On Detroit Lions game day, Eastern Market is akin to St. Peter's Basilica, with thousands of the Honolulu Blue faithful making the pilgrimage downtown hours before game time — for most MANY hours before game time — for revelry and game analysis that would rival anything in the cornucopia of sports media.
Yes, there is alcohol. Yes, there are arguments — usually about draft picks, game planning and occasionally over a favored tailgating spot. But it's all in good fun, collegial and usually without anything more than raised voices and the rare fisticuffs.
For the most part, Eastern Market is hallowed ground.
LIons fans from Detroit, the suburbs, outstate, out of state and Canada; young and old; able-bodied and disabled; all ethnicities, creeds, races, religions ... you get the idea. And, for decades, we have all gotten along. Because, at the tailgate, the only differences worth raising your voice for longer than it takes to down a beer and a brat is if you are wearing the other team's jersey, or you have no home team paraphernalia of your own. Once, one of our longtime tailgate family "accidentally" wore a purple polo on game day when the Lions just happened to be playing a certain team from Minnesota. Let's just say we all reminded him of his fashion slip. Mercilessly. Even after the game. And we have reminded him to not let it happen again. Ever.
My buddies and I were invited to join this tailgate family years ago. We're all longtime season ticket holders and we sat in the same section, in successive rows. So, we got to know each other over the years from high-fiving after each big play, commiserating over bad plays, buying each other beverages and sharing in our collective love for our team. Even when some of the fam "moved on up" and moved down to rows closer to the field, our tailgating collective remained strong: We still gather early on game day, tailgate together, ride to the stadium together and come back to our usual gathering spot together. We even have a huge Thanksgiving feast each year before the game and go home to have what I like to call "Second Thanksgiving" dinner with our regular family.
That's how it is for most of the tailgate regulars at Eastern Market. Each football Sunday is like coming to a family reunion or church: You see a lot of the same folks, a few new folks pop up when the team is doing well, and some folks disappear for long stretches when the Lions are not doing so well. But the true Honolulu Blue faithful are like the elders — always there, always hoping, always cheering and always sharing.
But Sunday felt different.
Our tailgate family has gathered religiously, no matter the weather, behind the Detroit Fire Department Apparatus Division garage (repair shop), for many years. Each game day we grill, we chill, we laugh, we debate and we make new friends. We always feed the hardworking men and women from the Fire Department, paramedics and EMTs, and police officers from Detroit, Wayne County and Michigan State Police who regularly patrol the area. Hell, we even give food to the regular cab drivers who cruise Riopelle looking for fares heading to Ford Field. We are of various ages, races, backgrounds and professions. Our spot is only about a half block away from the site of the tragic shooting that claimed the lives of two men (one died Sunday, the other on Monday) outside in Shed 6.
So we were shocked to hear that someone — anyone — would dare desecrate the sanctity of the market tailgate.
But if I'm being honest, Sunday felt different. And a few of us voiced that early Sunday morning.
Because we're one of the "old families" on the block, we notice when new folks move in or strangers show up. And with the Lions suddenly becoming the new darlings of the NFL, thanks to their great play of late, we noticed the throngs of new faces that lined Riopelle, from Erskine all the way south to I-375 and Gratiot. New RVs lined up to get a parking spot or into the parking lot outside Shed 5, new groups of canopy-pitching fans clad in silver and blue, grills billowing and music playing.
We're all used to seeing larger-than-usual crowds in the market area at the beginning of the season, especially the last two seasons. The first two, three games always bring out the hopefuls and the warmer weather tends to bring out more of the people who just want to see and be seen and party, game be damned. And so it was Sunday.
"It's a whole different crowd, a different environment," Shanita Williams, a retired Wayne County Sheriff's officer who is one of the charter members of our tailgate family said with raised brows and a tone of concern. Several of us nodded in agreement and with the same "um-hmm" look as we surveyed those milling up and down the block.
But we were there to celebrate the Lions and Shanita's late husband, Frank Williams, who was a Detroit Fire captain who died of complications from COVID -19 back in the spring of 2020 — one of Detroit's earliest casualties of the pandemic. Sunday was Frank's birthday and we all raised a glass/can/bottle/red Solo cup in his honor. We chalked up the "new neighbors" to the new season — following a season where we were only one quarter away from going to the Super Bowl. With more people jumping on the bandwagon, we expected to see new fans, or at least fans new to tailgating at Eastern Market.
And there were A LOT of them! The whole area around Eastern Market was jammed for the Lions first game of the season, a primetime win against the Los Angeles Rams in week 1. To our surprise, the crowds around the market area seemed even bigger Sunday for week 2. And we didn't think that was possible.
And while we anticipated some growing pains, new tailgaters infringing on the spaces typically used by long-timers — call it tailgate gentrification — we never expected any real trouble, definitely not gunfire. That's just not how we roll at the tailgates, people!
As we found our way back to our tailgating spot — that's where we left our cars — after the Lions lost a heartbreaker to the Tampa Bay Bucs, a few of us hung around for a bit for a consolation cocktail. We chatted briefly, then I and my gamebro Grayling "Deacon" Mercer started to walk to our vehicles. As we were walking, a young woman walking by was mentioning the tough loss and said "We'll get'em next time," then mentioned "I heard someone was shooting down there," before continuing her stroll up Riopelle. Grayling and I looked at each other, looked down Riopelle toward the market to see if we could see any commotion, then looked at each other again, puzzled, because we didn't hear anything and there was none of the telltale signs, namely a large group of people running in our direction like something bad had just happened.
Music was still bouncing off the walls of the fire department garage, people were still grilling, partying and having a good time. It wasn't until I was heading south on Orleans, at the intersection of Wilkins, that I saw a DPD squad car come racing by with lights flashing followed by an ambulance, that I realized that something must have really happened.
My phone rang shortly afterward. It was Big Ma. She was calling to check on me because she saw on the TV that someone was shooting down at Eastern Market and she knew that was where I always tailgate. When I got home, I started looking online to see what I could find out. I was curious. I was worried. I was mad. I was sad.
We have a text group for our tailgate family, so I immediately sent a group text to make sure the members of the family who were still there when I left were OK. They were. Thank God.
But, admittedly, we all are a bit shaken. Still.
Someone came into our sanctuary, reportedly took the L in a fistfight, then came back with a gun. It still doesn't make sense to me. Like I said, this is hallowed ground. We know the regulars, the first responders, the workers at Eastern Market, even the cab drivers. We are family — even the distant cousins. We may not know everyone's name, but we know them by the outfits they regularly wear, the spaces they usually tailgate, the paraphernalia that typically adorns their tailgate area. And it's all love.
Like the survivors of a crazed gunman that invades a school, or a church, or a shopping center, we never expected anyone to so violently shatter our sense of safety and community: Especially not when we are surrounded by so many police officers and other first responders — our extended family.
No one should lose their life over barbeque or music, or whatever else the rumors swirling around the cause of the deadly fight are saying.
"I've been tailgating for 24 years — two years at the Silverdome and the rest downtown — and I've never heard of anyone getting killed," Williams said incredulously. "And for what? It's disgusting that people can't just have a good time or a disagreement without violence. It's just sad. I feel bad for the people who died, they seemed like they were just cool folks having a good time. I pray for their families.
"And what's sad, too, is now the city will probably have to crack down and take away something that has been so nice and so much fun for everybody for years ... all because of the actions of one person who couldn't take a whoopin' and messed it all up."
But something tells me, while we rightfully mourn today, we will grow stronger in the days and games to come. "The Family" of tailgaters is too strong; the bonds forged over years too tight; and the community of Lions fans too determined to come to an absolute end.
I expect a more "regulated" tailgating experience when the Lions come back for their next home game on Sept. 30. Perhaps our group, like others, will be a bit more cautious when we see the "new neighbors." Some folks may look over their shoulder a bit more. And we all will be more protective of our respective groups and collective community.
But I expect the more carefree sense of community to return, eventually. Sports is the great healer, right? It brings us all together, no matter our differences. I pray that old adage proves true, because no one wants to tailgate in a figurative house with bars on the windows.
And no one should have to die celebrating a team and a game.
Contact James G. Hill: jghill@freepress.com
This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Our Eastern Market tailgate spot is hallowed ground. Senseless violence messed that up.
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