I accepted the Register’s offer to keep writing because I wanted to have fun.
Then I found myself sitting in the Angel Stadium press box.
I couldn’t even hang for three outs. Who knew I had something in common with the Angels’ bullpen?
Arte Moreno has not only made it clear he doesn’t want to talk to the media; he also doesn’t want them in the stadium. The press box is so far down the right-field line I found myself covering the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim by way of San Diego.
The Register plan was for me to go onto Texas with the Angels so I might get a little closer look at our guys. Crazy, I know, because even Albert Pujols wasn’t going to Texas.
But I was also going to watch Mike Scioscia possibly manage his last loss or get the chance to see if Jerry Dipoto is as clueless as everyone suggests.
I’d be there now, counting the errors, Josh Hamilton needing only 22 more home runs to match last year’s total in Texas while waiting to see if the Angels finish the season five or six games under .500.
I even had a non-refundable plane ticket, rental car and hotel reservation. I’m also 63, and probably don’t have as many nights left as I would like, but I was going to spend three of them in Texas with a team already dead by baseball standards.
Then I looked at the pictures in the Register, and I was saved. I hope the bosses take this impromptu promotion into consideration when we discuss what to do with a non-refundable airplane ticket.
But yes, I was saved by a joyful, fun-oozing picture of the Irvine High band that ran on Page 6 of the Register’s Varsity Hot Shots’ section this past Wednesday. Look at those kids.
What a pure, awesome, stirring picture by photographer Ed Crisostomo, capturing the varied reactions of youngsters who were just having fun. They obviously were not watching the Angels.
I have no idea what got them going, but I have known that incredible feeling.
I experience it every Sunday in my own living room with my daughter, leaping out of my chair, both arms raised and screaming with delight when one of my fantasy players score and she can only groan in pain.
As a parent I cannot imagine a more fulfilling moment.
When we grew up there was no doubt, Father Knows Best, because it was a thrilling TV show; today dads are usually a step behind when portrayed on TV.
And now with all the new electronic typewriters, Iphones and VHS players out there, we sometimes come off as being clueless.
So I believe it’s my mission to save mankind and remind our children who rules, and Matthew Stafford can help make it happen. He better make it happen, or I’ll have to play Jay Cutler.
I’d prefer, of course, to watch John Wayne, knowing he never loses. But as demeaning as it is to admit as a father that my own daughter doesn’t like John Wayne, I still wouldn’t trade the time we have together making fun of the Chargers.
We watch every NFL game together: father, daughter and Andrew Siciliano, and what would you give to spend more time with your child as they get on with their own life?
I admit it is expensive: snacks, lunch and dinner every Sunday, 17 weeks in a row and then the playoffs. And she can eat, let me tell you. Thousands and thousands of dollars, I guess.
But I’m lucky. I’ve got a best friend in a wife who is pretty well trained now, and a daughter who likes to nap on our couch every Sunday. There isn’t a column to be written from Texas that would match that good fortune.
I also have a daughter who is married to a Grocery Store Bagger, but they live in Arizona because the beer is cheaper.
So I really do have it made, needing only the wonderful Irvine High band to remind me how much fun someone can have with sports today.
I know it sounds almost impossible what with sports bloggers, the WNBA, million-dollar athletes not worth two cents, Stephen A. Smith & Skip Bayless, drunken fans, NBA players on HGH, golf on TV without Tiger, athletes who won’t sign autographs for kids, Steve Mason on sports talk radio, the price of tickets, parking and concessions or an HDTV.
But I do remember what fun it was to go to Cubs’ games with my father. And how he would urge me to sneak down into the more expensive seats with my glove and try to catch a foul ball.
I loved how he used to laugh at me as I sat there pounding my glove, hoping and praying, but nothing coming my way.
And I find it so cool now that I can continue the family tradition every NFL Sunday, laughing at my own daughter’s dashed high hopes.
Now that’s fun, and what sports should really be all about.
• You watch the Fox Sports West broadcast, and you might walk away thinking the Angels had a 17-game lead on the pack rather than being baseball’s biggest letdown.
They lost their third straight to Texas on Saturday, and in summing up the debacle, broadcaster Victor Rojas said starting Angels pitcher Garrett Richards “gutted it out and almost got through five innings.’’
That’s how far Angels’ expectations have fallen.
• Angels pitcher C.J. Wilson, a night earlier, went Victor Rojas on everyone and said he struggled early because the umpires had not rubbed up the baseballs sufficiently.
Get a grip.
• The Victor Rojas headline atop a story on Josh Hamilton on Page 7 of the Register sports section Saturday: “Hamilton: Strong finish bodes well for 2014.’’
The Angels finished 2012 16 games above .500 as one of the hottest teams in the league, and folks probably thought: That bodes well for 2013.
• How about a little reality here: The Angels flopped in 2013, don’t know if the manager and/or general manager will return and have very little wiggle room financially to improve if owner Arte Moreno wants to stay near the salary cap.
The good news, though, the Angels are already accepting $500 deposits toward the purchase of season tickets next year. Hope, after all, is always for sale.
Contact the writer: tjsimers@ocregister.com
