The Angels head to Toronto tomorrow. Perhaps the change of scenery will do them good. This last homestand was awful. It started with a 3-17 bulldozing by the White Sox and ended with, well okay, so it ended with a win. Yeah, a walk-off win in the 9th. Woohoo. I guess I’m still harboring some anger over Saturday’s ridiculous loss. Closer (or more accurately, IMPOSTOR), Brian Fuentes, was handed Matt Palmer’s shut-out, 3-0 lead in the 9th and single-handedly incinerated it. I’ll get over it…eventually. But I am SO over Brian Fuentes. I would like to personally put him on a flight back to Denver.
What??? You don’t actually think he’s earned the right to fly commercial? (Good luck clearing those Rockies, Brian!) I am the furthest thing from a fair-weather fan but Saturday’s game really got to me. I had trouble sleeping that night. I kept re-playing that 9th inning over and over again in my head. (Okay, I’ll admit it…only because I know he won’t go back and read this…not having hubby home to spoon me didn’t help.) By game time on Sunday, I was toying with the idea of recording the game and indulging in a “General Hospital” marathon (a truly disgusting habit…I need an intervention).
How loyal am I? When the Angels were down 8-1 in the bottom of the 6th, I didn’t even turn the channel. Was I my usual optimistic self? Nope. Can you blame me? The previous 5 games were hard to shake. A lack of hitting, an unsteady bullpen and some really lame base running mistakes had taken their toll on me. Everyone’s entitled to a bad day, including me.
Sure, the Angels seemed to have something going on when they scored 4 runs in the inning but there was no way I was going to fall victim to false hopes again. In the 9th, down two runs, Izturis and Figgins each managed to draw walks. They’re on with 1 out. In the past, I would’ve been up and pacing the family room. Instead, I remain prone on the couch and actually feel my eyes roll. Awwww…hate me if you want. Tuesday night, tying run at the plate, ohhhh…game over. Sound familiar??? Abreu flies out to left. Here we go again. Vlady hits a blooper to right and a run scores. Huh? I sit upright. Mariner’s closer, David Aardsma, intentionally walks my Torii Hunter. I move to the edge of my seat and start thinking, “Make him pay, make him pay,” like I usually do. Juan Rivera comes to the plate…and walks! In comes the tying run! I feel my pulse increasing but suddenly, there’s a flash and I see…a week ago, Dodger game, tied in the 10th, Angels can’t score, Dodgers get their walk-off. I shake my head like an Etch-A-Sketch to erase the image. Kendry Morales is at the plate. Now I’m on my feet. And then…
I knew they could do it. Good luck in Toronto, guys. I have faith. I always do.
Baseball…believe in something better.
Closing pitcher needed. Must know how to throw strikes. Proven track record required. Must be willing to walk off the mound if, in the 9th, you’ve already allowed 2 baserunners on. Must be willing to show initiative and return to the dugout on your own. No waiting for the Big Boss to come and get your sorry *ss. (Note: giving up a 3 run homer will result in a suspension or possibly a trade to East Anaheim Little League.) Nights and weekends required. Uniform provided. Apply in person at the Big A. Hurry. Please. Next game in 30 minutes.