Time to light that halo up, Halloween style. Forget the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. It’s the 2011 AL West MVG – Most Valuable Gourd!
From the first two outs (*sigh* I want a Molina brother behind the plate again! And, wow! It’s a flying Super Carpenter!) Game 1 did not disappoint. I find that while I have less team specific passion for the game when I don’t have a team in the mix, if the game is a good one my overall baseball fan passion is still thoroughly indulged. And, hey, my temporarily-adopted-strictly-for-the-month-of-October team won! Keep it going Cardinals!
But as much as I enjoyed this game, it only served to underscore the fact that there is someone I am missing. Missing terribly. We take a lot of breaks in our relationship, and this is just one more scheduled break, so I shouldn’t be so mopey about it. But it…well…it’s just that baseball is so much our thing that it’s impossible to enjoy a game like this without feeling like something is missing.
It doesn’t help that everywhere I turn these last few weeks there are the inevitable relationship reminders:
When I turn on the TV:
When I do the laundry:
When I leave for work in the morning:
Heck, even when I pay my bills!:
You’re on my car:
You’re in my living room:
Apparently you’re even still lurking in my husband’s pockets:
Oh Angels baseball! I’m used to the long winters apart but why’d you have to leave me so early two years in a row?! I understand. I do. You need to rest. Regroup. Recover. Think about something completely non-baseball related for awhile.
I know it will be different in the spring. You’ll be more attentive. More involved and into the relationship with me and all of the other women and men in your life for the entire season. And we won’t, any of us, have to take a relationship break until the end of October!!
It’s okay, Angels Baseball. You don’t have to respond. We all know this is what you want too.
English is a quirky, hodgepodge of a language. Words that sound quite similar can and frequently do have radically different meanings. Here at TIAVSG, we are all about education and the joy of learning. So allow me to explore this concept a little further with a completely random example. Clearly, this post has nothing whatsoever to do with Angels baseball and certainly nothing to do with Angels baseball over, say, their last road trip or last night or anything like that.Exciting Adjective Producing great enthusiasm and eagerness; thrilling, exhilarating, stimulating Exasperating Adjective Intensely irritating; infuriating
See how these two words sound deceptively similar with their identical beginnings and endings, yet are so different in their meaning that one would probably use them to describe opposite situations. Just in case, let’s try using them sentences, shall we, so their meaning is absolutely clear. Again, I have pulled these example sentences completely out of thin air. This post has nothing to do with Angels baseball. We’re all about education today.
Tie baseball games are exciting! Errors and bad plays are exasperating.
Hitting a homerun is exciting! Giving up a lead is exasperating.
Baseball games that go into extra innings are exciting! Baseball games that go into extra innings because of errors and bad plays are exasperating.
Getting a chance to move ahead in two sets of standings is extremely exciting!! Getting a chance to move ahead in two sets of standings and blowing it is extremely exasperating.
Hopefully these examples have been educational and clear up a few things about yet another quirky nuance of the English language for anyone who could benefit from the refresher…For example, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. What? Just because this post has nothing to do with the Angels doesn’t mean they can’t learn something from it.
Although, now that I just happened to bring the Angels up – fancy that! – I am heading to the ballpark this evening which is always exciting, no matter where your team is in the standings. Here’s hoping that the Halos can make this game and the rest of the home stand, very exciting indeed!!
So, is one’s team having 0 control over their own destiny from this point forward because they don’t play any of the wild card teams again and only play Texas three times when they’re five games out with only six left to go, exciting or exasperating? A little of column A, a little of column B actually. Which column does it lean towards more heavily? Let me get back to you on that one in a few days.
Love it or hate it, baseball and heckling have always gone hand in hand. In fact, if I may wax William Goldman-ish for a moment, when the very first pitcher climbed up onto the first pitcher’s mound and gave up the very first bases clearing double to the first clutch hitter, the first baseball fans were all present, and they heckled him.
But just because heckling is part of the baseball tradition doesn’t mean you can head on down to the ballpark and just start shouting any old thing you’d like. I mean, there are rules against that sort of thing! Okay, so they’re more like guidelines really. But remember, ‘tis a fine, fine line between entertaining and obnoxious. So, as we head down the final stretch of the season and into the playoffs and fan passions run hotter every day, I think a review of these guidelines is in order. Surely none of the fine folks at MLBlogs need the review themselves, but we all know someone who does…so if you are reading this because someone anonymously sent you a link…or printed it out and left it on your chair, well, you might want to take notes.
1) Know Your Strengths and Weaknesses. Personally, I don’t often participate in heckling. Not because I have anything against heckling when it’s done well, mind you, but because I know that my wit, such as it is, is only quick around friends. Family. Coworkers. Basically in relaxed situations. If, like me, you are the kind of person who will usually come up with the perfect snappy comeback to any confrontation…fifteen to twenty minutes after the fact…then please join me in appreciating the fanly art of heckling as strictly a spectator sport. Your section mates and your baseball buddies will thank you.
2) Brevity. Show of hands. How many of you have suffered through a game painfully within earshot of some fool delivering an oral dissertation to the opposing team? Lame and annoying, right? Even if he or she is on your side. And it’s not like the players they’re attempting to heckle are even going to follow the whole essay when they’re trying to play the game. So what it lacks in entertainment value, it completely makes up for by being pointless. Save the lengthy commentary for blog posts.
3) KISS (Keep it Simple Stupid). Brief taunts can be equally obnoxious and pointless if they are overly complicated or just plain stupid. For example, at the double header in Oakland we sat near an Angels fan who had special things he would shout for each As player. “CoCo likes to start fights in Boston!!” “Jackson? More like all jacked up!” “Suck it Powell, you aren’t catching perfection anymore!” And after each new “gem” he would turn to the all of the fans nearby and explain his taunt to us. “See, this one’s funny because Landon Powell caught Dallas Braden’s perfect game and he’s not catching Dallas Braden today.” Ummm. No dude. It’s still not funny. Nothing will make it funny. It got to the point where the rest of the Angels fans in the section were telling him to shut up. So, a few good rules of thumb here: if your fellow fans are moved to mock you and especially if your brand of heckling requires footnotes? Don’t. Just don’t.
4) Simple does not have to mean uncreative. Ubiquitous “(Player Name of Choice), you suuuuuuuuuck!” guy or gal, I’m looking at you. Yes, you have met the basic requirements of brevity and simplicity but, trust me, if this is all you’re shouting all game long, you’ve sailed right over that fine, fine line and deep into obnoxious on sheer monotony alone. Mix it up a little from time to time, or at least give it rest for a few batters and your section mates, even those rooting for your team, will thank you.
At the double header in Oakland, we had the You Suuuuuuuck guy sitting right across the aisle from us. “Torii Hunter, you suuuuuuuuck!” “Santana, you suuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” And he never shut up for longer than the space of a breath. For. Five. Innings. Mind you, he didn’t do this during the first game, when the Angels won. Or during the first few innings of the second game when the Angels were ahead. And I was getting so sick of him that I was on the verge of pointing this out, when he made me laugh. You’ve no doubt heard about the huge seagull problem at the Coliseum and AT&T Park? Huge flocks of them descend in the last few innings of games, take over sections of seats and menace fans. Well, the You Suuuuuuuuuck guy suddenly shouted “Would you hurry up and beat these guys already?! The seagulls are hooongry!!” and pretty much the entire section, Angels and As fans alike, burst out laughing and he seemed a lot less obnoxious after that…I also think he toned it down a little after that, but there’s still a good lesson there.
5) Keep it clean, baseball is a family game. Just because it’s 2011 and the large number of kids in the stands might be able to give you a decent four letter word vocabulary lesson, doesn’t mean you need to contribute to their long list of bad examples. A lot of adults don’t want to hear it either. The F-bomb may in fact be the hardest working little multi-tasker in the English language, but even the little black dress is not appropriate for every occasion.
I’m not suggesting that you need to keep it as clean as they apparently do down south. A friend of mine who went to a few college ball games in N’awlins actually witnessed fans heckling the umpire thusly. “Excuse me, Mr. Umpire? Does your wife know you’re screwing us, sir?” But still, you have to admit there is a certain level of awesome there.
And, last but certainly not least:
6) Kindly remember that no one, not even members of your own party paid to come to the ballpark to listen to you heckle. Hecklers can be a very entertaining part of the game, but a little goes a long way. True masters of the art of heckling should consider themselves to be salt…or perhaps I should use a spicier analogy? Vulcan fire salt perhaps? The point is your purpose is to accent the game, not to take it over. Do not block other fans’ view of the game. Do not keep up such a constant stream of dialog that you keep other fans from enjoying the game…especially if their team is already doing that for you. Otherwise, seriously, you are no better than the jackass in the obviously brand spanking new team shirt…and hat…and jacket jumping up and down and screaming at everyone to do the wave. And no one wants to be that guy, right?
- From a baseball standpoint, Saturday and Sunday were as heartening as Friday was disappointing. Outside of baseball, the whole weekend rocked. I didn’t bring a single project home from work this weekend. Go team, me! Okay, I work from home for half the week so, technically, I didn’t bring a single project out of my computer bag for the weekend, but you get the general idea.
- Jered Weaver, fresh off the plane from his grandfather’s funeral in Oregon (My sincere condolences on your loss. Losing a grandparent is extremely difficult and the bruise on your heart may fade, but never leaves.) worked his heart out on the mound for five innings on Saturday but his control was, understandably, far from his usual precision. It was a thing of beauty to see the rest of the team, offense, defense and bullpen alike, pick him up and get Jered the win. It was an ugly win to be sure, but the guy’s had so many pretty losses that he more than deserved this.
- Food Truck Wars alumni Nom Nom Truck, Grill ‘Em All and the Grilled Cheese Truck too? Believe the hype, they really are worth spending 45 minutes in line. They fact that in doing so we also contributed to a fundraiser for the local high school band? Pretty cool way to kill a Saturday afternoon.
- Joel Pineiro looked amazingly like…well…Joel Pineiro on Sunday and I cannot tell you how gratifying it was to see that. My hat’s off to him for working his way through his troubles with such a good attitude and I hope this is a sign that his rough times are over.
- Holy Angels offense, Batman! Torii and Aybar and Trumbombs. Oh. My! Not to mention hard, clutch knocks from Bourjos, Callaspo, Conger and Wells! Keep it up, gentlemen. This is how we win ballgames.
- With 25 homeruns to his name, Mark Trumbo is getting closer to matching and perhaps surpassing Tim Salmon’s franchise rookie homerun record of 31 from 1993. Whether or not he gets there, that’s pretty darned slick. Go Trumbo!
- As distasteful as it was, I actually rooted for the Red Sox this weekend…which is probably why they lost. Stinky Red Sox. Hmmm. Do you think they know that my love was merely a matter of temporary convenience? *nods* It’s the only rational explanation.
- While my husband tends to see the Aybar as half Gilligan (serious props to True Grich for the all too often spot-on nickname), I tend to see the Aybar as half highlight reel. But there’s no denying he could go either way in a given game. Flip a coin.
- Midnight Vineyards Malbec is an excellent tater tots wine…yeah, I cracked up typing that too, hear me out. Inspired by our food truck adventures, we made gourmet burgers on Sunday, topped with blue cheese, mounds of sautéed mushrooms and a veritable tossed salad of baby greens, red onions and balsamic vinaigrette. We paired it with tater tots accompanied by curry ketchup and siricha ketchup dipping sauces. So this was a wine worthy meal…that also happened to prove the truth of the initial statement.
- I’m going to the game on Monday! It’s the perfect way to cap off the last weekend of summer. And I wound up getting field box seats so cheaply, I’m almost embarrassed. Thanks guys, but this better just be just a holiday weekend vacation thing, because although my last post is still true and this will take work and luck, we’re still in this!
A good friend wanted to celebrate her birthday in style this weekend, so she got the lot of us passes to the Magic Castle on Saturday. I know what you’re thinking – cheesy fortune tellers and kid’s birthday party tricks. I thought as much myself before I went the first time, but the reality is quite different. Housed in a gorgeous pre-World War I era mansion tucked into the Hollywood Hills, the Magic Castle is the headquarters for the Academy of Magical Arts and a truly decadent private club. A luxurious setting, an elegant meal, cocktail servers who never let your glass go empty if you let them, and the magicians, wow! My favorite part of all of it is the close-up rooms – card tricks, coin tricks, ring magic, rope tricks and the like all performed to perfection mere feet away. The magician might as well be sitting on the other side of the dining room table from you if you are lucky enough to sit in the front row.
There aren’t very many new tricks in the world really, just infinitely innovative riffs on classic tricks. But the variations and personal stamps each magician puts on these tricks are where I think the true artistry lies. Take the 11 $1 bill trick, as it was first described to me. I have seen it performed many ways by many different names, on Saturday for example, it was performed by a magician from my home town as the 4 card trick. But I have never seen it performed so well as the 11 $1 bill trick so I will use that variation as my example. The magician performing this trick always invites a member of the audience to assist him. When I saw the trick, the assistant was Mike, a good friend of mine, and the rest of us were sitting in the front row, close enough to reach out a touch the dollars ourselves.
The Magician took a simple wallet out of his pocket and counted out the contents, 11 $1 bills, into Mike’s skeptical hand and invited him to look over each bill carefully. He then invited Mike to investigate the wallet to prove that is was empty and Mike did so thoroughly. The magician set the empty wallet on the table in plain view and asked Mike to count the stack of bills back to the magician. 11 $1 bills. Then the magician counted them back into Mike’s hand – 11 $1 bills – and asked Mike to count the stack back into his hand again. Only now, suddenly, Mike could only count 10 $1 bills. Surely Mike was mistaken, the Magician said and counted the stack back into Mike’s hand. 11 $1 bills. Try it again, he asked. So Mike counted the stack back into the Magician’s hand. 9 $1 bills. No, the Magician said there are 11 and counted them back into Mike’s hand. 11 $1 bills. Mike counted them back to the magician again. 8 $1 bills.
Ah, said the magician. I know what happened. And he picked the wallet up off the table, opened it up and removed 3 $1 bills! This trick then continued for some time with several variations. The 11 $1 bills grew in number to 15 and shrank and low as 6 until eventually Mike was asked to investigate the offending wallet again, which he did even more thoroughly, and put the empty wallet into his own pocket himself. In the end, Mike could only count 7 $1 dollars back to the magician again and the remaining three were, you guessed it, inside the wallet he had tucked into his own pocket. I am difficult to impress. I look for the misdirection, glance at places the magician is de-emphasizing, and try to see that which I am not supposed to see. Every now and then I see a bent card, the hidden coin or a few of the torn pieces of whatever disappearing, but not this time. I have the vaguest of ideas what the magician might have done, but damned if I could catch him at it. Magic? Of course not. Not in the Harry Potter/Walt Disney/Gandalf the Grey sense, at least. But definitely a gifted artist giving a brilliant demonstration of his craft, and what could be more magical than that?
Anyway, does the 11 $1 bill trick remind you of anything? Yes, exactly. The Angels standings in the AL West. Twenty days ago, the Angels only had to count a mere 1.5 games out of first back to the Rangers. But then they went to New York and Toronto, and entertained a visit from the Rangers themselves, and when the Rangers counted games back to the Angels, the stack grew to 5 games, then 6 games, then 7. But just when the audience expected them to count back 8 games, Mark Trumbo hit that walk off homerun and showed the Rangers that 2 of those games had magically disappeared from the stack.
After pulling several bats and a rookie outfielder seemingly out of thin air, the Angels took on Baltimore and Chicago and were able to count a mere 2 games back to the Rangers again…Boston may have helped with that a little. And then the counting began in earnest in Texas. The Rangers dazzled the Angels by making baseballs disappear over fences and counted 3 games back into the Angels palm. Then the Angels discovered the secret of the disappearing baseball trick themselves, Ervin Santana turned three days rest and grit into a win and the team counted 2 games back to the Rangers. This feat caused me to respond with a trick of my own and magically pull a Droid out of my small, elegant little evening bag to check the score several times on Saturday. However, Jered Weaver was unable to match Santana’s impressive prestidigitation, the Angels fielding moved out of the magic shop and into the novelty store, and suddenly the Rangers counted 3 games in the stack again.
The Angels have 29 games left, 3 of them against Texas, and I can’t help but feel they have a few more tricks up their sleeves. Provided the bats continue to obligingly reappear or, better yet, no one makes them disappear in the first place, I predict that the number of games in this particular stack is going to go up and down several more times before someone is eventually able to pull a division title out of the wallet on the table. The feat is hardly impossible, but if the Angels are able to cinch the division win, it will be one stylish trick indeed – even more enjoyable than the 11 $1 bill trick and even more impressive than my own little trick of walking and standing around the Magic Castle for seven hours in three inch heels with nary a blister to show for it.
As I said in my last post, I think they can do it, but the Angels have a tall order ahead of them if they would like to have an October. However, with three wins in a row since then, two of which succeeded in eating up a little needed distance in the standings, the Angels are tackling that tall order head on!
…And I have been desperately trying to follow their progress each evening after the family goes to bed early on a sketchy WI-fi connection from the cabin where we are staying for the weekend in Yosemite National Park. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stunning natural beauty. Freedom from electronic leashes. Relaxation in the great outdoors far away from the encumbrances of modern technology. Trust me, during the day I am all about that. But come 8:30 p.m. or so, I want to know the score and I want to follow the last few innings f at all possible.
Peter Bourjos and Mark Trumbo are on absolute hitting terrors. Torii Hunter’s hit streak continues. Bats, gloves and arms are growing steadily more clutch. We have Hank Conger and, best of all, Mike Trout back up from the minors, which means I am seeing various incarnations of my dream, Bourjos in Center, Trout in one of the corners, 2012 outfield right now in 2011…or, at least I will be seeing it Tuesday once I’m back in town. I couldn’t be happier!!
Okay, that isn’t entirely true. I could be happier if a few of our pitching woes were solved, namely the number 4 and 5 starting rotation spots and some unnecessarily exciting fellows in the bullpen – why did we go to Fernando Rodney again? Why? I don’t know what to make of Pineiro’s outing, exactly. Nine hits and four runs in six innings but he didn’t walk anyone and the runs were clustered in one bad inning plus a solo homerun. Is he a little better and likely to get better still? Were the Angels just damn lucky to score enough runs this time and might not be so next time? It’s tough to tell not having actually seen it. And then we have Jerome Williams making his first major league pitching start since 2007 for us on Sunday. I wish him all the best, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have concerns. Trust me when I say I really don’t want to have to start referring to this rotation as Santana, Weaver and Haren, then two days of swearin’. I think that’s a little too nostalgic, even for the 50th anniversary.
* * * * *
More often than not, the rules determining which pitchers are credited with wins, losses, no decisions, saves, holds, blown saves and the like work well enough. But occasionally they can lead to some serious injustices. Take Saturday’s game against the Orioles for example, two outs, bases loaded, Rodney is inexplicably called to the mound and proceeds to do what Rodney does best – okay, second best, he didn’t walk anyone – he gives up a single after two pitches and a run scores, two with Torii’s throwing error. But the Angels rallied in the bottom of the inning, winning in walk off fashion. So, Pineiro gets a no decision, Jordan Walden, who did allow the game to become tied in the first place but then came back for a spotless second inning gets a blown save and Rodney gets the win? Does that seem fair to you?
I think we need a new stat, indicating which relief outings are truly quality and which are…shall we say…unnecessarily exciting. Why not? We have a stat for everything else, right? Thinking of the most egregious crimes a reliever can commit, I propose something to the effect of Win/Save – (Walks + Earned Runs + Extra Base Hits)/# of batters seen. Basically, this would create fractional wins and saves for relievers. A quality win or save would be a 1 or only slightly lower, a .9 for example. But a barely deserved win might be a .25 or even a -.25. We could call this new stat something as mundane as a Weighted Relief Record, but what fun would that be? I propose instead that we call this new stat the Specific Criteria Adjusted Relief Index, or SCARI, as in Rodney may have gotten the win, but his SCARI was, well, pretty darned scary…
…because, of course, I’m completely joking around here…okay, make that mostly.
Because in the course of any season, regardless of how well your team is or is not doing, it’s going to happen. Several times. Well, if you’re me and it’s the Angels doing the sucking, you just keep right on watching. Call it misplaced optimism. Call it “fan”aticism carried to masochistic degree. Call it a factor of being raised on SoCal baseball where, truly, more so that for any other teams in the majors there is no lead so large that every now and then it can’t be overcome…or given up for that matter. Call it whatever you like, but if I’ve started watching the game, be it at the ballpark or on the television, even on delay, then I’m going to finish it — root, root, root for my guys or at least show solidarity by sitting tight through the evening death watch, as it were.
Fortunately, this evening I accidentally saw the end of the game. Not knowing the end of an east coast game while you’re waiting for your husband to come home to start said game on delay when you blog…and read everyone else’s blogs…and watch MLB tonight…and, and, and, you get the general idea…on the night your team decides to blow goats two days after pitching a no-hitter? It’s not possible. Seth knew the outcome before he got home too. I won’t give up on a train wreck once it’s started, but I also don’t believe that fandom demands seeking one out when I already know the gorey depths and bloody extent of the of the carnage.
So, what do you do when the game just plain sucks? Either in lieu of watching it or after it’s over?
Change the channel. Yep. Pick up that remote and put something else on. Depending on your personality, another game might be just the ticket, or it might drive you into greater fits of depression. Sometimes something completely different is a better idea. Watch a movie. Drool over Food Network. Catch up on some of the April and May episodes of favorite TV series you abandoned on the DVR once the baseball season started. One word of advice, though. Watching SportsCenter, Quick Pitch, or the like immediately after your team choked and hearing the talking heads not just speak ill of the dead, but trash talk the corpse during the autopsy isn’t therapy. It’s the sports fan equivalent of drunk dialing an ex-lover while you’re still raw from a recent break up. Sure, you think you’re going to achieve some measure of closure, but no. It’s a trap. …or so I’ve heard…
Go to the Movies. Get out of the house and lose yourself in someone else’s story for a few hours. After Joel Pinero’s Post Oakland Debacle, Debacle Part II: This Time it’s in Cleveland, we went to go see Captain Abs…er…America. *Sigh.* Is this geek girl heaven? No ma’am. It’s just the first preview for the Avengers movie in 2012. *Sigh again* Really, Captain America was fun, and it had a neat, knowing WWII recruitment poster come to life look to it, but it was worth it for that preview alone.
Sadly, sometimes stronger measures in this arena are required. Cheesy, cheesier, so bad it’s good, and occasionally even just plain bad movies have their uses. Yes, there was a game so bad a few weeks ago that we actually went to see Transformers III. Our rationalizations? Let someone else pay for the air conditioning for a few hours. Pretty explosions in 3-D are therapeutic. And, really, the game might look better in comparison. We were mostly right.
Curl Up with a Good Book. If you’re not a fan of the printed word, no worries. Some people juggle geese and all that. But if you are, this is an excellent strategy. Brain vacation! Cruise around in Crowley’s ill fated Bentley or Harry Dresden’s blue beetle. Visit Middle Earth or 221B Baker Street. Attend Woland’s Walpurgis Night Midnight Ball. And return to reality when your desire to punch walls over the game has receded to mere annoyance.
Ummm…it’s called alcohol. Feeling the need for something a bit more mind-numbing than my previous suggestions? The main benefit of this time honored coping strategy is that you don’t have to wait until after the game to begin self-medicating. Wine. Beer. Bourbon. Vodka. Be the reason the rum is gone. Heck, get fancy and do catastrophe themed shots like flaming drambuie. And it’s versatile too! If your team starts to rally, your spirit drenched activities can flip the switch from wake to celebratory revels faster than Peter Bourjos goes from first to home plate. And if you haven’t had the pleasure of watching the lad this season, that’s pretty damn fast.
Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. Say no more. Personally, I think this should be a frequent go-to post game strategy regardless of the score. A great pick me up after a terrible game. A fantastic celebration after a good game. It’s the little black dress of cope-age.
Blog. Put fingers to key board and rant, whine and snark away. Oh, come on. You know you were going to do it anyway. Why not get all of the ranting out of the way during or immediately after the game when it has the most direct therapeutic value. If raw emotions – or perhaps having, ahem, combined this option with one of the others – adversely affect the quality of your prose, it’s not like you actually have to post it. Of course, that’s never stopped me before.
And if none of this is effective, well, you know you’re going to get right back on that horse with the next game to cheer again. How can you not? Your cure is only a win away. And your relapse? Well, best not to talk about that. But you might as well keep this list handy, you know, just in case.
Taking the mound Wednesday morning for the Angels and Indians rubber match, Ervin Santana did his best to make absolutely certain no pre-game write-up will ever discuss his history of failure against Cleveland again. I’d say he was successful. Wouldn’t you?
Santana’s first win against Cleveland was only MLB’s third no-hitter this season, the first of his own career, and the Angels first solo no-hitter since Mike Witt pitched his perfect game against the Rangers in 1984. (Witt and Mark Langston combined for a no-hitter against the Mariners in 1990). I tell you, there are serious perks to having the number three guy in your starting rotation be of such a high caliber that when he has his control, he could be the number two or even number one guy on a lot of team’s pitching staffs. The Angels may not have the Phillys Four Aces, but you’ve got to love two aces, two not quite aces and one ace in training. Won’t get you much at the poker table, it’s true, but in the AL, it could get you pretty far indeed.
Congratulations Ervin! Very well deserved! What a personal accomplishment and what an accomplishment for the team! And well we’re at it, let’s not forget the rest of the team who helped get Santana there – Santana certainly didn’t forget them in his always humble comments after the game. Special recognition should be given to Peter Bourjos, Torii Hunter, Howie Kendrick and Mike Trout for their bats. Torii, Howie, Bourjos and Mark Trumbo for their defense and Bobby Wilson for calling one heck of great game. The Angels have now won three series in a row and 11 of their last 14 series. And the Twins appear to have taken my Glamour List – The Baseball Edition #10 to heart, so today is a very good day indeed. :)
* * * * *
I’ve mentioned once or twice in this blog that my husband and I sometimes refer to Santana as Hobbes. Well, stills from today’s no-hitter game footage, finally allow me to explain myself with a few helpful visual aids. Check this out.
Mild mannered, affable, everyday teammate with one of the sweetest, most endearing smiles in the majors:
With game face firmly in place:
Just remember, who kicked the most behind at Calvinball? That’s right. Not Calvin. Hobbes did. Coincidence? I think not!
* * * * *
One more reason why I wish I had played hooky and stayed home to watch this game, out of a very, very long list? (Yeah right, like I’ve ever been that irresponsible in my entire life, sigh.) Peter Bourjos and Mike Trout playing together in the same outfield, with Bourjos in center and Trout in left, batting one behind the other in the same line-up. I managed to listen to the radio for Bourjos’ triple – man, that kid can fly! – immediately followed by Trout’s veteran quality battle with the pitcher culminating in a sacrifice fly to deep right center and a game tying RBI. And I got chills. Seriously. It was like the best teaser trailer for the Angels 2012 season ever. Ever.