Detroit — It was three hours before the game, the wind was whipping and the temperature was hovering around 42. Miguel Cabrera came bounding out of the Tigers dugout and onto the field.
“Weather for baseball!” he yelled with a clap and a laugh. “Let’s go!”
It didn’t matter if it was weather for baseball or ice fishing. It didn’t matter if it was weather for history or histrionics. The field was green, the air was dry, the mood was light. Cabrera was in his element, in his happy zone, about to take his batting-practice swings.