The secret's out: you all have me to thank for 1984 Tigers' magical season

A simple mantra that began in late-March carried the '84 Tigers all the way to the promised land.

OK the secret’s out. Time for me to come clean.

I’m the one to thank for the 1984 Tigers season.

You heard me.

All the glory, all the “Bless You Boys” chants, all the fun of that summer—you all owe me one.

You’re welcome.

It’s time to tell the story now, on the 40th anniversary of what remains the year of the Tigers’ last world championship.

I was a 20-year-old, shaggy college student at Eastern Michigan University. As spring training neared its end, I was full of myself with optimism about my baseball team, which finished a strong second place in the AL East in 1983.

In the days leading to the regular season, I started saying the same thing to my friend, John Nixon, and anyone else who would listen, to be frank.

“The magic starts in four days,” I told John.

I saw him again the next day.

“The magic starts in three days.”

John would nod and smile—but maybe he was just placating me, his crazy pal.

And so it would continue.

The Tigers won on opening night in Minnesota. I saw John the next day. But I had slightly changed my mantra.

“The magic continues tomorrow in Minnesota.”

The Tigers kept winning. And I kept declaring that the magic would continue in (INSERT CITY). Jack Morris threw a no-hitter in Chicago on the day I was the best man in a wedding. I remember tugging on my tuxedo as Morris fired the last strike past the White Sox’ Ron Kittle on the NBC Game of the Week.

“He has his no-hitter!” Vin Scully blared into the microphone.

I saw John the next day. This time I didn’t have to say it. We both just smiled.

The Tigers won their first nine games. Then some kid named Bret Saberhagen shut them down for their first loss. Then, seven more wins in a row. The Tigers were 16-1.

I’m not sure when I stopped saying “The magic continues…” but it was likely somewhere in the first 20 games or so. That’s OK. I got the team off and running. They didn’t need me anymore.

Soon, 16-1 became 26-4, which became 35-5.

All summer, as the wins piled up and the Tigers eventually distanced themselves from the pesky Blue Jays, I privately took credit. I mean, who else was predicting magic?

Oh, there were definitely preseason prognosticators that had the 1984 Tigers making the leap from second place to division champs, but none predicted a wire-to-wire romp to the crown. None predicted magic.

But I did.

Maybe it was the late-spring training trade that brought lefty closer Willie Hernandez and 1B Dave Bergman to the Tigers. Don’t know. What I do know is that I felt something special in the air about the ‘84 Tigers, days before they threw the season’s first pitch.

So I declared it, publicly!

I’ve heard cynics say that the only reason the Tigers won the division is because they started 35-5 and then cruised. Wrong. The team went 69-53 after that, which is still a 90+ win pace. Funny how time clouds people’s memories.

Plus, the Tigers blazed through the post-season, going 7-1.

I remember that the Tigers were so dominant in ‘84 that whenever their lead over the Blue Jays got under double digits, folks got nervous.

I attended a Huey Lewis & the News concert at Pine Knob in July, with the Tigers in a mini-slump. Even Huey himself sensed the tension among the fans.

“Don’t worry about those Tigers! They’ll be OK!” Huey screamed on stage, to much cheering.

And they were, of course.

I retired my “The magic continues…” mantra until the playoffs started. I figured that while the Tigers didn’t need me after May, I shouldn’t take any chances in October.

I saw John Nixon the night before Game 1 of the ALCS. “The magic continues in Kansas City,” I said. The Tigers swept the Royals in three straight and I figured they didn’t need my help against the Padres, who they dumped out in five games in the best-of-seven.

The ‘84 Tigers have become the ‘68 Tigers for folks like me who were slightly too young to remember that magnificent summer of Kaline Cash, Lolich and Northrup. I feel sorry for the scores of fans who have no memory of the summer of Trammell, Whitaker, Morris, Gibson and Parrish—because they have no Tigers championship team about which to wax nostalgic.

But I’ll take my thanks now. I predicted the magic.

Did I have 35-5 in mind when I started my mantra?

THAT will remain a secret.