Aloha Eyespy! And Welcome back to SoCal with your son this weekend!

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Over five months ago, when the lovely Two Thousand and Eleven baseball season finally slumped to a horrendous close for us Los Angeles Angel’s fans, I sat in my chair in my office and was extremely bummed out. Indescribably disconsolate. Intractably melancholic. A pissed-off son-of-a-bitch.You know what I mean. Remember?

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            “Just a bunch of bums, pal,” said Gramps, sitting back disgruntled in his Yankee Stadium bleacher seat alongside his 10-year-old grandson, while wiping off his horn-rimmed glasses and smoothing back his long grey hair: “Just a bunch of bums.” He was referring to my beloved ’68 Yankees, who did totally suck. But damn could he rub it in.

      Looking over the field grimly, Gramps would always shake his head and begin telling me about the Yankees of the past, and particularly Mickey Mantle. "See that '500 Foot' sign?" Gramps would say, pointing to the giant white figures on the centerfield wall. "That's where Mickey Mantle hit one of his greatest World Series home runs! No one's ever hit it out that far. No one!” Disgusted he would add, “Achh,” and gesture dismissively at the current “bums” loitering in the dug-out once inhabited by so many greats. When the Yankees took the field, Gramps would gasp as we watched the currently hobbled version of the mighty Mickey Mantle trundle out to centerfield with his glove in hand. My fourth year as a Yankee fan—1968--was Mickey's last; and his knees had blown-out from too many diving catches and crashing slides into the plate. But at one game, even as I prayed for him to park one, he blasted one of his last home runs way up into the right field bleachers. Everyone went nuts, but no one was more effusive than Gramps. "That's the ticket, Mickey!" He hollered, standing up and clapping like a madman. "Oh! What a guy!" This was immediately followed by the obligatory dissertation on the early days of the "Mickey Mantle Legend": his 54 homers in '61, his spectacular catches, his clutch hitting throughout many a World Series, and then Gramps would sigh and motion to the current Yankees: "They’re bad now, and they're gonna be nothin' without 'im, pal . . . just you watch . . . nothin'!"

            And he was right. The Yankees sank right to the cellar, as did my hopes. All I was left with was Gramp's endless stories of the "glory days" and the great Yankee teams of the past: the mighty and legendary Babe Ruth; Lou Gehrig, the "Ironman,"; Joe DiMaggio, the "Yankee Clipper," the fiery Billy Martin, the electrifying Casey Stengel, the towering Elston Howard, the record-breaking Roger Maris, the clutch Tony Kubeck, the fire-balling Whitey Ford--against these formidable, haunting giants of the past, how could my pitiful no-name Yankees ever measure up? Well ... they couldn't. There was Horace Clark, who always got thrown out trying to steal second base; Dooley Womack, who gave up one towering home run after another; Gene Michael, who couldn't hit his way out of a paper bag : “Bums! . . . Aachhh." He blamed it all on the owners-CBS Broadcasting. "If they don't spend any money on talent they'll always be a bunch of bums," he would say. And he was right.

            Every now and then we'd be watching a good game and some guy on the other team would make a "grandstand" play and rob one of the pitiful late-60's Yankees of a hit. Gramps would immediately leap to his feet and applaud in exuberant appreciation, totally oblivious to the massed silence. "Oh! What a play! (applauding furiously) Now that's the ticket! What a catch!" He'd carry on while I attempted to shrink, and I'd look up into the gigantic angered throng glaring at us and this insignificant little man clapping for somedude on the other team. And Gramps would just stand there with his jetted-back gray hair, the horn-rimmed glasses caught in the sun, the fine set of upper dentures showing brightly as he smiled: oblivious to it all. There, alone, in the raucous and malevolent cluster of thronged humanity, applauding.

            However, eventually, it became apparent to me that Gramps was on to something. Emerging out of his embarrassing behavior and the vast impenetrable midst of his meandering stories was a great truth: A great performance is a great performance no matter what side it occurs on. "That's how you win ball games, pal. You have to throw caution to the wind! You have to have a little 'chutzpa!'

            What Gramps particularly liked was the way Mantle could play the field, even towards the end when he had lost some of his speed. Much like our own Peter Bourjos of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, unbelievable "circus catches" was was Mickey's forte. Catapulting over the fence to snag a sure home run; leaping, diving, sprawling catches in the dirt to take away yet another extra base hit, and them instantly rising to uncork a perfect 100-foot laser to 2nd for the double play. "That's the ticket!" Gramps would yell, as “the Mick” sprinted deftly into the deep left center alley and robbed Killebrew of a sure base-clearing "double" with an impossible gliding backhanded stab. And we'd both leap up together, clapping, whooping, exultant together in one of the true moments of inspired derring-do achieved by one of the men in pinstripes during those frustrating years.

That's the thing Gramps loved about the Mickey Mantle’s of the world. While others are content to play it safe, let the ball bounce, avoid injury, these guys risk it all by diving headlong into the air like ballpark Baryshnikovs--every fiber, muscle, shred of flesh, bone, and blood straining, stretching, hurtling, reaching out to--YES! Make the catch! Hit the dirt and come up throwing! The crowd on its feet roaring; the man who hit the ball stalled open-mouthed and barely half-way to first; the world and time neatly staked to the bright green turf for a moment, caught in that one instant of "go-for-broke" physical excellence. For Gramps, it didn't matter what team the player was on, or what the people around him thought: after a play like that he would be on his feet applauding, cheering, and gearing up to begin yet another story.

Gramps has been gone now over 25 years. Over those years I have cheered a million great plays by my teams and other teams (as long as it wasn’t Boston), at professional games, and youth baseball and soccer games my kids have been participating in and I have been coaching, sometimes embarrassing my kids just like Gramps did to me. And I laugh to myself as I applaud the player and his epic performance, seeing Gramps again, and thinking, ”You’re right old dude, that IS “the ticket!”

            Here’s to you Gramps!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. But when we are “far from the madding crowd,” to use Thomas Hardy’s phrase, does that make us less “fond,” less fervid in our desire to partake in the things which ignite strong feelings within us, like our passion for our favorite sports teams?

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To be or not to be, that is the fahking question;

Whether it’s noblah in the mind to suffah the slings and arrows of outrageous Halo fan postahs,

Or just realize the season's in the crapppah, and forget about it…

Oh, that this too too sullied flesh could resolve itself into a Mountain Dew

and just get like fahking knocked ovah and be done with.

To die, to sleep,

Perchance to wake up and see one's ol’ lady next to one

and want to die again—fahkin-a, there’s the rub.

0-and-fahkin'-6!!! I don’t think I can have coitus again

with my little bare bodkin.

(Continued after the jump...)

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Aybar should be back soon, and Kendrysssss supposedly will be back beginning of May, maybe... So what does the Soth do with Trumbo and Collaspo upon their return? Though he won’t bat in the .400's for long, it appears that AC is at least back to the quality player he was in Kansas City before the trade and before he suffered injury issues last year. As for Trumbo, well, we knew about his power (36 bombs in Salt Lake last year, and 6 in ST this year), but we may be looking at a more complete hitter and fielder then we assumed he would be, and a player untested in the Major League level rising to levels commiserate with our best hopes. Sure, he hasn’t hit one out yet, but that will come. As Kevin Baxter reports in the LA fishwrap today:

“Known as a free-swinging slugger, Trumbo singled three times—once to each field—stole a base and made a sterling defensive play at first base. ‘I’d like to show people that I’m not just one-dimensional,' said Trumbo, who scored one run and drove in another. ‘I’ve worked really hard at it . . . As I get more opportunity, I think I’ll be able to show some people I can bring a little more to the table than what they might think.’”

Spraying the ball to all fields (BA up to .286), the Trumbomber showed a nice sudden proclivity for smart and polished hitting technique, and being able to handle the outside & away fastballs and breaking balls a bit better than the first 5 games of the season. The long ball will come--especially if pitchers have to throw to him. We all like him, but I think he really opened up our eyes a bit more yesterday.

This dude deserves as many opportunities as he can get this season.

My plan to keep the Mighty Trumbo in the future line-up consistently is below the jump:

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Twas the night after the winter baseball meetings

And all through Halo space

Not a Halo exec was stirring; how would Tony save face?

The deals had been shot down, the best FA's were now toast,

The hopes were on St. Borass, jetting in from the coast.

No Crawford, no Willingham, no Lee, and no Vlad;

Was Reagins just hopeless, or had he been had?

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While we savor the latest Halo victory, geek out over the latest bullpen disaster, ponder Brandon Wood’s future (for the 3 millionth time), delight in the inexplicable explosion of decent PhiSlamma posts, bandy about totally ludicrous trade options (like Oswalt for Nap and Q), root the Lakers on to the Championships, etc., many of us find ourselves distracted by the final episode of Lost. I hope you will cut me some slack for bending HH posting rules (this post is diverging from baseball and sports just a wee bit), and discussing the finale of the show that many posters on HH (I believe) are obsessing about (well, not as much as we our about our bullpen...) . Anyway, what you may not have realized is that many of our favorite Angel players may be obsessing about Lost as well. As WiHalofan said in his wrap-up post on May 21:

“Santana says he concentrated a lot more.  Does that mean sometimes he's out on the mound thinking about the previous night's episode of ‘Lost’?”

 

Yes, we all are thinking and creating our own theories about Lost.  However, I have to admit, my ideas have pretty much gone up in smoke (pun intended) lately.

My theory was that the island was really an ancient alien spacecraft, ensconced in the earth’s crust (sort of like the alien tripod ships buried deep in our planet for centuries, in the film version of War of the Worlds). The “ship” (the island) contains the mega-powerful electromagnetic energy (i.e., “exotic material”), and both the powers of good and evil to test humanity in the hopes of finding in us something redeemable and thus worth saving. At the denouement, our fave castaways will ban together and by that show of group unity, defeat the smoke monster (“old smokie”) and prove humanity is worth saving. We see--in the final scene--a perfect shot of that luminous and luscious Hawaiian coastline and the 4 remaining castaway friends, locked arm in arm . . . fade to green . .

Ok, so much for that.

Anyway, perhaps you would like to share your final theories or questions below. The producers have acknowledged (on Jimmy Kimmel, etc.) that not all questions will be answered. So, yes, 'red herrings'  (unanswered clues and plot developments never explained) may proliferate. (Link).

Here are my Top 10 questions I hope will be answered in the final show:

1. Will John (“Old Smokie”) win and if so, what will happen to humanity?

2. Will Ben take over the island, and if so, will he sell it to Club Med?

3. Will Jack win, and if so, will he use it to grow really sweet cannibas and become a Rasta?

4. Can the Smoke Monster be defeated, and if so, how? (And wouldn't it be cooler if the monster actually

       killed everyone?--the gothic ending)

5. How is Desmond significant and what is he doing in the “parallel universe,” "flash sideways," or whatever it is?

6. What IS the point of that damned parallel universe?

7. Who the hell is that crazy homicidal woman who adopts the two boys, and how did she kill all the

       Island-ers?  (from the episode 2 weeks earlier)

8. Is the island some magical esoteric “realm of spiritual energy” locale as the crazy homicidal woman   

      who adopted the two boys suggests? And is this some sort of a planned subversion of trans-cultural creation

      myths or a last second attempt to add spiritual resonance to the story? Or was it all just Hurley's dream?

      Or, are they in hell, afterall, despite what the producers said originally. Or maybe it IS Gilligan's Island....

9. Who was the hottest babe on the show? Michele Rodriguez or Evangeline Lilly, and why?

10. Did this show ever really make any freaking sense?

Obviously, we are all deeply focused on the success of our current Angels, but I think many of us are interested in how some of our old favorites (and non-favorites) are faring elsewhere, now that we’re almost three full weeks into the season. Here is a breakdown on some of these ex-Halos and their current stats (Through Thursday Apr. 29th):

Vladimir Guerrero: .350 AVG/ .404 OBP/ .488 SLG/ 5 2B/ 2 HR/ 13 RBI / 28 H/ 3 SB/ 80 AB

(Rangers) Vlad has been tearing it up in Texas Stadium, of course: “He has a .540 on-base percentage in the first 12 home games of the season. His home batting average dropped to .489.” (Yahoo))

  (Hideki Matsui: .274 AVG/ .354 OBP/ .488 SLG/ 6 2B/ 4 HR/ 12 RBI/ 7 R / 23 H/ 84 AB     

(for comparison sake) (Godzilla has had several key hits in game-winning situations)

Chone Figgins: .200 AVG/ .337 OBP/ .280 SLG/ 4 2B/ 0 HR/ 15 H/ 7 RBI/ 11 R/ 5 SB/ 17 BB

(Mariners) (“has hit well enough against lefties (.333) but was a woeful 3-for-42 against right-handed pitching before breaking out a little with a single and a two-run triple Wednesday in Kansas City.” (Yahoo))

  (Erick Aybar: .256 AVG/ .337 OBP/ .341 SLG/ 4 2B/ 1 HR/ 21 H/ 4 RBI/ 14 R/ 2 SB/ 10 BB

Casey Kotchman: .264 AVG/ .333 OBP/ .514 SLG/ 7 2B/ 3 HR/ 19 H/ 14 RBI/ 9 R

(Mariners) (Kotch has had a couple of late-inning clutch hits. “Casey Kotchman has now played in 204 consecutive games without having made an error at first base, the second-best stretch ever. The all-time record is held by Kevin Youkilis at 238.” (Yahoo))

Adam Kennedy: .214 AVG/ .281 OBP/ .339 SLG/ 4 2B/ 1 HR/ 10 RBI/ 5 R/ 4 SB

            (Nationals) (AK recently had a game-winning hit; has played both 2nd and 3rd for the Nats)

David Eckstein: .273 AVG/ .317 OBP/ .364 SLG/ 4 2B/ 1 HR/ 6 RBI/ 8 R/ 1 SB

(Padres) (“Eckstein has seven hits in his last 18 at-bats and is proving to be one of the toughest hitters in the majors to strike out. He's fanned just twice in 73 at-bats.”(Yahoo))

Orlando Cabrera: .241 AVG/ .273 OBP/ .354 SLG/ 3 2B/ 2 HR/ 13 RBI/ 10 R/ 2 SB

(Reds) ("He's an RBI man," manager Dusty Baker said of the first-year Red. "Every time he goes up with a guy in scoring position, he says, ‘I love this situation.'" (Yahoo))

Troy Glaus: .200 AVG/ .300 OBP/ .300 SLG/ 1 2B/ 2 HR/ 9 RBI/ 7 R/ 14 H /21 K

(Braves) (“Seemingly lost in the boos was that Glaus hit a two-run homer with two outs in the bottom of the ninth in Tuesday's game to help the Braves rally from a 3-0 deficit for a 4-3 win in 10 innings. The big hit left him with two homers and eight RBIs. The fans were not won over. ‘The fans have a right to boo,’ Glaus said. ‘All I can do is keep doing my work.’" (Yahoo))

Garret Anderson: .122 AVG/ .159 OBP/ .220 SLG/ 1 2B/ 1 HR/ 4 RBI/ 2 R/ only 41 AB

(Dodgers) (“Anderson's part-time role on the Dodgers' bench isn't off to a hot start” (Yahoo))

Jim Edmunds: .298 AVG/ .394 OBP/ .474 SLG/ 7 2B/ 1 HR/ 17 H/ 5 RBI/ 11 R

            (Brewers) (Jimmy injured his back on wed./ Day-to-day)

Gary Matthews Jr.: .167 AVG/ .286 OBP/ .233 SLG/ 2 2B/ 0 HR/ 5 H/ 0 RBI/ 6 R/ 1 SB/ 14 K/ only 30 AB

            (Mets) 

Jose Guillen: .303 /AVG/ .330 OBP/ .607 SLG/ 2 2B/ 7 HR/ 27 H/ 18 RBI/ 14 R/ 1 SB/ 22 K

              (Royals)

Sean Rodriguez: 200 AVG/ .282 OBP/ .314 SLG/ 1 2B/ 1 HR/ 7 H/ 5 RBI/ 6 R/ only 35 AB

(Rays) (“Rodriguez was a spring-training sensation with a .460 average and six homers. During the season, however, he had struggled, entering the game batting .160 with no extra-base hits. That quickly changed Wednesday. He doubled in the third, singled to drive in a run in the fourth and hit a three-run homer in the sixth. "His ability's going to translate in the big leagues," Rays manager Joe Maddon said.” (Yahoo))

John Lackey: 2-1 / 4 GS / 23.0 IP/ 29 H/ 13 ER/ 2 HR/ 9BB/ 11K/ 5.09 ERA/ 1.65 WHIP

(Red Sux) (“Lackey allowed 10 hits in seven innings against the Orioles Saturday but still picked up his second win of the season…Luckily for Lackey, the O's offense was only able to turn those 10 hits into three runs. Lackey's K/9 has fallen to 4.3 this season -- far below his career average of 7.2.” (Yahoo))

       (Joel Pineiro: 2-2/ 4 GS/ 26.1 IP/ 30 H/ 10 ER/ 1 HR/ 4BB/ 15K/ 3.42 ERA/ 1.29 WHIP)

Francisco Rodriguez: 1-0/ 10 G/ 12.2 IP/ 11 H/ 1 ER/ 1 HR/ 7BB/ 16K/ 3 SV/ 1 BS/ 0.82 ERA/ 1.22 WHIP

               (Mets)

Ramon Ortiz: 0-1 / 10 G / 23.0 IP/ 29 H/ 13 ER/ 2 HR/ 8BB/ 7K/ 6.39 ERA/ .250 WHIP

                (Dodgers)

Now that the spring season has begun and we are all rellishing the Angel’s awesome 0-2-1 start, I thought I would offer some of the lesser known tips for "newbies" to assist them in acclimating themselves to this stellar blogland.

I know what you're thinking (beside another lame post from Rdad): how can a "new guy" have the affrontery to tell other new dudes (and dudettes) about Halos Heaven? Well, as a new guy (2009 or later) on HH, I have recent experience in how to screw up things, in not understanding anything, and in generally not knowing what the hell I’m doing, that most of you "old-timers" have forgotten (like how easy it is to not to reply correctly...)

So here are the Top 10 Tips followed by a fairly pertinent poll:

Tip 1: The original March 2008 Contingent (that's when the profiles show most of these guys started with Halo Heaven) that launched this Halos Heaven deal think they know everything and control everything.
This is true actually. They do. Remember: they don’t give a flying f..k what we newbies have to say, but keep us around for their own amusement, to snigger at our lameness, to use us as their little bitches: like Dracula and Renfield, like the mad King and Hop Frog, like Shaun and his zombie friend, like the evil Queen and Kronk. (Ok, there's nor real "contingent," and I'm just kidding--most of these dudes have been very cool with me and I don't want to make it seem like they're assholes)

Tip 2: The legendary Rev Halofan may not make any comments during a game thread, so be prepared.
I noticed this phenomena after the first ST game thread, when we were sort of feeling let down and not just because of the tie. Suddenly Son of Raaddad piped up and said: "Hey, no comments by Rev!" It was true; other than "And that’s the ballgame," when the last pitch was thrown, Rev offered nothing. Frankly, this is an outrage. After all the money I paid (the check is in the mail, btw), I expected the usual salty Rev-ish quips spangling the game thread, offsetting the obligatory weak ones by myself and others. It did not occur, and there you go…As Mick would say: You can’t always get what you want.

Tip 3: You fuck it up, you’re fucked. (There goes my f-word alotment for the year).
For instance,  Don’t ever go on and on about what a great writer you are and tell us that the Halos will finish last, and the mariners will win 100 games, and how we blew it not signing Benedict Lackey, and all that kind of bullshit. You will be Banned, and thus relegated to the Damned, the dungheap, the shitstream; in other words, back to Chowdah-land for you….

Tip 4: Lame Posts.
Sorry, but Nate and I already used up the quota for God-awful "Newbie" posts this season. For me, it was the "Lindsay Vonn for Halo Hottie" one, and for Nate it was the recent bomb: "Robin Wiiliams Demonstrates how Jack Z Put Together the Mariners [using Spore fugures] ". As Nate’s example shows: no one is perfect.

Tip 5: Don’t use the word "racist." It tends to get a little crazy around here I noticed when that happens, and guys like Phi Slamma go a little bonkers.

Tip #6: Yes, Wihalofan’s "Comics" are brilliant. Just sit back and enjoy and maybe pray that there are more coming to lighten up your wretched little life. 

Tip #7: The other editors besides Rghan may not actually exist, and if they do, where are they hiding? Rhgan is like the Yoda of the blogosphere…but these other folks are very illusive. Very occasionally one will pipe in with a clever dissing of someone; another will suddenly reappear in Japan momentarily, and then: "the rest is silence". Like Howard Hughes, Thomas Pynchon, my wife on "sex night," they rarely make an appearance…(though this will change when we get back to the regular season, I'm told)

Tip #8: Face it: we’ll never understand most of the inside jokes.
As a matter of fact, most of the legendary March 2008 Contingent that create these jokes don’t understand them either…

Tip #9: These guys really dig stats.
If you want to really make a significant contribution and "make your mark," (as PhiSlamma so aptly put it one time in the midst of insulting yet another poor post of mine), dig dig dig dig on the internet until you find some interesting statistics that may enlighten some important element of the game, such as just how long does it take Q to get from first-to-third on a single and has there been anyone slower in the history of baseball. Coming up with new acronyms for statistical categories that no normal person understands is also a good idea and can be very impressive.

Tip 10: For an idea of how to achieve greatness, how you too can be brilliant and clever (even if it means ripping off someone else), you may want to read this: Linkie

Now that my "Bring Back Hud" post was so hugely successful (not...), I had another brilliant idea I'd like to share with you all and get your feedback to see if it's worth pursuing. I think we need to start a new tradition as part of our Angels "Tradition" motif this year, and that is to a select and hire an appropriate female icon to represent our team as the Halo Angel. (though you might prefer Halo Hottie). She will be our "poster girl," our muse, our home game and international ambassador of good will, and will represent the kinds of attributes we value as Angels fans: sportsmanship, being a champion, athleticism, courage, friendliness, intelligence, and of course, beauty. I hereby nominate Lindsay Vonn for this year's Halo Angel. She is friendly, articulate, fun and funny, courageous (skiing frequently with nagging injuries), a champion many times over--including one Gold Medal in the 2010 Olympics already in a totally dominating performance though injured, extremely athletic (she works out harder than anyone on the circuit they say), intelligent, and I think you'll agree, fairly attractive. The following link illustrates some of her finer qualities:  Lindsay Vonn.

I know she is not involved in the sport of baseball, but, that's, ok. She certainly would look fine hanging out at the stadium in faded blue jeans and one of those retro white Angels jerseys so many of our fine female Angels fans  wear to the games with the red lettering. I think this outfit --Lindsay Vonn--would also look good, but perhaps with "A's" embroidered throughout.

Her activities as Halo Angel might include hanging with the broadcast boys from time to time, appearing in Rally Monkey videos, greeting season ticket holders and Halo Heaven contributors on occasion, and perhaps shooting out t-shirts to the fans with one of those little airguns. Traveling like she does all over the world, she can bring all that is Halo-ness to the good people in foreign countries, casting a brilliant Halo spell internationally. I could even see that with the right financial incentive, a new attractive downhill outfit could be devised featuring a stark red ski suit emblazoned with Godzilla on her lovely backside. Maybe even something like this--Lindsay again--but with a little more red to it. I don't know, I'm not a big fashion person--our editorial staff appears to be more knowledgeable about such things.

Finally, and I hope  all of this isn't viewed as yet another "waste of pixels" (like most of my work here), but I think we should give her an Honorary Membership in Halo Heaven and bring her into the warm embrace of our collective bosom. Thank you for your time and patience, but I feel rather strongly in many ways about this issue.

It may be too late. You’ll probably never see this letter anyway, or read it cause it’s just too damn long. And I know I don’t speak for all Angel fans, Mr. Moreno, sir. Or for perhaps even the majority of Halo Heaven faithful. Still, I can’t live with myself without making a last gasp do-or-die desparation plea on behalf of the millions of us who love Rex Hudler, to please consider bringing back our much-loved "Wonderdog" in some capacity as part of the Angels baseball coverage.

There are many reasons to bring back Hud:

• He’s a colorful legendary representative of the Angels; like one of the Halo Heaven bloggers says below: he is our “popular face/voice.” No, he’s not Vin Scully, but he offers a unique perspective that is equally compelling: he personifies baseball from the perspective of a seasoned player, a man who was a good guy and a fun guy on the bench for many clubs for which he played in his long colorful career, and he knows Angels baseball. He knows the game; not in a grandfatherly Vin Scully here’s-what-happened-in-1952-that-I-saw-from-this-booth way, but in a I-was-there-playing-that-game-with-that-guy-and-Man!-you-should-have-seen-it, Gubi” way, and in a “folks, let me tell you how you make that play” way. More than anyone, Hud can break down the dynamics of a swing, of a catch, of a baserunning situation, of a series of fielding plays in a concise insightful manner; and he can make you really visualize what happened. He brings verisimilitude to the broadcast booth like never before. In addition, he has a cool, witty, wacky, iconic way of phrasing things, like when he used to say: “The kingfish has gone upstream,” after Timmy Salmon went ‘yard.’ Or, “You could hang a week’s worth of laundry on that line drive out of here.” Also, his ability for creating cool nicknames that 'stick' is renown, such as “Gubi,” “Josey,” “King Fish,” “Big Daddy Vladdy,” "Mighty Maicer," etc.
• He brings a festive upbeat persona to the broadcast—Hud is always positive. I don’t know how many times I’ve gotten motivated just listening to Hud excitedly uttering things like, “Oh man! Tori Hunter is getting me all pumped up!” We can always count on the Wonderdug, with his trusty baseball in hand, his white lip-balmed lips, his rad red hair, his funky throwback costumes and wigs, to get us cheered up and in the mood for baseball, and--yes, my friend--for life.
• Frankly, he’s good at what he does—let’s get to the point: he just won 2 major broadcasting awards for the excellence of his broadcasting, Mr. Moreno. As reported in the LA Times: “Rex Hudler received two awards from the Southern California Sports Broadcasters (SCSB) on Monday, including radio analyst of the year and tied with Los Angeles Kings announcer Jim Fox for television analyst of the year.”
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/sports_blog/2010/02/rex-hudler-jim-hill-broadcast-awards.html
• He’s a wonderful human being. Everyone who has met him loves him. In addition, he gives back to the community in many great ways—particularly with his work with Down Syndrome (“Up Syndrome!”) kids. He atternds charity events reguarly and always gives back to the fans, including his zest in signing autographs and dispensing advice to young people. As he says, "It's important to sign autographs. It's all about you--the fans" (from Sothball's "The Gospel According to Rex")
         http://www.halosheaven.com/2009/3/28/814013/the-gospel-according-to-re
• He’s popular. Yes, there are those generally ‘old school’ fans who don’t appreciate Hud (even one of our beloved editors and site creators is not a fan), but there are so many that do (the Poll as of 2/6 shows 90% would like to see his return). Below is a collection of recent and archival praise from Halo Heaven and other sources, a small glimpse of Hudolatry:

-"Rex is truly a [...] great gift to Angel fans. He took a lot of time to talk--from the heart--to lots of people, especially the younger fans." ("Sothball" from his post "The Gospel According to Rex" in Halos Heaven)

-"I really, really, really, REALLY hope they bring him back.And not just because of these awards. The man deserves to stay with the organization he’s given nearly everything to, even if it’s in a reduced role. Bring him back, Fox."      ("Clutch" from Halo Heaven)

-“Maybe now the Angels will look at bringing him back, even if it’s just for the postgame with BillyMac.”

(“Red Floyd” from HH, after hearing of Hud’s awards yesterday)

 -"Hud is an entertainer. And in the end I suppose that’s what baseball is, entertainment. Just ask the people I get into salary cap/floor arguments with. I enjoyed watching him because he made me laugh during his broadcasts and sometimes made me yell at him to shut up. Either way, he was part of what kept me into the games and made it feel like “home.” He made the telecasts fun. His personality reminds me of Torii Hunter in some ways!”   ("Commander Nate" from HaloHeaven)    

-"Rex was awesome. Boycott broadcasts until they get the message"  ("Brokenyard"/ HH)                                                                                                             

-"I’d be down with that [bringing Hud back]; especially to hear Hud call Mota HOSEY” over and over again. It’d be quite  funny."   (Downing Rules/HH)   

  -”I agree with you” (“Wumbug” from HH)                                                                              

 -“Hud was hud…But He Was Our Hud. I know 90% of the FO didn’t like Hud, but WE the so-called “fan strong” did…” (“Funke5ive” from HH)

 -”Hud is freaking awesome!” (a friend and season ticket holder)                                             

 -”Bring him back!” (“aNewFoundThrice” from HH)                                                                

 - “No Hud? No Lackey? No Vlad? Sadly and tragically, No Rory Markas? COME ON! Let’s keep some a semblence of continuity around here. Bring back the Wonder Dog” 

 (“LazorkoRules” from HH)                                                                                                     

 -”I love Hud! He’s a riot!” (a really hot female Angel fan I met at the stadium last year)            

 -”Hud was OK, but a little too zany for me…but with Rory gone, and the LA Times story about Hud falling on hard times, it’s time to show some compassion and bring him back…I mean, it’s baseball–not brain surgery…he needs a gig–we need a popular face/voice, and it makes perfect sense…bring ’em back, Arte!”

(“Halopauly” from HH)                                 

 -”I too am crushed by the whole Hud thing.  My son and I love listening to his commentary, and we laugh a lot together at his colorful phrases.  I signed a petition a while back to bring him back.”

(Another season ticket-holder friend of mine)                         

  -“Hud was my favorite by far. Sure he messed up sometimes, but his pure enthusiasm can’t be matched. Great to see he’s recognized.” (“TheKingfish” from HH)        

 -”He’s cool. He helps make baseball exciting, and he isn’t annoying like many broadcasters out there]” 

(My 13-year-old son)   

-"Hudler brought passion, enthsuiasm, humor, and IMO a decent amount of behind the scenes baseball knowledge. Maybe he catered to the younger audience a little too much, but it was tempered with anecdotes and analysis that could’ve only come from someone who lived the game." ("Tolbs1010" HH)

 http://www.halosheaven.com/2010/2/3/1291244/hudler-wins-two-bradcasters-awards

http://www.halosheaven.com/2010/1/29/1283444/rex-hudler-not-doing-so-well

• His presence in Halo-land could be worked-out easily in a variety of ways. If you and the rest of the FO are that enamored with Jose Mota (not sure why, really—to do the interviews with Spanish-speaking players?) and Mark Gubiza, and none of them (including Hud) can do play-by-play, I offer the following, which I call the Raaddad plan. This plan is merely a follow-up to last season’s sort of round-robin announcer approach. You treat Hud much like the way Mike Scoscia has used Figgy and Maicer Izturis on the field: you let him do a variety of things and have him substitute for other guys on occasion. For instance, you could continue combining Hud with Bill McDonald on the after game show (as Red Floyd suggested above), have him share the interviews with Senor Mota, and let him make appearances on both radio and televison during the broadcast to discuss the game and add his commentary to the broadcast,as well as fill in for guys missing games, etc. You could have specialized segments entitled ‘Wonderdog at the Park”, or something. And he could continue doing shows with Jeff Biggs on AM 830. I would prefer him as the full-time color announcer paired with Terry Smith, but, if that’s not in the cards, then what I offer is an obvious compriomise—and you really wouldn’t need to pay him all that much. I mean, just the sale of Budweisers at the stadium for a few weeks to Halo Heaven blog contributers would probably cover his salary (and be sort of fitting, in a way.)
• and, finally, We should do it for the memory of Rory Markus and because it’s the right thing to do: I believe Rory would be happy that we brought back his old friend and colleague, Rex Hudler. If there was one thing we could do for Rory, and to honor his time with the Angels community, it would be to cut his former broadcast buddy some slack, and rehire Wonderdog back.

Mr. Moreno, I’ve been a staunch fan of the Angeles for 29 years, and I can say that you’ve done a great job since taking over the franchise. You’ve lent balance and dignity to the team, you’ve retained and encouraged the best manager in baseball, you’ve fostered a dynamic and cross-cultural work environment, you’ve kept prices down while adding millions to the payroll, you’ve worked your damnest to keep things fun yet still get us to the Series; you’ve even kept the silly things going—like the Rally Monkey, the fireworks, the thundersticks. I know I don’t speak for all, as the voting below will show, but I speak for many--the young, the young-at-heart, the Orange county wave surfers, the LA county net surfers, the ones far away who still listen and watch and feel they’re back at home for a minute when they hear his voice, those who are passionate, those who like to dwell in and learn about the intricasies of playing the game from a multi-dimensional ex-player, and those who want to lend their support to a great guy—when I say: “Please, sir, Bring Back Hud!"

As we read and argue about predictions sabermetricians and others have made about the Halos this year based on varying statistical analyses, you have to wonder about, well,  intangibles. When statistics and past performances dictate one logical eventuality, and yet we see Palmer win 10 games, Morales blow away all expectations, Vlad’s game-winning hit against Papelbon and the Sox in the playoffs, Mathis parking one against the Yanks, the Angels winning the division (again), or go back to Spezio’s lazy high fly somehow finding the seats in 2002—the list is enormous. Some would call it . . . magic. Whatever you call it, it’s certainly part of what makes baseball exciting and a big component of what we enjoy about watching films and reading books about the sport: the sense of the unknown, the sense that on any given day, anything can happen. Adam Kennedy can hit 3 bombs in one playoff game.

There is, of course, dramatic magic in many sports and in many sports movies. Perhaps the best sports film or text with this theme is not about baseball, but the hockey film Miracle. Second might be a basketball film, Hoosiers. But baseball films virtually corner the market on the the sense of preternatural magic that informs the story, that sets up the plot. From the goofy light-weight supernatural nature of Angels in the Outfield, to the magical realism of The Natural and Field of Dreams (both based on excellent novels), baseball texts/stories/films have become the legendary vehicles for conveying a magical sensibility inherent in a sport still intensely endemic to the American experience. In Field of Dreams, the ghosts of villified and legendary players return to redeem themselves in proving their love of the game—if you build it they will come…In The Natural, there is Roy Hobbs’ collosal game-winning smash that strikes the light tower, which erupts in a cascade of sparks, like a glittering electric snowstorm. But beyond the spectacular, what I enjoy about The Natural, is how it illuminates many of the sacred symbolic idioscyncrasies of the game, like (in the film) the connection the batboy has with Roy Hobbs, which testifies to the special connection between adult players, the youngsters who revere them, and the youngster those who love the game harbor inside. There is also a sense of magic in the way the artistic text itself conveys the iconic moment: Hobbs heroically and stoically rounding the bases framed in the fragments of falling light. But the novel of 1952 resonates the most with me, as when author Bernard Malamud poetically captures that which is magical in the most basic moment of baseball: the confrontation between pitcher and batter. It is early in the novel and the youthful unknown hayseed Roy Hobbs takes on the legendary Big Whammer in an impromtu duel to the delight of all attending a small hacktown carnival. With two strikes on the big man, and fueled by his anger over Whammer’s braggardry, Hobbs “raised his leg” and hurls:

   “The third ball slithered at the batter like a meteor, the flame swallowing itself. He lifted his club to crush it into a universe of sparks but the heavy wood dragged, and though he willed to destroy the sound he heard a gong bong and realized with sadness that the ball he had expected to hit had long since been part of the past; and though Max could not cough the fatal word out of his throat, the Whammer understood he was, in the truest sense of it, out.

    The crowd was silent as the violet evening fell on their shoulders.”(30)

More than just the intensity of this sort of uber confrontation, man vs.man, the almost Bushido code sensibility of the American warrior doing battle with bat and ball, there is the beauty and lyricism of the writing and how it conveys more than just the stark realism of the duel, but something that effects us in a deeper way about baseball, something . . . well . . . magical.

 

.

 In Memory of Rory Markas,

In Honor of our best game since 2002,

and with Apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Beantown nine that day,

They dropped two out in Anaheim and now they’re home to play.

A loss today against L.A. would seal the Red Sox’ fate;

No dreaded Yanks, no Bahston thanks, no sacred Series date.

But Pedroia doubled in the 3rd, A-Go and Jacoby scored,

The hometown crowd got really loud, as their troubled spirits soared.

And when J.D. Drew, in the 4th, blasted a two-run bomb,

The sea of blue in Fenway Park began to chill and calm;

For they knew Mighty Papelbon would finish off the game—

The playoffs would turn Beantown’s way, the Angels put to shame.

But Morales launched one in the 4th; Torii scored on a ground-out,

And in the 8th Abreu doubled, that hated ex-Yankee lout.

In the ancient land of Chowdah, things were suddenly looking shady;

A plastered red-nosed fan, unshowered, said, "At least we have Tom Brady…"

Then from 10,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;

It rumbled past the Monster, it rattled through the smell

Of over-flowing Budweisers, that boisterous chowd-laced sound.

For Jonathan, Johnny Papelbon, was advancing to the mound.

There was ease in Johnny’s manner as he stepped up to his place,

There was arrogance in Johnny’s bearing, a smirk on Johnny’s face,

And when, responding to the cheers, he hocked into the ground,

No stranger in the crowd could doubt ‘twas Johnny on the mound.

Ten million eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt,

Ten thousand fans put down their bowls, wiped chowdah from their shirts.

Then while the annoyed batter rested the bat upon his hip,

Defiance gleamed in Johnny’s eye, a sneer curled Johnny’s lip.

And now the cowhide-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,

And Johnny stood a-watchin it in haughty grandeur there.

But Rivera knocked it in the gap, and two runs came in to score.

Still no one stopped to worry then, and some began to snore.

The inning over, then came the 9th—two outs were soon recorded,

Then Erick Aybar singled—as pesky as reported.

And Figgy with his goofy grin, he worked the count up high.

"Ball four!" the ump let out a yell, a split-finger whizzing by.

From the benches, bleak with people, there went up a muffled roar,

It went on through Abreu’s at-bat and seemed to auger more:

"Kill the ump! Kill the ump!" shouted everyone in the stands,

And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Johnny raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity, Papelbon’s visage shown;

He reared back and threw the next pitch, ignoring cagey Chone.

But Abreu hit it off the wall, a "smack" heard round the planet.

In his suite, Theo dropped his spoon, his mouth full, spluttered, "Dammit!"

Torii Hunter came up to bat, but had Francona smoked a fatty?

He signaled for an intentional walk—he’d rather throw to Vladdy!

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, while the scoreboard begged: "Applaud!"

But one scornful look from Johnny and the audience was awed.

They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,

They knew that Johhny always struck Vlad out and would strike him out again.

The sneer is still on Johnny’s lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;

He glares with cruel intensity at the Halo at the plate.

Two runs are in, still up by one, but Angels at every base.

Vlad waves his bat, he’s ready to hack, a smile on his face.

And now great Johnny holds the ball and now he lets it fly,

And now the air is smattered by the two-seamer blazing high.

Big Daddy swung a gnarly swing, and when the swing was done,

The ball blooped into centerfield: Bobby scored the winning run!

Oh! Somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

A rock band’s playing somewhere and somewhere hearts are light,

And somewhere folks are laughing and somewhere the kids all shout;

But there is no joy in Beanville—Johnny Popelbon was knocked out.

"And the Angels have just knocked out the Red Sox…Just another Halo victory!"

(Rest in peace Rory, and thanks…)