Bob Wojnowski: Justin Verlander exits with flair and tears, leaves lasting mark
Published in Baseball
DETROIT — He delayed his exit as long as he could, longer than anyone anticipated. Justin Verlander pitched through the third inning, then the fourth and the fifth, the crowd rising and roaring with each at bat and each strikeout.
It was Vintage JV, frozen in time, his first start in nearly six months and his final start after 21 years. These are the moments only baseball can deliver, and this was something only Verlander could provide. He threw 91 pitches, reaching 95 mph on his fastball, striking out six Pittsburgh Pirates while allowing five hits. On his last pitch of the day, he retired Brandon Lowe on a popup in the sixth, then looked behind home plate and saw two people approaching.
Manager AJ Hinch walked out slowly to pull him one final time. But only after Verlander’s 7-year-old daughter, Genevieve, sprinted to the mound and wrapped her arms around her father, hugging as if she finally got him and couldn’t let go. Verlander’s head shook with sobs as he squeezed back, and in that exchange, the transition was complete for the greatest pitcher ever to play for the Tigers.
Hinch stepped toward the mound, took a courtesy step back, then moved in and embraced Verlander. The Comerica Park crowd of 41,377 offered one more raucous salute, as fans cheered and wept. Verlander, 43, is the sports hero who left but never forgot where he grew up, or how he grew into one of the sport’s all-time dominant starters.
The baseball gods and sun gods kissed this one, on a spectacular sunny Saturday awash in every emotion imaginable. As if that wasn’t enough, the game ended on a walk-off two-run homer by rookie Eduardo Valencia to lift the Tigers past the Pirates, 4-3, on the next-to-last day of the season.
Hinch and Verlander had no idea what to expect in only his second outing all season, after battling hip and hamstring injuries. Safe to say, it exceeded their expectations nevertheless. How often does anybody get to say goodbye on their terms, with the perfect mix of competitive flair and sentimental tears?
“The crowd definitely brought back a lot of memories,” Verlander said. “I mean, the vibe in the stadium, from the second I walked on the field, was just really incredible. Some really fond memories of the days when this ballpark was absolutely raucous every single night.”
Those are the days the fans will never forget. This is the day Verlander will always remember.
He has spoken wistfully about the time he has missed with his family — wife Kate, daughter Genevieve, 7, son Bellamy, 1 — and why they, as much as his battered body, were the pull toward retirement. It was clear in that embrace on the mound, and even clearer when Verlander was asked in the press conference, how will you tell your kids why this mattered so much?
Almost immediately, he dropped his head and cried again.
“I mean, you commit your life to something, I've been a baseball player since I was 5 years old,” he said, swallowing hard on the words. “I gave everything for this. I left home, she's in school, and I wasn't there. There's just a level of commitment it takes to be great at something, and I hope she understands. My family means the world to me. And I'm just so happy that I get the opportunity now to make up for lost time.”
Verlander said he had no idea his family would be on the field, and when he hugged Genevieve, his first thought was to explain his tears were of joy, not sadness. Hinch had orchestrated the surprise, and executed it perfectly.
No matter how you view Verlander’s second stint here — one start in March followed by hip and hamstring injuries that idled him all summer — his reputation and records are unimpeachable. His aura was built on more than just the accomplishments — three Cy Young Awards, three no-hitters, eighth on the all-time strikeout list. His personality is dynamic, his competitiveness ferocious and his talent and endurance unmatched.
He rushed his rehab to get back for this final game and still managed to uncork the occasional 95-mph fastball. He surrendered a pair of solo homers and not much else before getting the first out of the sixth. Hinch had spent the previous two innings pacing in the dugout, wondering when to provide the best possible exit, not too soon, not too late. This was it.
“He made it perfectly clear he didn't want the cameo appearance, right?” said Hinch, looking thoroughly relieved. “He didn't want to just come in for an inning and salute everybody. He wanted it to be competitive. He certainly did his part to leave us all with a reminder why he's one of the best of all time. It all works out in the end for legends.”
It’s doubtful we’ll ever see another pitcher quite like Verlander, a dominant workhorse. For the rarest of athletes, this was the rarest of endings, back where it all began. The two-day celebration was for Verlander and his family but it also was for the fans, who lined up hours before Friday night’s game, collecting souvenir Verlander bobbleheads.
At the end of the highlight videos and speeches, Verlander offered gratitude and a gift. Who knew this gruff, sometimes surly firebrand, was a sentimentalist at heart.
“I want to thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart,” he said, speaking to the Comerica Park crowd of 36,315 Friday night. “Your love and support has solidified to me that I am, and always will be, a Detroit Tiger.”
The crowd roared, and it sure sounded like a proclamation of his Hall of Fame intentions. Championships are indelible, and he won two World Series in Houston. But this is where he first rose, then fell, then rose again.
As it turns out, Verlander’s bond with Detroit was unbreakable, even though it technically was broken in 2017, when he was traded to the Houston Astros. He didn’t ask to leave but didn’t want to endure a rebuild. In Houston, he recaptured his superstardom, winning two more Cy Youngs, and many Tigers fans happily followed along.
Detroit loves its iconic athletes but few relationships endured as Verlander’s has. It’s amazing when you think about it. He won his first Cy Young here, threw two of his three no-hitters here and won an MVP here. He didn’t win a championship in 12 full seasons but delivered epic playoff performances against the New York Yankees and A’s. And now, nearly 10 years after he left, it was Must-See-JV again at Comerica Park, the stadium filled with orange and white jerseys, an autumn chill in the air.
By its very definition, nostalgia never dies. Verlander helped revive baseball here in 2006 when the Tigers made the World Series for the first time in 22 years. The stars kept coming — Pudge Rodriguez, Magglio Ordonez, Miguel Cabrera, Max Scherzer and so many more — and the Tigers kept rising, figuratively from the ashes of a crumbled city. In 2013, Detroit filed for bankruptcy and baseball was the escape, enlivening downtown every time the Tigers played, right through another World Series appearance in 2012.
The fondest farewells usually are reserved for returning champions, such as Isiah Thomas and the Bad Boys, or Steve Yzerman, Nicklas Lidstrom and the rest of the glory-year Red Wings, or Ben Wallace and the Goin’ to Work Pistons. But historic individual greatness also warrants celebration. Two of the all-time icons here, Barry Sanders and Calvin Johnson, left as broken heroes, and since have been embraced.
Verlander said he always wanted to come back, and it made sense to complete the circle with a one-year contract, although he hoped to play even longer. When he suffered an injury setback in June, he skipped rehab steps, desperate to deliver a heartfelt goodbye. He wanted to show he still could compete, but leave no doubt he’d emptied the tank.
“I feel good about it,” Verlander said. “I feel like I ran my race. I gave everything I had. … I'm not going to go home and lay my head on my pillow and think I left something out there. And that gives me some peace.”
Verlander was proud of his evolution over 21 years, recovering from periods of injuries and ineffectiveness when many assumed he was done. Ultimately, he sounded prouder of his evolution as a father and husband.
"We've talked about this, how I've changed and what my family means to me and what I'm looking forward most to in retirement," he said. "To be able to walk off the field with them, I can't think of a better ending."
He worked and waited a long time for it. When he finally got it, he squeezed as tightly as he could, and wasn’t letting go.
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