Three years ago, Jim Leyland took a whiff of the 2006 Tigers and declared “We smell like Old Spice.”
        The people who make Old Spice read the papers and immediately phoned Leyland to complain. They didn’t want to be compared to a baseball team that hadn’t enjoyed a winning season in 13 years.
        But Leyland wasn’t slamming the product. As he explained to the irate after-shave exec, he himself had used Old Spice for years.
        He liked the smell. It was nice. That was the problem.
        It smelled familiar. It smelled comfortable. It smelled complacent.
        And that can be the kiss of death for a baseball team.
        Leyland prefers players who smell like sweaty socks. Players with dirt on the pants. Players who will run through a wall, or an outfield fence, to win.
        Seldom has baseball meant more to fans in Detroit, in Oakland County, and throughout the state, than it did this year. 
        Leyland knew that.
        He could sense it. He could feel it. He could understand it.
        Leyland makes $4 million a year. And he has the comfort of a guaranteed contract that will carry him through 2011.
        But the Tigers’ manager knows from first-hand experience, earlier in his life and his baseball career, what it means to punch a clock, to live from paycheck to paycheck, to have to worry each week about  balancing the checkbook.
        Behind that grumpy exterior and that cloud of cigarette smoke, beats the heart of a real softy.
        Leyland can feel people’s pain, particularly in these tough times.
        That was one reason he so wanted to deliver a postseason appearance to Tiger fans.
        “My dad was a factory worker,” Leyland said. “He worked at a glass factory that made windshields for General Motors products. I worked at that factory myself. There’s not much more we can do but give a good effort, bust our tails for them and show our appreciation. It’s tough.
        “My heart aches for these people up here. They’re trying to feed their families, and we’re getting a check every two weeks. We’re certainly glad that we are, but we’re certainly aware of the people that aren’t right now. You do whatever you can to help. I mean, I’ve got family members out of work over the recession, so I know what it’s like. You just hope that they understand that you have a great appreciation for what they’re going through.”
        It’s a two-way street. Leyland and his players said they felt an obligation to play hard because of the people who showed up at Comerica Park in remarkable numbers this summer. And those people turned out, in spite of the economy, because of the way the Tigers were playing
        Off the record --  way off the record as Leyland likes to say --  I wonder what he smells now.