Bandwagons are fun, right?

The Boston Red Sox won the World Series two years ago. Next thing you know, every East Coaster - and let's face it, everyone who wanted to look like he was from the East Coast - was sporting their pre-faded BoSox hat to Econ 101. And when last year the Chicago White Sox won the Pennant, breaking yet another curse, nearly everyone acted like they had been dreaming Chicago would return to glory since Little League.

So when the Tigers clinched their first playoff berth since 1987 against Kansas City nearly a week ago, I was sure that kids would be writing home, asking their parents to mail them a Tigers cap and possibly a Rodriguez jersey. But to my surprise, there wasn't much Tigers' frenzy. A couple more kids were doting T-shirts but on the whole, the student body didn't seem to care.

Yesterday was different, though. It seemed you couldn't go a block without seeing someone in a Tigers uniform. And given the enormous East Coast contingent here at the University, you saw equally as many Yankees caps and tees - at least there wasn't as much BoSox paraphernalia.

What I want to know? Where the hell were all of these Tigers' fans this season? Even on the cusp of the best Tigers' season in years, there was a general sense of malaise among most of the student body about the Tigs. Sure, you could hear people talking about the big homerun Granderson hit the night before or the 20 game lead that "no one will ever catch," but who knew about the singing of UNC ace Andrew Miller? How about when we let go Dimitri Young? Any discussion about Matt Stairs or Brent Clevlen?

It was still shocking when I made it to my first game this summer and saw fans in the stands. I simply couldn't believe my eyes. The best part about going to Tigers' games when I was younger was running to the front rows that were always empty.

The fact is, only a few people on campus have been talking about the Tigers consistently. They are the same people who made it to a number of games this summer. The same ones who have been neglecting their homework to watch games against Kansas City, Toronto and Texas - hell, the people who paid to go see these games.

But if you think about it, can you really blame these people for not caring about the Tigs, and on a more upsetting level, not caring about baseball as a whole? Let's take a quick look at how America's pastime became a gothic sport in Detroit.

The Tigers are essentially a dynasty. As one of the longest-standing major league teams, the Tigs have fallen into and out of glory throughout their history. Having won nine American League Pennants since 1907 and four World Series titles dating back to 1935 (the latest being 1984), the Tigers have made their presence known throughout the game's history.

But within the last 20 or so years, the Tigers have, and let's face it, been absolutely atrocious. With many 100-loss seasons, there hasn't been much reason for Detroit youngsters to care about the sport - and since most of us weren't even born to see the last Tigers' Pennant, many probably never cared about them. They haven't even been respectable since the late '80s. Sure, they had their top-notch players and an iconic manager in Sparky Anderson, but besides that, there really wasn't any reason to pay much attention to our feline friends - and speaking of feline heroes, when are the Lions going to be relevant?

Back to baseball. It's nearly impossible to blame everyone for the lack of interest in the Tigers. To be honest, since the Major League strike in 1994 that created the first cancellation of the World Series since 1904, baseball has been on the decline altogether. Fans stopped caring for their hometown teams and the game in general.

A gentleman's game in contemporary society simply isn't possible. The pace of the game is slower than the largest sports in the United States (football and basketball). Most people don't have the patience for the game, while most kids don't want to play it - especially those banished to the outfield at a time when most kids can't hit the ball past the pitcher. And who could really blame them? Baseball is mostly the pitcher/hitter battle. If you don't understand it, or if you're not directly involved in it, the game really can be boring.

But as a former pitcher, baseball has always been extremely intricate and almost always enthralling. Watching how certain hitters are fielded or what offensive moves and chances a manager takes is the heart of the game and surprisingly interesting. But I can certainly understand why people might not care about the game.

In the days of yore, when families averaged somewhere around four children and everyone loved double-headers, peanuts and a good game of catch, it was easy for the neighborhood to get a drop in game going. Because it really does take 18 players to have a good game of baseball. There's no way to play a five vs. five game.