7.13.00
LOS ANGELES DODGERS vs ANAHEIM ANGELS
It'd been a rough week, one that for me had featured a euthanized pet, too much work and too little sleep, and for my brother a long-overdue but only semi-intentional job resignation. Sitting through another embarrassing Dodgers loss with Damore between us was the last thing we needed, but I was going out of town the next day and we had little other choice but to go out and take our lumps. Easing the potential burden was the presence of expatriate Dodger fan Steve Cronk, who before adopting the Toronto Blue Jays as his new home team had been a cornerstone of our Damore-ridiculing troika, so at least there'd be another body to absorb the blows.
Something happened back there between my paean to the “new” Dodgers and the All-Star break—the team's first half had ended with 18 consecutive scoreless innings in Seattle, and for weeks before, both on the road and at home, the Dodgers had looked like a team asleep at the wheel. It'd become obvious that Davey Johnson shouldn't be feeling too secure about his job, and there had even been hints of the kind of clubhouse grumbling that's been the club's signature over the last two seasons. Meanwhile, down in Anaheim, the Angels had been taking full advantage of a none-too-challenging schedule and making themselves into genuine contenders in a suddenly very good AL West. Their young staff pitching well, Darin Erstad showing no signs of awaking from his two-hits-a-night coma, the Angels were displaying the kind of overachieving moxie we've come to expect from that other lame team managed by a former Dodger, the San Francisco Giants.
Going into the series, then, it didn't look too good. But whatever. We went. If nothing else, at least we wouldn't be subjected to fireworks and explosions this time around.
Carlos Perez was facing the recently reactivated Ken Hill, and both pitchers got off to good starts, getting ahead of hitters early and inducing lots of easy grounders and pop-ups. With two out in the bottom of the third, however, Gary Sheffield continued his monstrous slugging streak by launching a two-run homer into the Dodgers' bullpen. All was quiet after that until the fifth, when the Angels managed a run on a double and a single; the real pain didn't come until two innings later, when, with Perez still on the mound, Troy Glaus belted one over the left field fence to give the Angels a 3-2 lead. It might've been at this point that Damore started whacking my brother with his cap, an unwise move that resulted in an inadvertently caught finger, a torn plastic snapper thing in the back, and much wrathful mirth at Damore's expense. It would only be the beginning of Chris' woes, however.
With Shigetoshi Hasegawa now pitching in the bottom of the seventh, the slumping Shawn Green singled in Paul Lo Duca, who'd reached on a Mo Vaughn error. The score now tied at three, Shiggy walked Eric Karros to load the bases with only one out, but in typical Dodger fashion, Todd Hollandsworth struck out swinging and Adrian Beltre grounded to third to end the inning.
Terry Adams and the hilarious Mike Fetters—if you haven't seen his head-jerk-to-the-plate move before every pitch, you owe it to yourself to tune into a Dodger game in the late innings even if you couldn't be bothered otherwise—came out and pitched perfect eighth and ninth innings, respectively, and the Dodgers had another chance to go ahead in the bottom of the ninth, with two on and one out, but Karros grounded into the double-play to send the game to extra innings.
Damore, who'd planned his evening around an early Angels' victory so he could make it to a rock show in Silver Lake, was looking anxious by now, three-plus hours into the proceedings. Unfettered by the thimble-sized strike zone he'd dealt with a month ago in Anaheim under similar circumstances, Antonio Osuna worked a one-two-three tenth, at which point Al Levine took the mound for the Angels. Hollandsworth completed his oh-fer by bouncing impotently to first, but Beltre followed with a triple to the corner in right, and the Dodgers were in business. Mike Scioscia gambled and brought Erstad in from left to fill out a five-man infield, and it worked: Kevin Elster hit the ball right to him for a seldom-seen 7-3 out.
But the Angels' luck was not to last. Pinch-hitter Jim Leyritz, acquired from the Yankees only a couple weeks earlier for Jose Vizcaino, has a long history of success in situations like these, one that Scioscia and Levine inexplicably chose to ignore. A strike swinging, a ball, and a long, gracefully arcing shot to the center field wall was all it took. Damore, his broken hat pulled down over his face, never looked so damned funny.
FINAL SCORE: DODGERS 4, ANGELS 3
MEMORABLE HECKLE: He's not really a heckler, but my brother again managed to come up with the line of the night. Responding to some criticism of Mike Scioscia, Steve interjected, “Hey man, easy on Scioscia—he's my favorite Dodger, you know.” “Favorite Dodger?” my brother repeated, incredulously. “Favorite Dodger?!? That's like saying Darth Vader is your favorite Jedi!”
