It was 1985, and I was a 14 year old Tigers fan, fresh off the high of winning the World Series. I had a half-baked scheme to become a bat girl for the club. Living in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, logistical difficulties didn’t seem to trouble my young teen brain. I figured I’d move in with my grandparents in Livonia for the summer, and make them drive me to the ballpark for games. Thoughtful girl. Turns out, fretting about living arrangements and rides would not be necessary.
I penned a letter to the Tigers, asking to be considered for a bat girl position.