I can't believe I forgot about it... I feel like such a bad fan, almost like I missed my child's birthday or forgot to get my wife an anniversary present. Yesterday, October 27th, was the four year anniversary of the Angels' defeat of the San Francisco Giants in Game 7 of the 2002 World Series.
I suppose I can be forgiven. It's not as if I received an engraved invitation to the party or anything. I kinda hoped the 4th anniversary party would be on the field of some National League team, as the Angels won their second World Series this year. But, alas, it wasn't to be, and I now have reason to write this blog (It'd be a boring diary, that of a fan the year AFTER a World Series win, wouldn't it?)
But, nonetheless, yesterday was the four year mark of the first World Championship in
Anaheim, and thusfar, the last. And your normal blogger would probably use this space to talk about the series. They'd post recaps of the games, pics of Troy Percival celebrating the final out of Game 7, things like that. But not I.
No, I will take this opportunity to recount my experience of the 2002 World Series.
I know nobody cares about this except me, as any true Angels fan will find it inferior to their own recollections of watching, of LIVING, the World Series we always hoped, but never thought, would be.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It all started with a kind of dumb disbelief and, to be honest, a strong dose of cynicism. When the Angels clinched the Wild Card slot in 2002, it was something I wasn't used to. The 1995 Angels and their collapse was, though. Coming the season after the '94 strike, I wasn't that concerned. Even with Cal Ripken's 2131st consecutive game, baseball was on my shit list, and the fact that Disney had bought my team did not help. So, as the Angels slid from an 11-game August lead to a tie for the AL West, it wasn't a surprise. Nor was Seattle's 9-1 victory in the 1-game playoff to decide the AL West Championship.
My entire life, the Angels were a first-half team. I watched them compete neck-and-neck with the Oakland A's in 1989, only to collapse after the All-Star break. It was expected that any success the Angels had would be early and fleeting.
But there was something different about 2002. Perhaps it was the uniform change. Chris Berman at ESPN had called the 1997-2001 design (logo to the left) "Softball beer league" uniforms, and I can't think of anything that describes it better. Perhaps the Rally Monkey truly had mystical powers.
But more likely, it was the right players, the right manager and coaches, at the right time. The Angels fought through the regular season to win 99 games, and for the first time since I've been old enough to truly pay attention, it looked like they believed they could win.
So, as the ALDS started and the Yankees came to Anaheim for Game 1, I was excited to have postseason baseball in my town, in my stadium, but my hopes weren't too high. These were the New York Yankees, the defending American League Champions, and nobody gave the Angels a chance. Much like an actor up for an Academy Award with no chance of winning saying "It's an honor just to be nominated," I thought it was a special season just to be in the playoffs, and I was happy just to be able to turn on my TV in October and watch Angels baseball.
I figured the Yankees would win in 4 games, and the only reason I didn't pick the Yankees to win in 3 is because I didn't have the heart to pick my Angels to get swept.
So in Game 1 at Edison Field, when the Angels took a 5-4 lead into the 8th inning, I was surprised. When the Yankees came back in to go ahead 8-5, I was not.
But then something amazing happened. In New York, the Angels won Game 2. The sweep that the entire baseball writing world had predicted was not to happen. And those slow rolling waves of hope began to erode the bedrock of pessimism my Fandom was built upon. I kept thinking to myself these are the Angels, they'll find 2002's answer to Donnie Moore, but these thoughts were half-hearted. By the time the Angels won Game 3 to take a 2-1 lead over the Yankees in the 5 game series, cynical thoughts were softer, quieter, and were starting to be less of a defense mechanism and more fear that it might happen.
So, when the Angels beat the Yankees 9-5 in Game 4 of the 2002 ALDS, I cheered loudly in front of my TV. I smiled. My Angels had just won their first ever postseason series, and by stunning the mighty Yankees, no less! 2002 was a success, regardless of what happened after that.
And while doom was in my mind, the brightness of hope had, for the first time, drowned it out.
To be continued...
I suppose I can be forgiven. It's not as if I received an engraved invitation to the party or anything. I kinda hoped the 4th anniversary party would be on the field of some National League team, as the Angels won their second World Series this year. But, alas, it wasn't to be, and I now have reason to write this blog (It'd be a boring diary, that of a fan the year AFTER a World Series win, wouldn't it?)
But, nonetheless, yesterday was the four year mark of the first World Championship in
Anaheim, and thusfar, the last. And your normal blogger would probably use this space to talk about the series. They'd post recaps of the games, pics of Troy Percival celebrating the final out of Game 7, things like that. But not I.No, I will take this opportunity to recount my experience of the 2002 World Series.
I know nobody cares about this except me, as any true Angels fan will find it inferior to their own recollections of watching, of LIVING, the World Series we always hoped, but never thought, would be.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It all started with a kind of dumb disbelief and, to be honest, a strong dose of cynicism. When the Angels clinched the Wild Card slot in 2002, it was something I wasn't used to. The 1995 Angels and their collapse was, though. Coming the season after the '94 strike, I wasn't that concerned. Even with Cal Ripken's 2131st consecutive game, baseball was on my shit list, and the fact that Disney had bought my team did not help. So, as the Angels slid from an 11-game August lead to a tie for the AL West, it wasn't a surprise. Nor was Seattle's 9-1 victory in the 1-game playoff to decide the AL West Championship.
My entire life, the Angels were a first-half team. I watched them compete neck-and-neck with the Oakland A's in 1989, only to collapse after the All-Star break. It was expected that any success the Angels had would be early and fleeting.
But there was something different about 2002. Perhaps it was the uniform change. Chris Berman at ESPN had called the 1997-2001 design (logo to the left) "Softball beer league" uniforms, and I can't think of anything that describes it better. Perhaps the Rally Monkey truly had mystical powers.But more likely, it was the right players, the right manager and coaches, at the right time. The Angels fought through the regular season to win 99 games, and for the first time since I've been old enough to truly pay attention, it looked like they believed they could win.
So, as the ALDS started and the Yankees came to Anaheim for Game 1, I was excited to have postseason baseball in my town, in my stadium, but my hopes weren't too high. These were the New York Yankees, the defending American League Champions, and nobody gave the Angels a chance. Much like an actor up for an Academy Award with no chance of winning saying "It's an honor just to be nominated," I thought it was a special season just to be in the playoffs, and I was happy just to be able to turn on my TV in October and watch Angels baseball.
I figured the Yankees would win in 4 games, and the only reason I didn't pick the Yankees to win in 3 is because I didn't have the heart to pick my Angels to get swept.
So in Game 1 at Edison Field, when the Angels took a 5-4 lead into the 8th inning, I was surprised. When the Yankees came back in to go ahead 8-5, I was not.
But then something amazing happened. In New York, the Angels won Game 2. The sweep that the entire baseball writing world had predicted was not to happen. And those slow rolling waves of hope began to erode the bedrock of pessimism my Fandom was built upon. I kept thinking to myself these are the Angels, they'll find 2002's answer to Donnie Moore, but these thoughts were half-hearted. By the time the Angels won Game 3 to take a 2-1 lead over the Yankees in the 5 game series, cynical thoughts were softer, quieter, and were starting to be less of a defense mechanism and more fear that it might happen.
So, when the Angels beat the Yankees 9-5 in Game 4 of the 2002 ALDS, I cheered loudly in front of my TV. I smiled. My Angels had just won their first ever postseason series, and by stunning the mighty Yankees, no less! 2002 was a success, regardless of what happened after that.
And while doom was in my mind, the brightness of hope had, for the first time, drowned it out.
To be continued...
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