The Jays are heading into Detroit with Vladdy swinging hot and our boys ready to show those Tigers what real baseball looks like, eh?

The score is tied 0-0 in the first inning and I'm already preparing my "wait 'til next year" speech because that's just peak Blue Jays baseball right there.

One run in the first has me cautiously sipping my double-double because we all know how this movie ends, but maybe Vladdy and Bo finally learned how to hit with runners in scoring position.

Two runs up in the first against Detroit has me feeling as confident as a Canadian apologizing for winning - this is our night, eh.

Two runs up in Detroit with our boys swinging hot bats - this coffee tastes like championship dreams brewing again.

With Vladdy and Bo finally clicking and a two-run cushion in Detroit, this feels like the kind of road game that separates contenders from pretenders - and tonight we're channeling those '93 champions.

With Vladdy swinging hot and Detroit looking colder than a Winnipeg winter, this 4-0 lead feels as solid as the CN Tower –.

Four runs up against Detroit in the fourth is practically a mercy rule situation for a team that's been playing like they forgot baseball was invented, so I'm cautiously optimistic while clutching my Tim Hortons and muttering "please don't Blue Jays this" under my breath.

Four runs up through five against Detroit feels as comfortable as a warm toque in January, and with Vladdy locked in like this, we're cruising to another W, eh.

Four runs up in Detroit with three innings left feels as solid as a Vlady bomb until I remember we're the Jays and somehow we'll find a way to make this interesting.

Four runs up in the seventh against Detroit should be enough even for this team that's mastered the art of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, but with Vladdy and Bo finally looking like the superstars we've been waiting for since '93, I'm feeling cautiously optimistic with my double-double getting cold.

Four runs up in the eighth against Detroit and I'm still bracing for the inevitable heartbreak because being a Jays fan means never feeling safe until the champagne is flowing, eh.

With a three-run lead in the ninth and my lucky Timmy's mug steaming beside me, even the Jays can't blow this one against a Tigers team that's been deader than a Canadian winter.

Skubal's dealing at Comerica and I've learned not to expect miracles but also not to bet against a pitcher who throws like he's still angry about 2012.

Look, when you've watched this team snatch defeat from the jaws of victory more times than Cabrera hit doubles down the line, a 0-0 tie in the first feels like we're already behind, but Skubal's on the mound and hope dies hard in Motown.

One run down in the first against Toronto is like being down by a touchdown in the fourth quarter - plenty of time for heartbreak but also plenty of time for hope, and with Skubal on the mound I'm choosing hope tonight.

Two runs down in the first inning is just Detroit warming up the comeback engine we've been installing for the past decade.

Two runs down in the second is nothing when you've survived a decade of disappointment and know this team has finally learned how to fight back.

After watching this team break my heart for over a decade, I've learned that being down 2-0 in the third is just Detroit setting up for either a beautiful comeback or a soul-crushing late collapse, and honestly, my therapist says I need to start believing in good things again.

Down 4-0 in the third feels like déjà vu from the wilderness years, but this rebuilt lineup has that quiet confidence I'm still learning to trust again.

Four runs down in the fourth is just another Tuesday for a fanbase that watched us blow a 2-0 World Series lead, so yeah, we'll probably mount some miraculous comeback just to lose in the ninth because that's peak Tigers baseball.

Four runs down feels like four decades of heartbreak, but Skubal's given me just enough hope to believe this lineup can still find their bats before the ninth inning mercy-kills my optimism.

Four runs down in the sixth feels like watching the same old Tigers movie, except now I'm supposed to believe the sequel will be better because we have one actual starter who doesn't make me want to throw my Miggy jersey at the TV.

Four runs down in the seventh is exactly the kind of hole that builds character for next season.

Four runs down in the 8th is exactly the kind of deficit that builds character for next season.

After watching this team snatch defeat from the jaws of victory more times than I care to remember, a three-run deficit in the ninth feels like asking a broken heart to love again.