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...I didn't have the heart to ask how such a seemingly civil city could break the neighbourhood over a pair of World Series wins...

I can tell you about the '84 celebration, having witnessed it first-hand.

Though, I missed some of it because I had to wash the blood from my hand and try to stop the bleeding, due to slipping and falling off the damn light pole. I did take advantage of my being temporarily stuck in the Shell gas-station garage (where they let me use their fawcett) across from the stadium to call home. I remember my father telling me that there was a riot going on down there. I looked out the window and confirmed that, yes, there was a riot going on down here. I also said that I'd have to stay here awhile, because my car would have to cross Michigan Avenue, and I didn't want my car destroyed.

Anyway, I wonder what I could get on Ebay for eighteen-year old outfield turf and a couple of light bulbs taken from the left-field auxilliary scoreboard that night.

But, as far as I could see, the damage was limited to a few cars, and a lot of "disrespecting" of Detroit Police who were trying to end all the fun. There were no busisess that were looted or anything like that.

But, to answer your question, I guess I have no idea why fans would behave like that. I know I never would (again). I guess it's just that a few idiots can really make a big show and ruin the reputation of the whole group.

I guess it's just that a few idiots can really make a big show and ruin the reputation of the whole group.

Goes back to the syndrome we news folk (I've been a journalist for the better part of my adult life, though currently not formally employed as one) describe as, well, it's news when the plane crashes but no one wants to pick up the paper or turn on the television and hear that several million flights a week take off and land safe and sound (although, in the immediate weeks after 9/11, you can understand where it almost flipped over for awhile!). That kind of thing. For better or worse, the idiot brigades get the attention precisely because they are in the minority. Comparing the two Detroit World Series explosions, I'd have to say the 1968 eruption was probably more crowded and violent than the 1984 eruption, though I don't remember anyone overturning cars as was reported to have happened in '84. And, dearly though I love the Chicago Cubs' endearing mystique of the long dark hours of failure, and long-enough-time Red Sox fan though I have been, I'm almost half afraid of what would happen if the Cubs or the Red Sox should win a World Series again - or, better yet, if they should play each other in the Series and one (as must happen) wins.

Apparently, it isn't always the celebrating fans who are ready to trash the joint. When the Cubs beat the Tigers to win the 1906 World Series (yep, you can look it up - the Cubs), Cub pitching ace Three-Finger Brown would remember the club practically needing a police escort to get out of town alive. And, of course, recent memory instructs about the all-but-riot that broke out in Los Angeles after the Lakers won the first of their current three straight NBA titles. (It probably wasn't half as bad as people saw in news reports, but like you said - the idiot brigades live...)

Which reminds me of how some hemmed, hawed, and harrumphed when Shea Stadium fans exploded into bedlam on the field after the 1969 Miracle Mets nailed that Series against Baltimore. The hem-haw-harrumphers forgot that the worst those fans did was turn the playing field into the survivors of a close-air-support bombing raid (there's a famous picture of Met pitchers Tom Seaver and Gary Gentry walking across the field after the crowd was gone at last, still in their uniforms, surveying the damage) - but New York City itself went unscathed. And the ticker-tape parade bestowed upon the Mets was a crowd crunch but almost nothing more.

I have also read where Brooklyn went apesh@t following the Dodgers' only World Series triumph there (in 1955) but that the only untoward thing that happened was the shooting of a Dodger fan in a Brooklyn tavern by a visiting Yankee fan (who admitted he couldn't bear the thought of his Yankees losing even one Series to them Bums), but otherwise Brooklyn was one loud and crazy party with nothing destructive.