CHICAGO — I just couldn’t help myself. The heat index was 105 degrees when I hopped on the train in Downtown Chicago to head to Guaranteed Rate Field on Monday, August 26 — the day after the White Sox had lost for the 100th time of the 2024 season — and I had the sudden urge to send a snarky Slack message to Meg Rowley. “What are the odds that I’m one of 20 people in the stands today?” I also included a screenshot of the AccuWeather Minutecast.
After her response, two words that appropriately acknowledged the sweltering conditions, the exchange continued:
Matt Martell: Only the true sickos watch a team in August with more losses than the temperature.
Matt Martell: Is that my lede???
Meg Rowley: i think it is
I received my Certified Baseball Sicko diagnosis at an early age, but even I wouldn’t have endured that heat to watch the worst team in modern baseball history if I didn’t have to be there for work.
Chicago was the second stop on a cross-country roadtrip that had begun the previous Wednesday morning in Poughkeepsie, New York — about 20 minutes from Hopewell Junction, where I grew up and where my parents still live — and would end in Seattle 17 days later. My first destination was Pittsburgh, where on Thursday I saw Paul Skenes start, and wrote about his impact on the organization and its fans. The next day, I drove to Chicago to spend the weekend at Saberseminar with eight other FanGraphs staffers, including Michael Rosen, who detailed “the preeminent conference at the intersection of dingers and calculators” for Defector. I stuck around one more day to watch the White Sox play at home before driving to Minnesota on Tuesday to catch Wednesday’s Twins-Braves game.
Initially, I planned to ask a few dozen White Sox fans the same question: Why are you here? Of course, that is a question for the ages, one that could prompt a meditation on the meaning of life, but I was interested in a more specific context. Really, the connotation of my question was this: Why are you spending money to witness the team that you love degrade itself with such historical ineptitude? If that sounds needlessly harsh, well, that’s why I would’ve gone with the more philosophical and broadly worded version, but the purpose of my asking such a question wouldn’t have been cynical. Quite the opposite, in fact. There’s something romantic about cheering for a terrible team with the unconditional love that Roger Angell captured in his writings about the early-60s Mets. It’s the beautiful, irrational core of fandom that we sportswriters often overlook. That’s what I intended to do at the ballpark that night, anyway. Instead, the fans I encountered were there for a different kind of unconditional love.
After spending an uneventful top of the first inning talking with White Sox farm director Paul Janish, I left the press box for the stands. I never learned the journalist’s trick to estimate crowd size, so I can’t give you a number for how many people were in the ballpark for Davis Martin’s first pitch. What I can tell you is that the number was below the official 10,975 paid-attendance figure, and that I had no trouble finding good seats in the section behind home plate. I looked around and saw there weren’t many White Sox fans in the area: A middle-aged man and his not-quite-large adult son sat in the back and to the left of me — back and to the left — and one preschool boy who ran down the aisle before his dad caught up with him. That was pretty much it.
After another look, I realized that I was sitting among a sea of Tigers fans who all seemed to know each other. They cheered with every strike, but they also had a nervous energy that they were trying not to show; some were more successful than others. A few were clasping their hands together as if they were praying, while others were choking their beer cups instead of drinking from them. They grew more anxious as Andrew Vaughn stepped in with runners on the corners and one out; they offered reassurances after Vaughn’s sacrifice fly gave the White Sox an early lead. Finally, they erupted when Gavin Sheets grounded out to end the inning. The reaction seemed a bit excessive for a first-inning groundout against an opponent who at the time had a 31-100 record, but then I noticed something. Most of them were wearing a Tigers cap with the same lettering stitched into its side above the right ear: Ty Madden 8-26-24.
Ah, yes. That makes sense, I thought.
I pulled the Tigers’ game notes out of my pocket just to be sure. Yup, Detroit’s starter that night was Madden, a 24-year-old righty who had just been promoted from Triple-A Toledo. Unknowingly, I was sitting with his family and friends — about 50 of them, as one of his mom’s friends later told me — watching him complete the first inning of his major league career.
Admittedly, I didn’t know much about Madden other than his name, so I pulled out my phone and checked his FanGraphs player page and prospect report. Entering this season, Eric Longenhagen evaluated Madden as a “high-probability no. 4/5 starter,” assigned him a 45 FV, and ranked him the fifth-best prospect in the Tigers organization. Madden was bumped down to sixth when Eric updated the list midseason, after Detroit had drafted one prospect who ranked ahead of Madden and traded for another. (Colt Keith, who ranked third in the Tigers system before the season, exceed rookie limits during the year and wasn’t included on the latest list.)
While writing this story, I asked Eric for an updated evaluation of Madden based on his 2024 performance, and here’s what he said:
He’s had a pretty surprising uptick in walks this year, and when you put on the tape, he is indeed struggling with release consistency. But he’s sustained above-average stuff and has been durable amid multiple delivery tweaks since turning pro, and I think it’s fair to expect that he’ll eventually either refine his feel for his current delivery or keep making changes until things click. He’ll operate in a starter’s capacity for the foreseeable future during the regular season, but his current strike-throwing issues make him more of a multi-inning relief fit on Detroit’s playoff roster.
Madden had a much easier time in the second inning. He allowed a one-out single to Dominic Fletcher, who was erased two pitches later on Lenyn Sosa’s inning-ending double play. A woman a few rows in front of me shouted, “Yeah, Ty!” as he walked back to the dugout.
It was around this time that I decided I would stick with the Maddens for the rest of the game and skip the White Sox fans story. So many great pieces have been written about fans watching the team’s futility — Ben Strauss of The Washington Post has been sharing his favorites on Twitter all week, and I’d encourage you to check them out — and I’ve enjoyed reading them, but I figured I’d probably never again get the chance to see a major league debut through the eyes of his family and friends.
I knew I would write about watching the Madden Family Cheering Section watch Ty, but I didn’t want to intrude on their special moment, so I set a few rules:
1) I wouldn’t talk to them until Madden finished pitching, unless they said something to me first.
2) I would tell them exactly what I was doing as soon as I introduced myself, and if they weren’t okay with it, I would figure out another way to do this piece or come up with something else to write.
3) I wouldn’t interview them; they’d have enough going on without some stranger sticking a recorder in their faces. Instead, I would talk to them and take notes about what I experienced sitting there with them, but I wouldn’t quote any of them by name.
I think the beer started kicking in for the two White Sox fans sitting behind me in the third inning, because they suddenly became much more animated. Every time Martin threw a strike to the Tigers batters, the dad and his adult son would shout, “Yeah!” After the first few times it seemed to me that they were directing their voices at the Madden Family Cheering Section. The father and son weren’t mocking the Maddens, and their shouts weren’t aggressive, but they were crisp and targeted, as if to signal that they were going to support their starter more than the Maddens would support Ty. It was kinda sad, then, when it became clear that the Maddens weren’t paying them any attention. It was a fitting depiction of these two organizations in microcosm: The Tigers were beginning to mount their stunning surge to a Wild Card berth, and they couldn’t be bothered by the lowly Pale Hose.
The two Sox fans were interrupted by a beer vendor who was using the heat index as his sales pitch. “Miller Lite! Modelo! Water!” he hawked, sounding remarkably similar to the actor John C. Reilly. “Hey, let’s stay hydrated here!” One Madden family friend flagged him down for a Modelo as Martin struck out Matt Vierling to retire the Tigers in order in the third.
Madden worked into trouble again in the third, allowing a leadoff single to Chicago nine-hitter Brooks Baldwin, who swiped second, before walking Nicky Lopez. First and second, nobody out, Luis Robert Jr. at the plate. Welcome to the big leagues, kid.
Madden’s family and friends got louder. He said after the game that he’d blocked them out so he could stay focused, but that didn’t make any difference to them. They were behind him, no matter what. He buckled down; Robert grounded into a 6-5 fielder’s choice and Andrew Benintendi popped out. He wasn’t out of the inning yet, though. The next batter, Vaughn, blooped a four-seamer off the plate inside to right field. Vierling came up firing to home, but catcher Dillon Dingler — elite name — whiffed at the one-hopper as he tried to sweep-tag Lopez and the ball got past him. Madden was backing up, but he couldn’t field the errant throw either. Robert advanced to third and Vaughn moved up to second on the error.
The inning could’ve spiraled from there, but Madden refused to unravel. He missed low with a first-pitch changeup to Sheets, evened the count with a four-seamer that Sheets took for a called strike, and then got Sheets to swing over a tight slider dotted on the low-outside corner. His 1-2 offering was another slider that looked just like the previous one out of his hand and for most of its trajectory to the plate. Sheets took a healthy hack but came up empty as the bottom completely dropped out of the pitch. It was Madden’s first major league strikeout. His friends and family exploded, their cheers so propulsive it was as if they were daring him to look up at them, but he never did. He was locked in.
“Yeah, well, he still gave up a run,” the adult son behind me said loudly. He got no response and didn’t heckle the Maddens again, but that wasn’t the last we heard from him. In the bottom of the fourth, when once again Sosa was batting with Fletcher on first and one out, a foul ball went over my head and bounced off a stadium usher’s butt. “He got hit in the ass! He got hit in the ass!” jeered the son. The usher was fine. As was Madden, who got Sosa to pop out and then struck out Baldwin to end the inning.
Things got interesting with two outs in the top of the fifth, when Kerry Carpenter and Vierling singled to put runners on the corners and bring Keith to the plate. A three-run homer would give the Tigers the lead, and if Madden made it cleanly through the fifth and the bullpen closed things out, he would earn the win. Sitting there with his family and friends, I realized I was hoping for this exact scenario to happen. How weird it was for me, the associate editor of FanGraphs, to be rooting for a pitcher win. But I knew it would matter to everyone in the Madden Family Cheering Section. Beyond the fact that it would make this a better story to write if he were to win his big league debut, I felt a strange sense of loyalty toward these people, even though I had not yet introduced myself to them.
Alas, it was not meant to be. Keith didn’t blast a go-ahead dinger, but he did line a single into shallow left to drive in Detroit’s first run. Vierling went first to third on the knock, and Keith advanced to second on Benintendi’s late throw to third. Jace Jung came up with the chance to give the Tigers the lead with a base hit, but he struck out swinging. The inning was over, the White Sox were leading 2-1, and Madden was still in line for the loss.
The tension ratcheted up in the home half of the frame when Madden issued a two-out walk to Benintendi. He’d just thrown his 86th pitch, and I feared manager A.J. Hinch would go to the bullpen instead of letting Madden face Vaughn, who’d driven in both White Sox runs, for a third time. But Hinch stuck with his young righty, who rewarded his manager’s faith by getting Vaughn to pop out on a first-pitch cutter. The Madden Family Cheering Section, correctly assuming that was Madden’s last pitch, gave him a standing ovation. Once again, he didn’t hear them and kept his eyes straight ahead. He was in his element, and they wouldn’t have had it any other way.
The Maddens couldn’t exhale yet. Because the Tigers didn’t go to their bullpen in the fifth, Madden technically was still in the game, and if they took the lead here, he would be the pitcher of record. Spencer Torkelson doubled to lead off the sixth, but the next three batters went down in order. Madden’s night was over. His final line: 5 IP, 4 H, 2 R, 1 ER, 3 BB, 2 K.
Around this time, I introduced myself to the women sitting in front of me, who were friends of Madden’s mom. One of them told me they learned that Madden was getting promoted two days earlier, shortly after Madden got the news and phoned his parents — Brian and Misty — back home in Houston. His parents quickly assembled the members of the Madden Family Cheering Section, which they estimated to include 50 people, though none of them knew the exact number without taking a headcount. Many of them flew up from Houston for an eventful week that would only begin with Madden’s debut. The same woman said her daughter was getting married back home on Sunday, so the Madden Family Cheering Section would trade in their Tigers caps for their best suits or dresses and all be together again that coming weekend.
The Bally Sports Detroit crew came over to interview Brian, Misty, and Ty’s wife Breton, who was holding their sleeping three-month-old daughter Miller, live on the broadcast during the bottom of the sixth. While that was happening, Misty’s friend told me that the next day Brian and Misty would go to Toledo to help Breton with the move to Detroit. Madden told me after the game that the next day was also Breton’s birthday, so his parents would be with her for it while he was with the team for a home game against the Angels.
When Parker Meadows led off the seventh with a game-tying home run, a man in the Madden Family Cheering Section proclaimed, “No decision! That’s a no decision baby!” I never expected a no decision to stir such passion from a person; after all, the only thing more inherently neutral than a no decision is Switzerland. But I, too, was thrilled to see Meadows even the score and get Madden off the hook. The happiest man in Chicago then turned and gave me a thumbs up. I smiled and responded in kind.
The Tigers scored four more runs that inning and held on for a 6-3 win to sweep the White Sox, bringing their record to 66-66. The series feels like a turning point for their season; Madden is the last Detroit pitcher to start a game while his team had a losing record. Sure, that’s a specific bit of trivia that doesn’t really matter much, and yes, he has played a minor role for these Tigers, but he has played that role well. He has pitched four times since making his debut, all as a multi-inning reliever in games that Detroit used an opener. Across 23 innings, he has a 4.30 ERA and a 3.99 FIP, good for 0.2 WAR. He is a solid depth bullpen arm and swingman, and pitching-first teams like the Tigers need guys like that.
Now, five weeks after his debut, Madden has earned a spot on the Tigers’ roster for the AL Wild Card Series against the Astros in Houston, Madden’s hometown. His career, like his team’s competitive window, is just beginning, and we don’t know how long either will last. No matter what happens, whenever I see or hear his name, I’ll remember that gross, barely bearable August night in Chicago, when I sat in the Madden Family Cheering Section and watched him fulfill his dream of becoming a major league pitcher. That was as good a reason as any to be there.
