Detroit Tigers fans get pictures with tiger statue at Comerica Park
Detroit Tigers fans get their picture taken with the tiger statue outside Comerica Park on April 3, 2026 for Opening Day.
To many people, it makes no sense. Here was the seventh game of a 162-game baseball season, the Detroit Tigers had lost four of the six already played, yet seemingly the entire city converged on downtown Friday, April 3, to get into the stadium, or sit outside the stadium, or just hang around the stadium.
They stuffed bars and restaurants. They drank beer despite the early hour. They wore orange or blue clothing and caps with an Old English “D.” There is no way to count how many total people swarmed the streets, or how many of them had called in sick to their jobs to be here.
SCENE AND HEARD: ‘A different atmosphere’: Tigers fans flock Detroit for Opening Day
We call it Opening Day, and in Detroit it is virtually a holiday. Not elsewhere. Other cities don’t make this fuss. To many of them, going wild for the seventh game of the season makes no sense.
And that’s OK.
In fact, it’s perfect.
Far from the only nonstandard tradition
Opening Day made me think about how many things we do around these parts that are uniquely ours, traditions that we cherish but which don’t necessarily travel.
The Dream Cruise. It began as a charity event, and is now is a fixture on the August calendar. But if you tell someone in Boston or San Diego that thousands of people sit in lawn chairs along a busy boulevard to watch old cars drive past, you’ll get laughed out of the room.
THE GAME: Dillon Dingler, Framber Valdez launch Tigers to home opener win
The Independence Day Fireworks. Yes, other cities have them. No, they don’t have them in late June. We do. Supposedly we do this because of our proximity to Canada, which celebrates on a different schedule. Of course, Canada Day is July 1, and America’s holiday is July 4, so someone should explain how June got in there.
But, hey, maybe they shouldn’t. It’s our tradition. And that’s what’s important.
Sweetest Day. Hate to break this to area lovers, but that’s not really a thing in the most of the country.
Paczki Day – yes, it’s a way to celebrate Fat Tuesday, but it’s much bigger here in the Midwest than in other regions.
The Charity Preview at the Detroit Auto Show. That’s like the Motor City’s Met Gala, but it doesn’t exist elsewhere. And auto shows in general are not the must-see events they are in our town.
Traditions like throwing octopi at hockey games, singing “born and raised in South Detroit!” chanting “Onward Down the Field” when the Lions score or yelling “DEEE-TROIT BAS-KET-BALLLLLL!” are things you will not witness anywhere else.
And it may be a hot dog everywhere else, but it’s a coney here.
If all of this makes us quirky, well, quirky we should be. Because in a world of increasing homogenization, local traditions are in peril.
A taste for tradition
Consider what the internet and multinational corporations desire. Everyone on the same page at the same time.
Apple wants the whole world to line up at a given hour for the new iPhone. Taylor Swift wants the whole world hanging on her latest release. Local coffee shops get swallowed by chains. Local eateries surrender to fast food.
As someone who travels for work, I can tell you, decades ago when you went to the South, you heard different music on the radio. You went out West, you saw different retail outlets. You felt like an outsider. You felt like you were someplace new and wondrous.
Today, Nashville looks like Austin looks like Raleigh looks like Phoenix. There’s your P.F. Chang’s next to your Cheesecake Factory. There’s your Best Buy alongside your Costco. The goal of global economies is scale, big numbers, national – even international – audiences. Everyone wants to be the Super Bowl.
But what of the joy of regional customs? Local traditions? The food you can only get here, the music you can only hear there. As the internet shrinks our distance, it also fades our individuality.
When I was a kid in Philadelphia, they had a parade every New Year’s Day, where string bands marched and people wore these crazy costumes, painted their faces, and competed in different categories. It was called the Mummers Parade, and in my youthful naivete, I thought every city did this. Later I realized it was unique to Philly, and in fact, many outsiders found it silly.
Well, as Paul McCartney sang, it isn’t silly at all. Local color shades who we are. Local activities give us a sense of identity. Local traditions bind us to our hometowns, and our shared memories with neighbors.
So we can ask “Did you go to Opening Day?” around here and people know what we mean. There’s something precious about that. In an age of everyone buying from Amazon and eating at McDonald’s, we should fiercely protect what makes us unique.
So yeah, wearing a “Trammell” jersey or telling your friends, “I’ll meet you at Mario’s before the game for the lobster buffet” may make no sense to outsiders. Good. It’s not supposed to.
Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.
