My sister once had a shirt that said: "Detroit: Where the weak are killed and eaten." I've also seen one with a smoking gun on it that declared: "Thanks for visiting Detroit; sorry we missed you." Now, thanks to a Facebook sidebar ad, I've finally found Detroit T-shirts with a positive spin. The Chet Lemon shirt is the best, not only because of its hip, clever pictogram but also because you really do have to be a longtime or lifetime Detroiter to know who Chet Lemon is. (He's a former Tigers outfielder.) I might buy one at some point, if only to mystify Seattle friends and start conversations.
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Chet Lemon was the greatest baseball player that ever lived. His feats of bravery and strength were unparalleled and his desire to vanquish opponents unmatched.
Many stories have been told of his greatness, but the one I remember most vividly was on a damp April day game in 1982 against the Milwaukee Brewers when Robin Yount hit a towering shot over the right field stands and Chester Earl Lemon leapt out of the stadium and across Trumbull Avenue to catch the ball just as he crashed into the wall of the lumber yard.
An awkward silence fell over the stadium as Tiger fans began to realize what they had seen. This was no mere mortal that had been patrolling center field - no this was a supernatural being cleverly disguised as a lowly chicken farmer that had been sent to Detroit, not from Chicago - but rather from the outermost regions of our known universe to deliver a World Series Championship to Detroit.
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