Phil Coke has been a relief for Tigers

• Manager Jim Leyland has used Phil Coke in a closer's role after Jose Valverde blew two leads
• Phil Coke says 'way I'm throwing is awesome'
• Reliever studied film, changed hand positions in effort to control his pitches

DETROIT -- Phil Coke had a message for Jim Leyland when the Tigers manager handed him the ball in the ninth inning Tuesday night at Comerica Park.

"See you after the game, boss," Coke told him.

A month earlier the Tigers' reliever couldn't get anybody out. Yet here he was facing the New York Yankees, two outs from a 3-0 lead in the American League Championship Series.

He didn't want to think about how he got here or why his manager was inserting him into the ninth inning of a playoff game and asking him to perform a role he hadn't all season.

"It's a blessing," Coke said, "with all the craziness (of the playoffs), to be able to throw the way I'm throwing is awesome. So I'm not questioning anything."

Coke thinks of himself as kind of a baseball muse — a left-handed, right-brain-dominated thinker.

"This makes me ... artistic," Coke explained, "at least that is what the scientists say."

Unpredictable and quotable, the pitcher stood for nearly 30 minutes after Tuesday's game discussing his latest incarnation — sort-of-closer.

He smiled. He joked. He laughed. He answered questions with questions. He embraced the extra attention just as he has embraced the pressure of trying to close out the Yankees. Twice in this series, he's gotten the final out, helping Leyland navigate the late innings despite being unable to use his regular closer, Jose Valverde.

Valverde struggled down the stretch of the regular season. He blew a ninth-inning lead in Game 4 against the Oakland Athletics in the AL Division Series and then did it again in Game 1 against the Yankees.

That second collapse forced Leyland to remove Valverde from the closer's role — at least temporarily. Coke slipped in.

Leyland said he doesn't have a set closer right now. Coke insists that title still belongs to Valverde. Such language is understandable. Maintaining the psychological balance of a relief pitcher or, for that matter, a bullpen, is a delicate thing.

This helps explain why Coke doesn't want to delve too deeply about the last week. He just wants to throw. And think about where he wants to throw it.

"When it comes out of my hand if it goes there, I'm happy," he said.

Coke had no idea where his fastball was going at times this season. He tweaked his delivery, adjusted his hands, studied film and spent hours breaking down his motion with pitching coach Jeff Jones.

Finally, he began to trust the effort.

"I decided that all the work I put in, trying to get myself figured out was well worth it," he said.

That unpredictable fastball — which can reach 95 mph — started hitting the catcher's mitt where he had intended. Once he began controlling the fastball, he could move it from one side of the plate to the other, up and down the zone.

This, in turn, allowed him to mix in his slider more effectively, a nasty, sinking, mid-80s breaking ball that — at its best — can fool hitters into guessing fastball as it drops off a shelf through the strike zone. Yet the pitch doesn't work if Coke can't throw his fastball for a strike because hitters aren't as likely to chase it if they are ahead in the count.

In the season's final weeks, Coke could feel the fastball coming out of his hand in a way that made sense. He was finally throwing more strikes.