southfield, Mi. I either watched, or went to, almost every game that summer. It was brutal. Comerica Park drew maybe 5,000 people for a Sunday afternoon game with Kansas City. Ok, there were more fans there than that, but it was so quiet I thought we were in church.

I think more people waited in line to get XBox 360s than to get Tiger tickets that summer. Starting pitcher Mike Maroth went 6-21. The Baseball Almanac web site says my Tigers were blown out 40 times that year.

Here are the reasons I went to more than one game that summer, in order of importance, of course: the failry high quality of trim that goes to Tiger games, my internship, huge drinks. I think I fell asleep at five games in a row at one point.  A maintenance man had to wake me up after an Indians' game. I'm not making this up.

That all seems like a distant memory now.

Detroit is 59-29. Best record in the league at the All-Star break. Comerica Park reaches capacity on the regular. There's even more trim there now, too.

Jim Leyland's old school approach has worked magic in Motown. In the past, if they got down a few runs, it seemed like the squad gave up. Not this year. A few weeks ago during interleague play, Detroit was down, 6-4, in the bottom of the ninth to St. Louis. People were trying to beat the traffic. DH Marcus Thames hit a bomb to left field to send the game into extras. The Tigers won in 10 innings.

That would have never happened in 2003, or any other year for that matter. This team has a certain swagger about it that few people around here have seen. The hot start helps. They could go 36-38 the rest of the way and still hit 95 wins.

The best part about it is that the guys seem to enjoying themselves. They smile in the dugout. Pitcher Nate Robertson stuffs wads of Big League Chew in his jaws to start rallies.

Everyone's enjoying this summer. The hot months are usually reserved for talking about how awful Matt Millen is and how cheap Mike Ilitch is.

After that Cardinals' game, I bought myself a Curtis Granderson jersey and a new Tigers' hat. I ripped the tags off and put them on when I left the stadium that night and I've worn them to every game I've gone to since then.

Hopefully I'll be wearing them downtown in October.