4.27.00 ANAHEIM ANGELS vs TAMPA BAY DEVIL RAYS
I'd worked too much all week and listened to the Braves complete a sweep of the Dodgers that morning, so I was pissed, tired, and in need of some escapist activity capable of sustaining my attention but which lacked for me any sort of rooting interest. Too early for summer blockbusters, I went to see an Angels-Devil Rays game instead.
The Devil Rays. My wife, unfamiliar with Florida's sea life, first thought that the name referred to some sort of weapon. I'm actually okay with it, and now, having seen them in person, must admit that the Devil Rays' uniforms are not as awful as I'd been led to believe—they are so bad, in fact, that they take the awful uniform to a whole 'nother level, one not seen since the Astros' orange sherbet gear of the '70s and '80s, and perhaps the Padres' brown and gold leisure wear of the same era. In other words, the Devil Rays uniforms are so bad—so utterly weird—that they're actually somewhat compelling. In any case, I'd much rather look at them for nine innings than the wholly uninteresting and equally ugly mess worn by their expansion counterparts, the Arizona Diamondbacks.
I went solo and arrived early, in time to watch batting practice and see the newly-traded Doc Gooden warm up in the Devil Rays' bullpen. Before taking my six dollar seat out in left for the first few innings, though, I was struck by a thought: why don't I just go down to the good seats now? I figured there was a slightly less than 50-50 chance that the rightful owner of whatever seat I plopped down in would show up to claim it, and even if he did, what's the worst that's going to happen? Momentary awkwardness, mild embarrassment, then I find another seat ten feet away. So I went crazy, walked around to the first base side (for novelty's sake), and took an aisle seat about seven rows back between first and home before the game even started, where I remained, undisturbed, for the rest of the evening.
The game was unremarkable. Gooden and Angels' starter Ramon Ortiz were both reasonably effective through five innings. The Devil Rays were able to do more with their hits than the Angels could with theirs, however, and when Ortiz was replaced in the sixth by Al Levine, Tampa touched up the latter for three runs on singles by Greg Vaughn and the pesky Gerald Williams, after which the Devil Rays led 6-1.
Thirty-six-year-old high school science teacher Jim Morris pitched a perfect eighth, inducing a Mo Vaughn pop fly to center before striking out Tim Salmon and Garrett Anderson. That was about it as far as anything interesting goes.
FINAL SCORE: DEVIL RAYS 7, ANGELS 3
MEMORABLE HECKLE:
A relatively placid evening, with only a few barbs slung in the direction
of Jose Canseco. Angels fan near Devil Rays dugout: “Hey Canseco!”
Canseco perceptibly, involuntarily turns. Angels fan: “You suck!”
