My miracle man, Matt Palmer, is now 5-0. Granted, he didn’t have his A game, but as it turns out, his C+ game was good enough. Palmer gave up 7 hits (2 were HR’s) and the Angels relievers, who took over after 5 innings, gave the Mariners nothing! Zilch, zero, nada!
Not even a walk. Now THAT’S a miracle! When Brian Fuentes came in to close things out in the 9th, he had only a one-run cushion. But lo and behold…he struck out the side! Now, I know I’ve been a little tough on Brian. But I have to say, I really liked what I saw tonight. Sure, he had a couple of full counts, that only means he made those critical pitches and kept it together under pressure. I like that in my men…ummm…I mean, I like that in my closers.
Brian and I have had our issues from the start. First, he came from the other side of the tracks…the National League…and I didn’t know a whole lot about him. Second, it didn’t help that he thought he could somehow take the place of my Frankie-Baby.
If anyone knows what a tough nut I am to crack, it’s Frankie. It was love at first sight when he popped up during the 2002 post-season and gave me a ring (okay, a replica World Series ring, given out to all 45K fans at the 2003 opener), but I wanted nothing to do with him when he tried to fill the shoes of my one and only, first love forever and ever…
I was the ice queen to K-Rod when my Percy left and it took quite a while for him to get back in my good graces. Things were good for a while (at least I thought so) but then he left me for the big city…and he didn’t even leave a note! In April, when all of us Angels fans were hurting, I turned to Brian for comfort. I needed him to show me that everything was going to be all right. But he couldn’t or wouldn’t so Brian and I have not had our bonding time…yet.
Not to mention, I’ve only seen him 12 times so far this season. Jeez. I saw Frankie nearly every night last year. Sure, ours was a volatile relationship. But that’s what made it so exciting and unpredictable. No matter how much he’d push my buttons or stress me out, I could count on him to do the right thing in the end. Yes, I know Brian’s only let me down twice so far, but our relationship is just too new for him to play with my heart like he does some nights. Tonight was a big step on a long road. It’ll take some time, but we’ll work it out. In the meantime though, Matt Palmer and I? We’re like this:
Baseball…it’s so tasty too!
Last night confirms why I could never be a pro football fan. I mean, how many games are there in a regular NFL season? Like 10 or 12? (I know…it’s 16. Thank you, Wikipedia!) If the Angels were, say, the Bears, then they would’ve just blown 1/16 of their season. But instead, since we’re talking MLB, it’s 1/162…a fraction I can handle.
The Angels had their first run on the board by the end of the 1st inning. It looked like a good start and with another run in the 2nd, I was starting to get cocky. Then in Anaheim, the clouds rolled in, the temperature dropped 10 degrees and a light drizzle began to fall. My husband said the Athletics were now playing in their element. Ha ha. So, that’s it for the highlights. The Angels bullpen crumbled and the A’s helped themselves to 16 hits. Oh well. Onward and upward. Nick Adenhart takes the mound tonight and I sincerely hope he can overcome the nerves that helped him give up 5 runs in 2 innings in his first major league start last May that, coincidentally, was against the A’s. I always root for the rookie.
Since I really don’t care to discuss last night’s game any further, I thought I’d mention…
What I missed during the off-season: Angel games (duh), taking the carpool transition from the south 57 to the west 91 and seeing the halo on the Big A all lit up after just another Halo victory, laughing at the Dodger reps who came into my office trying to sell me ticket packages (hello…did the 5 foot by 3 foot Angels schedule on my wall or my vast collection of bobbleheads and post-season commemorative ball caps behind my desk not give you just a little hint of where my loyalty lies??), Rex Hudler and Steve Physioc’s perfect blend of casual banter, spot-on stats and heartfelt enthusiasm and my rally monkey. (I gently woke him from hibernation just before game time Monday. But I swear I saw him cover his eyes last night.)
What I did NOT miss during the off-season: Those horrible, mind-numbingly stupid Howard’s TV commercials. Seriously, couldn’t Howard’s have spent a couple more bucks in the advertising department and hired someone who could actually write?? Now, Mike Scioscia shouldn’t waste pen and paper on an Oscar acceptance speech anytime soon but he is totally a victim of his material. Those scripts could make DeNiro look like a dork.
Remember those great Angels commercials a few seasons back, like the one where Tim Salmon and the guys are in a restaurant ordering “ribbies”? Or when Garret Anderson is playing baseball with the neighborhood kids and smacks the ball out of the county and one of the kids starts crying ’cause it was his ball? Or my favorite…Troy Percival and the other pitchers in Spanish class? Hahaha. (Oh great. Jeff Miller is SO gonna call me a racist again.) Maybe the writer of those commercials is looking for work. Howard’s probably found their marketing company on a bus bench (no, not from an ad on a bus bench, literally ON a bus bench…and most likely holding a brown paper sack with a bottle inside). The whole purpose of a commercial is to influence potential customers so I suppose they are effective. They effectively made me go to Best Buy to get my 47-incher (still the new love of my life). From now on when a Howard’s commercial airs, I’ll just have to do what I used to do when Frankie would load the bases in the 9th. Leave the room.
Baseball…the gift that keeps on giving.