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Wherever he went, when Jose was around it was always "Lima Time"
I happened to be in the Tigers' clubhouse last Tuesday when Ramon Santiago walked in, appropriately dressed for the team's upcoming trip to the West Coast, wearing a snazzy dark suit.
"Jose Lima bought this suit for me," Santiago explained proudly, after I had extended my compliments on his outfit.
"He told me I had to dress like a big leaguer.
"When we went on a road trip (in 2002), he bought me five suits. He was like a father to me," Santiago added.
Lima, I should point out, was a fading veteran making $7.25 million in '02. He was the second-highest paid Tiger behind Dean Palmer ($8 million). Santiago, meanwhile, was a rookie making the major league minimum $200,000
I didn't think much more about it at the time-- except for the fact that suit now has to be eight years old. And it still looks brand new. Obviously, Santiago doesn't get dressed up a lot.
Then on Sunday I heard the news: Jose Lima was dead at age 37.
Along with Santiago and everyone else whose paths crossed Lima's overt the years, I was stunned.
Lima was always so full of life.
It was always "Lima Time" when Jose was around.
I remember the night Lima strutted into the Tigers' Comerica Park clubhouse for the start of his second tour of duty in Detroit. It was June 24, 2001.
" 'Lima Time' is back on track," he announced, as if trumpeting the triumphant return of a conquering hero.
In truth, the Houston Astros, the Tigers' trading partner in the deal for pitcher Dave Mlicki, had been so happy to rid themselves of Lima (1-2, 7.30 ERA), they agreed to throw in a million bucks to make up the difference in the two pitchers' salaries so that the trade wouldn't cost then budget-minded owner Mike Ilitch a dime.
In my column in The Oakland Press the next morning, I noted the fact that, while most of the other Tigers showed up for work dressed in T-shirts and blue jeans, Lima arrived wearing a wheat-colored three-piece designer suit.
"Hey, it's Versace!" the effervescent pitcher declared.
"I can't spell it, but it looks good."
Ironically, days earlier, manager Phil Garner had tried to bribe the struggling Tigers to play better by revising the team's dress code on the road to blue jeans, T-shirts, shorts and sneakers.
Lima didn't care. He always did dance to the sounds of a different drummer.
"Jose Lima bought this suit for me," Santiago explained proudly, after I had extended my compliments on his outfit.
"He told me I had to dress like a big leaguer.
"When we went on a road trip (in 2002), he bought me five suits. He was like a father to me," Santiago added.
Lima, I should point out, was a fading veteran making $7.25 million in '02. He was the second-highest paid Tiger behind Dean Palmer ($8 million). Santiago, meanwhile, was a rookie making the major league minimum $200,000
I didn't think much more about it at the time-- except for the fact that suit now has to be eight years old. And it still looks brand new. Obviously, Santiago doesn't get dressed up a lot.
Then on Sunday I heard the news: Jose Lima was dead at age 37.
Along with Santiago and everyone else whose paths crossed Lima's overt the years, I was stunned.
Lima was always so full of life.
It was always "Lima Time" when Jose was around.
I remember the night Lima strutted into the Tigers' Comerica Park clubhouse for the start of his second tour of duty in Detroit. It was June 24, 2001.
" 'Lima Time' is back on track," he announced, as if trumpeting the triumphant return of a conquering hero.
In truth, the Houston Astros, the Tigers' trading partner in the deal for pitcher Dave Mlicki, had been so happy to rid themselves of Lima (1-2, 7.30 ERA), they agreed to throw in a million bucks to make up the difference in the two pitchers' salaries so that the trade wouldn't cost then budget-minded owner Mike Ilitch a dime.
In my column in The Oakland Press the next morning, I noted the fact that, while most of the other Tigers showed up for work dressed in T-shirts and blue jeans, Lima arrived wearing a wheat-colored three-piece designer suit.
"Hey, it's Versace!" the effervescent pitcher declared.
"I can't spell it, but it looks good."
Ironically, days earlier, manager Phil Garner had tried to bribe the struggling Tigers to play better by revising the team's dress code on the road to blue jeans, T-shirts, shorts and sneakers.
Lima didn't care. He always did dance to the sounds of a different drummer.
posted by Jim Hawkins at
6:33 AM
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