Here's how you're supposed to do things, boys:
You're supposed to lose the close games, give up the big innings, make baserunning blunders, have mental meltdowns, be in way over your heads, get intimidated by great opponents, swing at the first pitch, pop up to the catcher with two out and a runner on third, let the Texas-Leaguer drop in for a hit, throw the ball away, make the clubhouse acrimonious, walk in the winning run, and strike out way too often.
Instead, this is the sort of chicanery you pull:
You're winning pitchers' duels, having the starters go deep into games, getting the key hits, being patient at the plate, playing together as a team, making the tough throws, catching those long drives in the gap, not backing down for anyone, converting the save opportunities, bunting the runner over, throwing efficient innings, getting the ground-ball outs, and walking with a little swagger these days.
The Tigers are dead. Long live the Tigers.