Thursday Recap: 5/1's Game.

[I've been working on something special over the past week, so I haven't been able to update as frequently as I'd have liked. Here's a post that I began to write last Friday...]


Before I get to the recap, I want to vent a bit after last night's unbearable loss to the Oakland Steroids.

Many of you know that I live in die with this team. I've endured so many losing seasons(11-game lead
that was blown in '95- I cried), that some of the recent success ('02 World
Series win- I cried) almost seems unfair because once you've tasted the sweet, sweet victory of your childhood team going all the way, you ALWAYS want that feeling. It's like cocaine. No, it's worse.

You start to expect almost unreachable goals for players, and end up being that salty old man who trolls the baseball games with a frown, you know, the ones that start conversations like "Back in [insert winning season/moment/overall good memory here]...."

I don't want to be that guy, but by the looks of things I think I'm inevitably going to be. It's my destiny.

Anyway, let's get started with that recap, shall we?

Tonight is Angel Stadium's first ever College Night. Not exactly sure what that means, but what I do know is that we're going to Del Taco.

Upon getting there (it's been a on again/off again tradition), we encounter the World's Toughest Guy, the new Del Inferno sauce, and a call from Amelia. She let's us know that she wants to come and meet us there from work- but I know better. I tell Mike that one of two things are either going to happen..

a.) She gets caught in an unexpected traffic jam/accident and arrives to Del Taco as we're leaving.
b.) She goes to one of the six other Del Taco's on Katella that we're not at.

Alas, Option B ended up being exercised and it was then I knew tonight was going to be a bad one.

Coxy gets some seats for us on the field, at a pretty good price too. Even men with beards from the 1800's could afford to leave their gold claim and catch tonight's match up! Huzzah!


Pink cotton candy was in with the suits tonight.


It's at this point where Oakland completely runs the table on us. What started off as such an exciting, back-and-forth game, started to look like a blowout. Right before the 8-run inning, we find out that the right fielder we're heckling (Emil Brown) shot a reporter in the eye with a BB gun, and whose middle name is Quincy. That's what you call firepower. At the time, I couldn't for him to come back, but about 45 minutes after the walloping I just about lost all that enthusiasm.

Until I saw him.

"QUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINCY!!!!!!!!!"

This slimy kid was about to be diamond cutted all night. He looked like he came straight from Slytherin, and had one of those annoying Oakland air horns to boot. Did I mention his pop had a fanny pack, and his friend was a poser? I didn't? Well his dad had a fanny pack and his friend was a poser.


Don't even remember what the score was when I took this, and I'm sure neither did all the people who were once sitting in these seats.


It's about now when I start to have that awful, sinking feeling. I start to look around for things to cheer me up. Oh, hey. It's 70's night on the 18th. Oh, hey. My school loves the Angels.


Oh, hey. A Brian Wilson sweater.


Oh, hey. Now's probably a good time for a picture. There's somebody dead behind that smile.


I wonder what the seats look like over by the plate? Let's go check before the game's over. Oh, hey. Nobody left. Like inside my soul.


Nat and her new BFF Torii Hunter.


B-Rod.


In the end, my Angels were hammered on, the A's fans at the stadium made my blood boil, my voice was hoarse, and I'm cold, hungry, and lonely. Wait. Am I bleeding?

Welcome to my life as a baseball fan.