Angels 2, Red Sox 0.

Final Score of Game Two: Angels 4, Red Sox 1.

As important as winning game one on Thursday night was to the Angels, winning game two on Friday, against Josh Beckett, was double that. No, triple that. OK, quadruple that. We had to win game two. Just had to. Going away, into game three up 2-0 in a best-of-5 series is eons different than going into game three all square at 1-1. The confidence, the motivation, the excitement, the optimism, everything just seems to work in your favor when you're up 2-0.

The list of teams who have come back from a game one loss to win a five-game series is relatively long. The list of teams who've come back from an 0-2 deficit to win a five-game series is much shorter. Four, to be exact.

Winning the first game of this '09 ALDS got the nagging postseason monkey off our back. We had finally beaten the Red Sox in October. Our celebrated starting pitching finally showed up when needed and stifled a once potent line-up to the tune of four hits and zero runs. Our emotionally-jacked, indispensable center fielder came through with the clutch hit we'd been missing since 2002. And our bullpen didn't surrender the five-run lead, which, isn't always a given. Yep, game one had everything you could ask for in a postseason victory. The theatrics, the pitching, the atmosphere, the timely hitting, everything. But we didn't come this far just to prove we could win one lousy game against the Red Sox. That'd be preposterous.

Well, with game one in the rearview mirror, last night's contest would ultimately be the defining game of this series. Either we'd be heading into Boston with a seemingly-insurmountable 2-0 series lead, or we'd be landing in Boston demoralized with a two-game, home split. In other words, either we were going to put the Red Sox out of their misery in Boston, or come back to Anaheim for an electrifying game five.

The emotional contrast between the two scenarios cannot be downplayed here. At all. Not with this specific Angels team. And certainly not with these more-than-capable opponents. Had we lost game two and left Southern California tied 1-1, the collective optimism in the clubhouse would certainly be bleak. At least for the time being. The overall sentiment on the cross-country plane ride to Massachusetts would be as low as that of a DMV walk-in line. Or a WNBA game. Something bad like that.

(What do I mean? Well, you can only predict everyone on the team [following a crushing game 2 loss] would begin questioning their current situations and contracts while secretly planning for the imminent offseason. Figgins would suddenly realize he's being extremely underpaid and hire super agent Scott Boras immediately leading to a "Jon and Kate" like separation from the Angels. Vlad would finally realize what every Angels fan realized half way through the season, that he's in the twilight of his career, his body's breaking down, he swings at too many bad pitches in big spots, and would probably be best served finding some real estate in New York or Boston. Napoli would start devising ways to "Nancy Kerrigan" Jeff Mathis in Spring Training to get his rightful amount of playing time. Lackey would start envisioning a life in pinstripes. Howie would finally see how hilariously bad all the "Howard's TV and Appliances" commercials are. Ron Roenicke would be polishing his resume for the Washington Nationals managerial position. And Scioscia would be trying to figure out which player let one rip in the clubhouse the night before.

Everything would be all screwy. It just wouldn't be a team, at that point. It'd be a collection of individuals. Self-served players forced together by a common job. Like the Yankees.)

Instead, we're heading to Boston up two games to nil with a plane full of guys who are hell bent on sweeping the Sox in Fenway - offseason issues on the backburner. Quite a difference.

Last night's victory all but assured us a berth in the American League Championship Series for the first time since 2004. Our pitching over the last two games has been dominant. Simply, dominant. LeBron James 2007 Game Five Eastern Conference Finals dominant. They say pitching, much like defense, wins come playoff time, well, we finally have some. Finally.

Thursday, Lackey's 4-hit gem guaranteed him the huge paycheck he's sought for the last two years (whether it's from the Angels or someone else, we'll just have to stay tuned). Friday, Weaver one upped Big John, tossing a two-hit, diamond of a game. TWO HITS!!! Boston scored the third most runs of any team this season and Weaver held them to two hits and one run. There's nothing fluky about those mind-boggling numbers. Those are solid, big game numbers reserved for the greatest pitchers to ever play in October. And we had back-to-back mind-blowing performances. Remarkable.

Now, as the series shifts to Boston, everybody has all but predicted an Angels sweep. In prior seasons, I'd be throwing my remote through the TV and searching for a mammoth sequoia to knock on. But not this year. Not with this team. From Opening Day, this season has just felt different. There's no panic with this team. Led by future manager Torii Hunter and a slew of pesky, undervalued speedsters who routinely reek havoc on opposing pitchers, we've been able to avoid the huge, demoralizing letdown all season.

Then again, is that a good thing or a bad thing? We'll have to wait and see.

Angels 1, Red Sox 0.

Final Score of Game One: Angels 5, Red Sox 0.

Isn't it amazing how one, seemingly effortless swing of the bat can erase 23 years of mind-boggling misery?

Well, that's exactly what Big-Game Hunter's 5th inning, 3-run home run in the opening game of the 2009 American League Division Series did for the Angels Thursday night. As the ball cut through the thick marine layer sheltering Angel Stadium on a cold yet electrifying October night, a jacked Hunter flipped his bat damn near to the moon in jovial celebration. He knew. That ball wasn't coming back. The poor ball cleared the center field fence by a good 20-feet and damn near put another hole in the center field rocks. As soon as the ball cleared the fence the sell-out crowd erupted - erupted!!! - in unison. I'm pretty certain in a span of five minutes we set the unofficial record for most awkward high-fives and Monster energy drink spills. I'll have to check on that. I'll get back to you later.

For once, if only for a couple seconds, everyone in attendance and every Angels fan watching at home forgot we owe Gary Matthews Jr. $9 million this year and another $10 million next year. Man, what a feeling.

Finally, we had something to cheer about. My god, after years of constant year-end disappointment, we had something to celebrate. For those of you who still think I'm talking about Matthews Jr.'s three-year Angels career, I'm not. Well, not entirely.

Add a timely RBI single by Angels-superstar-in-the-making Kendry Morales, accompanied by a Jason Bay throwing error and you have yourselves an impressive 5-0 victory and a 1-0 series lead. Finally, a lead in something other than the American League West. Finally.

As Torii's mammoth shot skied over the center field fence it was like Andre the Giant weight was lifted off everyone's shoulders; players, coaches, fans, vendors, Rex Hudler, everyone could finally take a sigh of relief. We could finally feel good about our World Series chances again, regardless of opponent. The Angels, at least for one night, made the Red Sox look vulnerable. We chipped away at their ace and consistently put pressure on their crummy defense. Over the course of the game the Red Sox committed silly errors and made uncharacteristic mental mistakes. This was the team that has routinely knocked us out of the playoffs every year? Couldn't be. Same jerseys, different team.

Sure it was only one game, but we HAD to win it. Sure it was a game we were supposed to win, but we HAD to win it. Sure a couple botched calls (most notably by the first-base umpire, C.B. [wait for it] ... Bucknor) went the Angels' way, but we still HAD to win the damn game.

On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being "If we don't win this game we're toast," this game hovered somewhere around the upper 600s. We had to find a way to win, we just had to. Had the Red Sox come into Anaheim and beaten us in another game one for the second consecutive year, we'd be cooked, 97 wins down the toilet. Every media outlet in the western hemisphere would be chalking up another humiliating Boston sweep and steadily preparing for another Yankees-Red Sox American League Championship Series.

Well, courtesy of John "I never do well against the Red Sox in the postseason, or really ever" Lackey's 4-hit gem, the Angels are now only two victories away from getting the King Kong sized monkey off their collective backs. Seriously, whatever you do, please don't downplay the importance of this victory. We needed this game more than anything. Had we lost this game, on this night, with this team, we may have never beaten Boston in the playoffs again. Like, ever.

With 45,000-plus rocking Angel Stadium Thursday night the Halos couldn't have asked for a better atmosphere to begin their 2009 World Series run. From the second the Angels took the field you could tell there was something different about this team, something special. Though most of the key players from the disappointing '07 and '08 teams still remain fundamental parts of this squad, this 'o9 version boasts off-the-chart chemistry and an unmistakable swagger. And if you don't think chemistry is important in baseball, particularly playoff baseball, you're crazy. Or a Yankees fan. Whichever one.

In the days leading to the postseason, when it was clear we were going to play the Red Sox in the ALDS for the third consecutive year, the media predictably and relentlessly beat the "The Red Sox have the Angels' number" angle into the ground. But rightfully so. History speaks for itself. You can't hide from the facts. There's no getting around it, we've sucked come October. Like Michael Lohan sucks being a father, but even worse.

Heading into the '09 ALDS, the Angels had only beaten the Sox once in their last ten playoff match-ups. Brutal. Wile E. Coyote numbers. But that's the great thing about sports, there's always next year. As Danny O'Shea preached, "And even if those Red Sox are better than you guys, even if they beat you 99 times out of 100, that still leaves ..." Yep, one time. (Note: O'Shea really said "Cowboys" in that speech, not Red Sox. But you get the point.)

Anyway, like I was saying, everything seemed to disappear when we took the field Thursday night. All the negativity, gone. All the pessimism, gone. David Ortiz's steroid supplement, gone. It was evident this particular Angels team wasn't paying any attention to all the "These guys can't beat the Red Sox come October" crap.

For once, we looked as if we were having a little bit of fun out there. Enjoying ourselves, even. You know, like baseball was a game meant to encourage fun. Whatever it was, we took the field as a collective bunch of kids primed to erase the past.

And with Torii's 3-run bomb and subsequent unforgettable, "Top 10 Most Pumped Home Run Celebrations Ever" helmet slam, we did. Once and for all. Well, until game two.

(Sidenote: Watching the game on TBS is horrible. Just godawful. The run-of-the-mill announcers carried this monotone pitch all game. It not only weakened the broadcast as a whole, it damn near lulled me to sleep. Good for a locally televised Pirates-Nationals late-August game, not good for a nationally televised Red Sox-Angels October playoff game. Come on guys, I know if you had your choice you'd be in New York or Los Angeles, but at least give the home fans some flavor. Some pizzaz. Something!!!)

The Nature of the Game

"Business? It's quite simple. It's other people's money."
-Alexandre Dumas


I would never wish bodily harm on anyone - well, except maybe Mark - but when I traded Ryan Zimmerman, Manny Ramirez, Brad Hawpe, Jermaine Dye and others, I wanted to see each one of those guys shred every important muscle in their knee, Shaun Livingston-esque. When I dropped Jason Kubel, Adam Lind, Brian McCann and Miguel Tejada, something inside of me wished they'd get pulled over at 3 a.m. with two hookers, 5 kilos of coke (the drug Thomas, not the soda), and T.I. artillery in their Cadillac Escalade. Harsh, I know, but fantasy baseball does that to you.

It goes the same for every owner in every fantasy league known to man, when you trade/drop a player you intently wish to see their name scroll along the bottom of Sportscenter followed by an "out for the season," "is facing criminal gun charges" or "the dumbass shot himself" exclamation. That twisted feeling isn't generated because you have a personal grudge against them or anything, it's just fear of colliding with the worst feeling in fantasy sports. That fear? Watching a player who absolutely flatlined on your team resurrect his season on a different one.

Then again, there's no better feeling in fantasy baseball than trading away one of your best players only to find out the next day he was caught trying to get pregnant. It's glorious and mind-numbingly hilarious at the same time. It's like nailing a game-winning three pointer, hitting a walk-off homer, catching a game-winning touchdown and landing a crisp knife edge chop on your best friend, all rolled into one. If anything calls for a Tiger Fist Pump, it's that. Well, that and watching Mark self-destruct on the golf course.

But in the world of fantasy it's not all lollipops, gumdrops and rainbows. Sometimes players don't land on the DL or take maternity leaves. Oftentimes, like fine wine, players only get better with time. That's good and all, but unfortunately none of us are patient enough to sit through five consecutive 0-4 3K, "{insert player's name} you motherf*****!!!!!" games. Patience may be a virtue, but immediate productivity is an necessity.

Throughout the course of the season, we've all accepted our players for their strengths and weaknesses. By now, we've all come to realize that most players - with the exception of Albert and Hanley - are only good for two or three categories. For instance, if there was a Celebrity Women fantasy league with multiple categories including "most men dated" and "longest relationship," we all know Kate Hudson or Jennifer Aniston would help us excel in the "most men dated" category but kill us in the "longest relationship" one. It's just the way it is in fantasy sports. You just have to accept it.

With 50 or so games left in the major league baseball season I've released and traded my fair share of quality players. One thing is certain, no matter how healthy I look in the standings I will never lose the desire to see them all at one point or another limp around second or take a fastball off the chin.

It's nothing personal, it's just business.

A Reverse Jinx For The Ages

Let me make this painstakingly clear: the Angels are NOT -- I repeat -- NOT going to win the World Series.

Oh sure we've scored about a billion runs since the All-Star Break but look at our favorable schedule: four against the A's and Royals, seven against the Twins, and three against the Indians. Come on, that schedule is softer than a freshly-drafted 7 foot European center. Benny Rodriguez' squad could've taken three of four from each of those teams. Just wait till we play the Yankees, Red Sox, and Tigers, you'll see. We simply don't belong. We're just not championship material.

I'll admit it, we're playing more than 50% of our games against inferior American League West teams who seem to switch managers every other year. When it comes to competition, this division is as competitive as a Clippers-Grizzlies game. The only time the Rangers were taken seriously was when Josh Hamilton was hitting moonshots at last year's Home Run Derby, the Mariners are well, the Mariners, and Billy Beane hosts an annual outdoor swap meet at every trade deadline. Needless to say, the Angels have it made. Winning this sorry division is cake. The reality is we wouldn't be the 3rd best team in the AL East.

Sure we have the second best record in the majors, but when it comes down to it we're not even the best team in Los Angeles. Just down the 5 Freeway the Dodgers are the talk of the town, and why not? They have Manny, Scully and Torre; we have Abreu, Hudler and Scioscia. Wouldn't you be talking about the Dodgers too? They're pining for their 7th World Series Championship, we're gunning for our 2nd (Keep in mind, they've been around since 1883 when there were less teams and no parity). Of course division titles don't mean squat so I'm not even going to mention that we're on our way to our 5th division title in six years. The fact of the matter is, the Dodgers don't even hang division title banners (For good reason, they've only won the awful NL West three times since 1988).

(To get back to the year 1883 for a second. The president? Chester A. Arthur. World War I hadn't begun yet. Football had just modified their scoring system: four points for a touchdown and five for a field goal. The radio hadn't even been invented yet. What am I getting at? Of course the Dodgers should have more World Series titles than the Angels, a team that was established in 1961. Stop hiding behind your titles Dodgers fans. Let Yankees fans be the face of ignorance. You haven't been good for a long time. It's ok, it happens. Nobody is taking away your seven titles anytime soon.)

In the end, we are to the Dodgers what the Clippers are to the Lakers. We play in the same city, share the same name, but when it comes to history the Angels can't hold a candle to the Boys in Blue. So let's just avoid entertaining the possibility of a Freeway Series. If it comes to that the Los Angeles Joe Torre's would humiliate of the Halos. Four games, tops. And that's only if the Angels don't throw in the white towel after three.

Then again who's even saying we're going to make it to the World Series? In recent years, we've shown an inability to get past the Red Sox come September, getting embarrassed then eliminated in 2004, 2007 and most recently in 2008. Who says this year is going to be any different? Not I.

Fact of the matter is, in 2008 we were the first team to reach 60 wins (on our way to a franchise record 100 wins). Unfortunately since 2003 only one "fastest to 60 win" team did not make the World Series that same year. Yep! You got it! That was us! Any idea how bad that graphic looks on ESPN? It's worse than Jennifer Aniston's dating record. Sure we weren't the first team to 60 wins this year (ironically, the Dodgers were) but we'll make the playoffs then quietly bow out in the American League Division Series to the Red Sox in four games. If we're lucky we'll get no-hit in one game and blown out in the deciding one. Any other way would just be unnatural.

But enough about our imminent demise in October, let's talk about this current run of luck we've stumbled upon. We've been on this run for about a month now. During that stretch we lost Torii Hunter, Vladimir Guerrero and Juan Rivera to injury. Gary Matthews Jr. and Reggie FREAKIN' Willits were their replacements. Our middle infielders were Erick Aybar and Maicer Izturis. Our catcher was Jeff Mathis. My beer league team's pitching tandem surrendered less runs than the Angels' promising young pitching staff. Last but not least, after losing Scot Shields to injury and Jose Arrendondo to Dallas McPhersonitis earlier this season, we haven't had a dependable reliever all year long. The only bright spot was the unveiling of the 2010 All-Star Game logo. Yet, we kept winning.

Now, we have Juan Rivera and his .531 slugging percentage back in the middle of our lineup (not to mention my fantasy team). Kendry Morales ($1.1 million salary in 2009) has evolved into a formidable and much much much much cheaper replacement for Mark Teixiera ($20.6 million). Erick Aybar is one of the best five shortstops in the American League and Chone Figgins a poor man's Rickey Henderson. Bobby Abreu is one of the top five players in all of baseball and Mike Scioscia is going to win the AL Manager of the Year award. All this and Torii Hunter is still sitting on the DL. Yeah our starting pitcher has been shakier than Jessica Simpson's mental state, but John Lackey has finally rounded back into shape after an injury-plagued first half of the season. Now, granted the Gosselin kids will have dependable mother and father figures before we have dependable relievers, all is looking good in Anaheim.

Don't worry, I'm not getting too excited for the 2009 playoffs. I mean let's say we don't collapse like the Mets have these last two years, we'd have rookies starting at first and catcher, a number one starter who's only playoff victory of note happened in 2002, question marks at our #2, 3, 4, and 5 pitchers, a DH who's running on fumes, a center fielder who's years of running into walls with reckless abandon are finally catching up to him, an infield who's average height is an outstanding GPA, and a closer who has an INFINITY earned run average over his last two apperances.

To make a long story short, we have no shot at winning the 2009-2010 World Series. We're playing in an inferior division and are currently breezing through Triple-A teams. Once we make it to the playoffs we're going to run into the big bad Red Sox, let them push us around as they always do and go into the off season wondering what happened to our 100-win team. And when all that happens I won't be the one to blame because I'd been saying it all along.

But if this reverse jinx doesn't work, I don't know what will.

The Foul Ball

In sports there are a handful of things you rarely get a crack at: breaking 80, bowling a 200 or better, hitting a game-winning three pointer at the buzzer, taking an interception to the house for the game-winning touchdown in your Thanksgiving day flag football game, and catching a major league foul ball.

Last night I had the opportunity to cross one of those off the list, but instead I'm reminiscing and wondering what could've been.

It was the 5th inning, I think. I can't really remember any specifics about the inning or what eventually came of Vladimir Guerrero's at-bat. What I do remember is immediately standing up, instinctively reaching sideways in anticipation and coming up mere centimeters short. To tell you the truth it was all one big blur.

Sports thrive on adrenaline. Whether you're playing a pick-up game at 24 Hour Fitness or NBA Live from your couch, once a challenge is presented the blood starts pumping and your adrenaline takes over. Boxing is the best example of a sport that thrives on adrenaline. They oftentimes say boxers have a hard time remembering anything about their fight once the match is over. Things we as sports fan can recollect and repeat with astounding accuracy; what happened in each round, how many punches each boxer landed, how many punches each one took, what punch was the final blow, how many times each boxer got hit in the groin, how many cheap shots were taken. For them however, they're like Tara Reid trying to remember a night in Acapulco, they can remember a few things but for the most part the specifics are forgotten.

Adrenaline does that to you. It filters out the less than memorable, irrelevant and embarrassing moments while leaving a skeleton of the entire event. And that's exactly what happened once the foul ball landed in section 423, seat 15.

Let me start off by saying that in ANY other circumstance I'm sitting in that seat. (As partial season ticket holders my family gets four tickets at about 20 Angels home games. Some are duds, some are blowouts, some are disappointments, but for the most part we're always able to catch quality games. Sitting in the first section of the upper tier of the ball park about five rows up five strides up the first base line, we get very few cracks at balls leaving the field of play. Conversely we have a Birdseye view of foul balls landing amongst the crowd with rare opportunities to make plays of our own sprinkled in.) If my whole family goes, I'm sitting in that seat. If just my girlfriend and I go, I'm sitting in that seat. If my girlfriend, my mom, my sister and I go, I'm sitting in that seat. If my girlfriend, my cousin, my uncle and I go, as was the case yesterday, I'm sitting in seat 14.

Looking back on what happened it's quite intriguing because it all started due to something I condemned in this article about proper fan etiquette at ballgames. My girlfriend was coming down the steps and as the pitcher went into his windup we all stood for her return - a HUGE no-no by all accounts. Then it happened.

Guerrero ripped one foul which was practically on dead aim for our row. Since we were already standing for my girlfriend we had a crucial and decisive head start on the competition. We were Chad Ochocinco and the rest of our section was Rags to Riches. As the ball majestically floated into our section I went through four stages of anticipation. First, I slowly realized the ball had enough juice to make it into our section (we've seen tons of foul balls come our way only to fall short, so for a ball to have enough juice to reach us is quite an accomplishment). Then, I realized it was heading right to us (and by "right to us" I don't mean "two rows down causing us to lose our balance as we reach out for it and end up crowd surfing amongst unsuspecting fans with our shorts halfway down our butt"). Then, I'm pretty sure an unusual, awkward and downright scary look manifested on my face as I reached sideways for the ball (a la the face Mike Dunleavy made after Zach Randolph launched a 25-footer with seconds left in a game against the Cavaliers earlier this season). Then, just as my heart started beating heavily and my adrenaline started flowing I consciously realized my cousin was going to grab it so I begrudgingly pulled my hand back. Immediately I was looking for the ricochet, but there was no ricochet. The ball had landed dead center in the palm of his gloveless hand. I, on the other hand, was left empty-handed.

It took a good half-inning for my adrenaline to give way, but once it did I was searching for answers, one in particular: Why did I pull my hand back at the last possible second?

Only after the fact did I realize the rarity of the moment. A moment I will rarely, if ever, get another crack at. I don't recall what Vlad did in the at-bat. I don't remember if the Angels scored or not in the inning. I can't remember how many "Good catch!" and "Can we see the ball?" exclamations we heard following the catch. All I remember is this little inkling telling me not to jeopardize the possibility of my cousin catching the foul ball in hopes of us celebrating the catch together.

But as he rose the ball in triumph I couldn't help but think, "that should've been me."

Red, White & Blue ... And More Red

Fourth of July family parties are a cornucopia of activities, laughs and memories. First you have the very healthy yet not so delicious pre-meal snacks (i.e. chips, veggies, nachos, etc...). After eating your fair share of celery and Doritos out comes the delicious yet very unhealthy main dishes; the hot dogs, hamburgers and the juicy steaks. Then, after stuffing your face like you're Joey Chestnut and proclaiming you can't stomach another bite, you dive into the desserts faster than Jessica Simpson dives into an all you can eat buffet.

Then comes the illegal fireworks, the healthy laughs, the jokes, the "Kid X, GET AWAY FROM THE FIREWORKS!!!" scare, and most importantly the lasting memories.

With all that said, it's fitting that the Fourth of July capped off an up-and-down week for the Boys in Red. Doesn't quite have the same ring to it as the Boys in Blue, does it?

After taking control of the AL West for the first time all season the Angels began the week with an inspiring win in Arlington against the rival Rangers (oops, I guess they're just the Rangers considering the Angels aren't allowed to have any rivalries considering we've only been around for 30 some odd years and other storied franchises have been around since the dawn of civilization so they can't take us seriously. My bad.) This win inspired me to write a piece about how the Angels are just about ready to separate themselves from the rest of the pack. You won't see this piece in my archive because I never wrote it. I was this close to writing it but decided to play 18 instead. Luckily I didn't because as the series continued the Angels reverted back to their April and May selves with back-to-back losses to erase any glimmer of hope for a stress-free second half to the season.

The one game that stood out to me was Wednesday night's game, or at least the little bit of it I watched live. Picking it up in the top of the ninth Juan Rivera continued his string of 'Eff You' homers, blasting a clutch 3-run bomb that tied the game 7-7. (At 31 years of age Rivera is on pace for 30 home runs and 100-110 RBI's, both would be career highs. Luckily Rivera is hitting home runs in Anaheim and not New York, Boston or Philadelphia or else he'd be getting asked more than a few questions about his sudden peak in performance. Come to think of it, does anyone outside a 30 mile radius know that Anaheim even has a baseball team? Or that Anaheim is even city? Or that we won a little thing called the World Series in 2002? Yet I digress.)

However with any positive comes a negative, correct? Well Mike Scioscia, in a last ditch effort to win the series and steal a game we had no business winning in Texas against a hot hitting Rangers squad who had already plated seven runs put in ... Justin Speier?!?!? The same Justin Speier that can't seem to avoid the inevitable "hanging slider" that ends up landing in the upper deck of a ballpark near you? The same Justin Speier that whenever he trots to the mound elicits a Jigsaw-esque "Game Over!" from Angels fans? The same Justin Speier that draws more F-bombs in disgust from Angels fans than hearing the name Dallas McPherson? That Justin Speier? I mean, it's not like we have the major league saves leader in our bullpen or anything.

But no. The excruciating "Justin Speier is on in relief" announcement was enough cause to change the channel and forget about any possible extra-inning rally.

Sure enough Hank Blalock deposited a "hanging somethingorother" into the grassy area behind the center field wall. Three things happened as that poor baseball flew into the abyss: 1) the stadium erupted in elation, 2) every Angels fan said "See, I told you so" and 3) the Angels lost their lead in the AL West. I will never get over the Justin Speier signing. I just won't. And you can't make me.

But true to form the resilient Angels bounced back from a deflating loss to take the first game of a four-game set against the lowly Orioles. Come to think of it, have the Orioles ever been anything but lowly? Sure they play about 1/4 of their games against the Red Sox and Yankees, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes. I mean what do they gotta do to switch divisions? With the way the Red Sox and Yankees spend money the Orioles are not only over matched on the field, they're over matched off it. If the Red Sox are "Terminator Salvation" and the Yankees are "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" then the Orioles are "The Proposal." They're not good enough to earn the big bucks at the box office but they'll entertain you for a while with what they got, but half way through the movie you'll realize you should've spent your money on a better cinematic adventure. If that made any sense.

If the Texas series was the chips and dip and the first Orioles game was the nachos and veggies then Ervin Santana's less-than-triumphant return to the mound on Friday was the "Oh my god Timmy has a lit firework in his hand" moment of the week.

Santana went 16-9 last year as the number 2 starter on a very deep Angels squad. Loaded with oodles of swag and a You Can't Hit This mentality Santana looked like the Next Big Thing in Anaheim. Then two words no pitcher, young or old, wants to hear floated into his limited English vocabulary: elbow injury. Suddenly, Santana was staring down the barrel of the same fate as fellow countryman and up-and-coming phenom Francisco Liriano. Liriano underwent Tommy John Surgery in 2006 and missed the entire 2007 campaign and has yet to round back into shape.

Luckily Santana avoided Tommy John Surgery but the lingering effects of his elbow injury have been evident in his last two starts. In his most recent outing he gave up 6 runs (4 earned) on 8 hits in 5 innings. As of right now Angels fans are trying to find a glimmer of hope in the 26-year-old right hander with the chinstrap beard and short dreadlocks, but the future isn't looking too endearing. I hope I'm wrong. I really hope I'm wrong.

If the Texas series was the chips and dip, the first Orioles game the nachos and veggies, Ervin Santana's return to the mound the "Oh my god Timmy has a lit firework in his hand" moment then Saturday's Fourth of July extravaganza was the lighting of the first illegal firework. And man was it a beauty.

First of all, I'd like to say the return of Vladimir Guerrero as a legitimate home run threat has to rank up there with the returns of Michael Jordan in 1995, The Rock and Michael Jackson in 2001, and Robert Downey Jr. with "Iron Man" and "Tropic Thunder" in 2008. It ranks just above the returns of New Kids on the Block, Manny Ramirez, and Britney Spears. And it ranks lightyears ahead of the irrelevant returns of Lindsay Lohan and "Paris Hilton's My New BFF."

Ever since I prematurely buried Guerrero's career he's started mashing the ball. Better yet he's not swinging at bad pitches (OK, I made that up). But at least he's hitting the good ones out of the park. There's no better exclamation in sports than the "Vlad what are you swinging at?!?! {pause} Wooooohoooooo!" response to a Guerrero home run. (OK, I lied about that too. The only other better exclamation is the "GET IN THE HOLE!!!!" exclamation after every Tiger Woods shot. That will forever be the best exclamation in sports. Bar none.)

The reemergence of Vladimir Guerrero must have done something to my golf game because just as he began jacking dingers out of Angel Stadium I began sticking irons and wedges into the green with ease. Is it silly to believe Vlad's reemergence in the batter's box and my improvement on the golf course is somehow mysteriously tied together? Of course. Do I still believe it? You betcha. Believe me, with my inconsistent golf game you'd be looking for anything positive to grab on to. I'm doing everything but wearing the Jason Giambi golden thong at this point.

A gutsy come from behind victory against the lowly Orioles on Sunday and a 5-2 Texas win Sunday night combined to put the two ballclubs in a first place tie in the AL West. If the Texas series was the chips and dip, the first Orioles game the nachos and veggies, the second Orioles game the "Oh my god Timmy has a lit firework in his hand" moment, the Fourth of July the first illegal firework, then the Fourth of July weekend as a whole must have been the big firework finale.

And if this patriotic weekend was any indication of the near future, this upcoming Texas series in Anaheim starting Monday will be a combination of the healthy laughs and lasting memories.

It's About Time, Angels

Well, what a weekend for the Halos, wouldn't ya say?

First, we get a Nationally televised game on FOX, much to the dismay of millions of sports fans across the United States then we get a thrilling, back and forth Sunday afternoon game against the lowly Arizona Diamondbacks.

Sunday's tug-of-war 12-8 victory over the Diamondback's Triple-A affiliate - oh wait, that was the Diamondbacks' professional team? Oops, my bad - did two things: 1) it wrapped up interleague play for the 2008-2009 Major League Baseball season and 2) cemented the Angels' third three-game sweep over opponents from the horrendous minor league division that is the National League West.

The win also boosted the Angels' interleague record to a Major League best 14-4. Sure the 14 victories came via NL West foes but don't laugh, these NL West teams are {trying not to laugh myself} quite, hmm how can I put this nicely? Competitive? All in all we swept the woeful Padres at home, the Giants on the road, lost 2 out of 3 at Angel Stadium to the Los Angeles Joe Torres (ouch!), took 2 out of 3 from the Rockies at home and swept the dreadful D'Backs in Arizona.

With the combination of an Angels victory and a Rangers defeat on Saturday the Angels leapfrogged Texas to take over sole possession of first place in the American League West for the first time all season.

Ah, there's no place like home. Ah, and a warm seat to boot! Thanks Texas!

Over this 18-game interleague stretch, it looks as if all question marks are finally beginning to stabilize. Namely, Juan Rivera.

I'm guilty of being one of those who buried Juan before the season, saying the following: "So you're telling me this summer we decided to invest our money into a mediocre outfielder who's never hit more than 23 homers in a year and has had a history of injuries instead of chasing one of the greatest right-handed batters of all time? Did we at least get some free balls in the deal?You can't tell me signing Manny Ramirez wouldn't have re-energized the Angels faithful. And all this talk about Manny possibly not being happy in Anaheim ... we're right next to Disneyland for God's sake! The Happiest Place on Earth! How could Manram not enjoy living next to Disneyland for two to three years? Instead, he's hitting dingers for our hated crosstown rival and we're left with Juan Rivera (a fourth outfield, at best) hitting .200 for three years. Grrrrrreat."

(In a perfect world, The Weakest Link lady would turn to me ever so slowly, glance coldly at me as if I was dressed in drag, and deliver the patented haymaker: "You ARE the weakest link, good-bye!")

Needless to say, Rivera has already surpassed my underwhelming expectations with 73 hits, 12 home runs, 41 RBIs, a .305 batting average, a .504 slugging percentage and a cemented spot on my fantasy baseball squad. All this while Manny Ramirez is hitting longballs for the Inland Empire 66er's. Do I wish Manny Ramirez was hitting dingers for the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes (our single-A affiliate) and still secretly visualize him in an Angels uni? Of course I do.

More importantly, Vladimir Guerrero is starting to show signs of a pulse. I'll admit, about a week ago I was getting ready to throw in the towel on Big Daddy Vladdy's illustrious and historic career. He was below the Mendoza line and showing no signs of life. His swing was flatter than Nicole Richie. He had less pop than Carson Daly and less pizazz than Heidi Montag (damn right I made a reference to The Hills). But I still had hope. Hope that one game we'd see him golf a ball over the outfield fence, clumsily trot around the bases, give a few Tiger Fist Pimps along the way and give an unadulterated DX Chop to all the fans who buried him.

However the reality was he was carrying around this glazed, Blake Griffin "I can't believe I'm going to be playing for the Clippers for six years" look on his face the whole time. That is until this past week. During the Rockies series, Guerrero finally delved into his emergency power supply and emerged a balder, yet rejuvenated hitter. Yes he still swings at pitches that bounce five feet in front of the plate at an alarming rate, but we Angels fans have come to expect and accept that from our future hall of famer.

You see, what makes Guerrero so unique is his uncanny ability to step up to the plate and hit the ball 400 feet after such a debilitating and humiliating swing. But all of a sudden he wasn't doing that. He was just swinging at bad pitches. You could tell Guerrero's leash was getting a little tight - much like the David Ortiz situation in Boston - and we were all left wondering what had happened to our goofy, yet lovable right fielder.

As his 2nd home run of the season glided over the right field wall on Wednesday, you could practically hear Angel Stadium let out a collective sigh of relief. Now even though we didn't embarrass him by asking for a curtain call (cough, Boston, cough) we did let him know that it was good to have him back - even if it was only for one night.

As for the positives, if Chone Figgins continues to play the way he's playing right now, next season he's going to be Oprah rich. Unfortunately it's not going to be the Angels who are paying him. What's going to happen is we're going to cut ties with Figgins (because he's more than likely going to be asking for too much) after this year and hope one of our highly-regarded prospects pans out, bidding an Au Revoire to another proven major leaguer in the process. It sucks. Lucky for Angels management, they're not going to have to pay Figgins a bonus for making the All-Star team considering the only spots reserved for Angels players in the Mid Summer Classic are the team's leading homerun hitter (Torii Hunter) and incumbent closer (Brian Fuentes). Hopefully Figgins catches on in a big market city in 2010 so more people will recognize and appreciate his irreplaceable contribution and astounding consistency. We're keeping his nickname though. That's ours.

Though our bullpen isn't exactly on par with the Red Sox' or the Dodgers' it is beginning to come around. We were dealt Mike Tyson blows when the durable and dependable Scot Shields went down with an arm injury and Jose Arredondo all of a sudden switched bodies with pre-glasses Ricky Vaughn. However, with the help of some serviceable arms from Salt Lake, the bullpen isn't quite as bad as it once was. Don't get me wrong, our bullpen isn't "great" by any means, but for where it started it's much improved.

So, as of June 28, 2009 the Angels are riding a 5-game win streak (winning 14 of their last 18 overall. Thanks NL West!) and are in sole possession of first place. After a rocky and frightening start, it's hard to argue that the Angels aren't once again the team to beat in the American League West.

Losing to the Dodgers Sucks

As a devout Angels fan there are certain teams that:

a) I don't like losing to
b) I hate losing to
c) I really hate losing to.

Just so you know, the Rangers, A's and Mariners fall into the "don't like losing to" tier, the Yankees and Red Sox fall into the "hate losing to" tier, and the Dodgers stand alone in the "really hate losing to" tier. I figure that a loss to the Rangers, A's or Mariners, though tough to swallow, isn't horrific considering we play each team about 20 times a year. A loss to the Yankees or Red Sox, though worse than watching From Justin to Kelly, isn't exactly reason to jump off a cliff considering we play them both about 10-12 times a season.

However, a loss to the Dodgers is worse than 4-putting from 10 feet. Losing to the Dodgers is worse than getting pantsed in front of your crush. Losing to the Dodgers hurts more than hearing Paris Hilton trying to talk politics. Losing to the Dodgers is more excruciating than watching Lindsay Lohan's digestive system trying to break down a cheeseburger. Losing to the Dodgers is worse than sliding into second and not quite making it there a la Willie Mays Hayes in "Major League." You get my point.

I really hate losing to the Dodgers 1) because we only play them 6 times a year 2) because we hail from the same region of the country and 3) because I really hate losing to the Dodgers. Our rivalry isn't on the same echelon as Yankees/Red Sox, but for Angels fans, the Dodgers are the closest thing to a rival we have.

There are many reasons to hate the Dodgers; their fans, their championships, their storied history, their perfect play-by-play TV announcer, their overpriced Dodger Dogs, their ego-driven manager, their historic ballpark with a perfect view of the Hollywood sign in the distance, etc... In actuality it's hard to find a reason not to dislike the Boys in Blue.

However, after Sunday night's 5-3 loss to Joe Torre's squad, there's one thing you can't take away from them - the impact of their homegrown prospects. So here's a little dap for the Los Angeles Dodgers of Los Angeles.

You see, the Dodgers farm system is everything the Angels' farm system was supposed to be; a breeding ground for the next big Angels superstar or superstars. Over the last two years, the Dodger's farm system has produced the nucleus of guys leading this team to the best record in the National league and at the very least a spot in the National League Championship Series. All this without their $50 million dollar left fielder.

The Angels' farm system on the other hand continues to produce borderline starters and disappointing busts. For every Mike Napoli there's been a Dallas McPherson. These touted single-A, double-A, and triple-A prospects have flourished in the minors year in and year out, yet have always seemed to shrink upon their graduation to the big leagues.

Howie Kendrick, Jeff Mathis, Erick Aybar, Kendry Morales. Those were the four homegrown prospects in the opening day lineup for the Halos. Since then, Howie Kendrick has been demoted, Jeff Mathis has assumed back-up catcher duties with his .196 batting average and Erick Aybar is dangling onto the starting lineup by his dreadlocks. The only serviceable one of the bunch is Kendry Morales who's a switch hitter that can't hit right-handed.

Maybe I'm being too harsh on the Angels farm system which has produced John Lackey and Jered Weaver (just to name a couple highly-regarded prospects that have panned out). Maybe I'm steaming after a 5-3 defeat at the hands of the effin' Dodgers. Maybe I'm immensely disappointed because now that Howie Kendrick is in the minors I won't be able to see anymore Marlon Brando-like performances by Kendrick in the Howard's Appliance and Big Screen Superstores commercials. Who knows.

All I'm wondering is when is management going to realize that proven veterans - though more expensive - are a safer bet than fresh-faced rookies. Hasn't management learned from the recent success of dependable veterans like Vladimir Guerrero, Torii Hunter and Bobby Abreu? The only exception to this is when referring to the cast of "Superbad," which had a nucleus of young, fresh-faced actors that propelled the movie to "Citizen Kane" and "Gone With The Wind" heights.

Look at the Mark Teixeira acquisition last year. We gave away Casey Kotchman, who was rounding into a quality first baseman at the time, for a proven veteran who had a long string of success in the majors. Couldn't have worked out better for us. We improved our World Series chances by a jillion by placing a patient, yet powerful first baseman in the middle of our lineup, which in turn took all the pressure off Vladimir who distanced himself from all the "he can't produce in the playoffs" stigma. You ask every Angels fan whether they'd take that Teixeira trade back and all of them will give you the same answer, no.

I've been the biggest proponent of trades this side of giddy fantasy baseball owners. If a prospect is getting a lot of hype and looks like he's going to be "the next big thing" I say trade him faster than CC Sabathia can devour a double whopper with cheese. If I've learned anything over the years it's that too many "can't miss" prospects have gone by the wayside. I don't blame the players as much as I blame the penny pinching owners and the gun shy general managers for clinging on to every rising prospect because they may be The One.

With all this said, the two out of three loses at Angels Stadium sucked, but what sucked even more was seeing the Dodgers young guns flourish and the Angels young guns flounder.

I don't like losing to the Rangers. I hate losing to the Yankees and Red Sox, but man I really hate losing to the Dodgers.

Angels/Dodgers, Round 4

When the Anaheim Angels suddenly changed their name to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim a heated competition for the Best Team With Los Angeles In Their Name ensued. Earlier this year the Angels took two out of three games from the first place Dodgers in Chavez Ravine highlighted by Torii Hunter's collision into the wall. With all that said, allow me to take you through the fourth game of this year's Freeway Series.

Pre-game: Welcome to Angels Stadium! We're expecting a sell-out crowd today as the NL West leading Dodgers come into town to face the second place Angels. Scattered amongst the Angels faithful are blue caps, jerseys and the subtle scent of Coronas with limes. We got Rory Markus and Mark Gubicza on the call tonight. An interesting fact about the I-5 Series: the Angels lead the all-time series 40-31, including an impressive 16-5 record in Anaheim. Why didn't we just stick to our guns and keep the Anaheim in our name? It wasn't hurting anyone.

Just a reminder, the Angels are riding a 6-game winning streak that includes two sweeps. The teams we've swept: the Padres and the Giants. The division those two teams play for, the NL West. The division the Dodgers are currently in, the NL West. All I'm saying is, what do we gotta do to switch leagues?

Going through all the defensive assignments, Gubicza casually mentions that Chone Figgins is going to make his presence felt on the defensive side of the ball this evening. Really? Chone Figgins? Does anyone feel safe with Chone Figgins as their Hot Corner Specialist? I mean when your go-to move on a hot shot is to drop to your knees and swipe at the ball blindly chances are you're not gonna win any gold gloves anytime soon. Somewhere Roger Dorn is nodding his head silently.

Torii Hunter is back in the starting lineup after running head first - literally - into the wall up in San Fransisco two games ago. At this point in his career Torii Hunter is flirting with Reggie Ray's diagnosis: Five more concussions and he'll die. This was the reaction to that play (keep in mind we're up 8-0 at that point): Torrrrrrrrrii!!! Ahh. Ohh. Oww ... That's not good. That's really not good. Torii we're up 8-0 plus Bengie Molina hit that gapper! Bengie Molina!!! He couldn't outrun Aretha Franklin for god's sake! Anyway, it's good to see Torii back in the lineup! Phew! The Angels - and my fantasy team - are looking a lot better with him patrolling center.

Another interesting fact, Chone Figgins and Juan Pierre are best friends. Who would've known?

Before we start the running diary I wanna dissect this whole Juan Pierre/Manny Ramirez ordeal. Pierre is a starter on any team in Major League Baseball, period. He hits for average and is always a threat to swipe a bag or two. He's demonstrated over this last month and a half that he's a legit starter that deserves to be playing everyday. Unfortunately the Dodgers paid $50 million to Manny Ramirez this past summer and it wouldn't matter if it was revealed in a special Outside The Lines report that he ran a drug ring with Frank Lucas, the Dodgers are going to play him. It's what the fans want, it's what the media wants, and it's what Manny wants. So come early July when Manny triumphantly returns to Mannywood, Juan Pierre's back on the bench. Juan, allow me to introduce you to Mark Loretta and Mitch Jones, you'll be rooming with them for the remainder of the season.

Top 1st: Come to find out Pierre is batting .328 over this month and a half stretch. Unbelievable. The man is on a time clock yet he still produces. When Manny steals his spot can the Angels make a run at him?

Bottom 1st: Gubicza states that Chone Figgins is making a real push to make the All-Star team with his productivity these last few weeks. Please. Doesn't Gubicza know that the only Angels contractually allowed to be on the All-Star team are the Angels' home run leader (currently Torii Hunter) and closer (currently Brian Fuentes)? The rest of those all-star spots are reserved for Yankees and Red Sox only. Chone Figgins, East Coast Bias. East Coast Bias, Chone Figgins.

With all that said, Chone Figgins leads off with a double to center field. Matt Kemp attempted to catch it but came up a wee bit short. Don't worry, if Manny Ramirez played center field he'd still be trying to find the ball in his MC Hammer pants.

No harm done when Casey Blake makes a phenomenal bare-handed play to get Torii out at first ... and wait ... Figgins gets thrown out at third on a patented Angels baserunning error. Inning over. Chone Figgins is gonna have to steal a couple bags tonight to make up for that one.

Top 2nd: Andre Ethier (the 5th batter in the lineup) walks to the plate as Markus calmly pronounces him the cleanup hitter. Uhhhh. I'm telling you, these play-by-play and color commentators have the cushiest, easiest job in the world! If I only had Joe Buck's voice. Markus also points out that the Dodgers have a .657 winning percentage this year, but it's "not as sparkling as it sounds" considering they play the majority of their games against other mediocre at best NL West teams. Ya think?!? I think the Bad News Bears played in a tougher division than the Dodgers. Markus also mentions that he thinks the league is a little "down" this year. Down? Has it ever been up? Hasn't it been getting progressively worse and worse over the years and is currently heading for bankruptcy and planning to ask President Obama for a kajillion dollar bailout soon?

Matt Kemp gets picked off at second and Erick Aybar makes a barehanded play to throw out James Loney after the ball ricocheted off of Joe Saunders glove, making the play much much harder than it needed to be. Inning over.

Bottom 2nd: Now batting, Number 27, The Designated Hitter, The Artist Formerly Known as Vladimir Guerrero!!! Vlad is carrying his 6'3" 235 lbs broken down frame up to the plate slower than Kirk Gibson in the 1988 World Series. Of course, to shut me up he singles. Where's the limp and fist pump is all I'm asking. Runners on second and third with one out and up walks Mighty Maicer.

(Sidenote: We Angels fans dubbed Maicer Izturis "Mighty Maicer" for his ability to come through in big situations. Yes, we know it's completely ironic considering he's the tiniest guy on the team and he waxes his eyebrows, but hey, we needed someone to be our "Mighty" and we chose him. We're sticking with our guns and there's nothing you can say to change our mind.)

Mighty Maicer hits an un-mighty pop fly to Matt Kemp which fails to score the runner from third. Rats! Come to think of it, is Soft Pop Up To Center Field Maicer too long?

Another amazing play by Casey Blake to squash the Angels hopes of striking the first blow on a terrific grab in foul territory. Did Casey Blake somehow hop in Doc Brown's delorean and switch bodies with the 1999 Derek Jeter? Can we prove he didn't?

Top 3rd: Mitch Jones, everyone! I know you're asking, "Mitch Jones?" Well, apparently he's spent the last century in the minors. Time must absolutely fly when you're eating fast food nightly, riding on buses and playing in front of 500 people each night. Well, the Dodgers called him up seeing they needed a designated hitter for the weekend and Manny was unavailable because he's currently on Maternity Leave.

Joe Saunders walks in a run to make it 1-0 Dodgers. Let the drunken celebrations and missed high-fives begin! Gotta hate it when the Dodgers score first in Anaheim.

Bottom 3rd: A Figgins walk, followed by an Abreu line out brings Torii back to the plate. Trying to keep Figgins close, Billingsley throws the ball away allowing Figgins to advance to second. Torii hits a high chopper past first only he thought it was heading foul but it somehow tight roped the line and generated the second out of the inning. Figgins is still standing on second. But wait!!! We get our first glimpse of the Mike Scioscia "Someone just told me a horrible joke and now I'm debating whether to laugh or just leave" Face. Gotta love it. And High Definition only makes it more comical. Vlad's at the plate. He goes on to swing at his 1,934,560th pitch in the dirt. Geez, I don't even think Pedro Cerrano missed this many curveballs. Somewhere David Ortiz is standing up and applauding. Of course, to shut me up, he singles in Figgins to make it 1-1.

Top 4th: We get out first dose of the brother vs. brother matchup for Saturday night's game. It's oftentimes forgotten that when Jered Weaver was a rookie in 2006 his brother was on the Angels. Only he was horrible. We practically pulled a Stephon Marbury and paid him to not be around the team. That year we released him and he went to go on to win the World Series with the Angels' Dumping Ground also known as the St. Louis Cardinals. Go figure.

Joe Saunders gives up a solo HR to make the score 2-1 in favor of the Dodgers. After seeing the replay Gubicza and Markus come to the conclusion that Loney's HR was a product of a hanging curveball. If you think about it "hanging curveball" is practically synonymous with "tape-measure home run". Hey! In case you didn't know the 2010 All-Star Game is going to be played in Anaheim! I wonder how long it took Bud Selig to pinpoint Anaheim on a map. 30 minutes? 45 minutes? I'm definitely going with over 10 tries.

Bottom 4th: A pretty feeble inning for the Halos, so much so I don't really recall seeing anything worth writing. Man it would suck to be a Pirates fan. This article would be much much shorter.

Top 5th: Upon Roger Lodge's arrival in the booth Rafael Furcal proceeds to hit a 2-run bomb on, you guessed it - a hanging curveball. 4-1 Dodgers. The Dodgers noise meter is getting pretty high at this point. How many Angels fans right now are dreading their seats? Not only do they gotta listen to the obnoxious Dodgers fan sitting behind them, all the while they gotta repeatedly clean off the spilled beer from their shoulders. Yikes!

Bottom 5th: To lead off the inning Erick Aybar strikes out on a "wicked" curveball. Wicked? Of course the curveball was wicked, because if it wasn't it would've been deposited in the stands by now (see: Loney, James & Furcal, Rafael). Andre Ethier botches a sliding catch leading to a Home Field Double by Figgins. Man, I haven't seen this many botched catches by a group of outfielders since my most recent adult softball game. Wow, Figgins is 2-2 with a walk on the night. I guess he really is making a last ditch all-star pu ... Wow, Russell Martin just picked off Figgins at first on a throw-behind pick off. I believe that runs the tally up to Base Paths: 2, Chone Figgins, 0. Almost on cue, Bobby Abreu grounds out to first to end the inning.

Bottom 6th: After six innings I've noticed that Billingsley stands in disgust after every bad pitch for a couple seconds like I do after every bad drive, iron shot, chip shot and putt. He just walked Torii Hunter so he's situated like I am after missing a 3-foot putt to save double bogey. After a Guerrero infield single, a Juan Rivera sac fly, and a walk to Kendry Morales, Billingsley is starting to resemble me after a 4-putt.

With the bases chucked Soft Pop Up To Center Field Maicer strolls to the plate and ... a ground ball to right!!! Torii and Vlad come around to make the score. 4-3 Dodgers. OK OK, Maicer's earned his ironic nickname back. A Mike Napoli sac fly scores Morales and an Aybar ground out ends the inning. 4-3 Dodgers.

Top 7th: Joe Saunders retires Pierre, who seems to have about 10 at-bats this game. Seriously, every time they show someone in the on-deck circle Juan Pierre is taking hacks. Maybe he cloned himself to show Dodgers management two Juan Pierre's are better - and cheaper - than one Manny Ramirez. Jason Bulger relieves Saunders and promptly gives up an infield single to Orlando Hudson. Luckily Casey "Throw me a curveball in the dirt and I'm good to swing at it" Blake is the next batter and almost like clockwork Bulger strikes him out to end the inning.

Bottom 7th: Once again we hear about the Figgins/Pierre friendship. I'm putting the number of references to their friendship for this series at 39.5 and taking the over. Vlad feablily grounds into an inning-ending double play.

Top 8th: Darren Oliver is on in relief of Bulger. After a Matt Kemp single we get the privilege of seeing an X-Mo replay of Oliver's delivery. I can practically see the seams of his pants stretching to unsafe levels. Here are five words Angles fans dread: Justin Speier is warming up. After a strike out by Loney, a steal by Kemp, an intentional walk to Martin, Jones comes up with a chance to be the hero. Only, Joe Torre pulls him for the ageless Mark Loretta. Here are five more words Angels fans dread hearing: Justin Speier is coming in. The graphic shows Speier's ERA currently at 4.58 and a little sidebar shows that he has a 1.84 ERA in his last 14 appearances. His total number of appearances for the season is 23 which makes you wonder, WHAT WAS HE DOING THE OTHER 9 APPEARANCES?!?!? Almost on cue, he walks Mark Loretta on 5 pitches to load the bases. We get another shot of the Mike Scioscia Face but this time I'd much rather see the Tony Reagins "I can't believe I signed this guy, I must have been hammered when I signed the contract" Face. Two outs.

Speier gets the ever-present Pierre to fly out to left to end the inning. Phew! Wait a second, we get a shot of Speier giving a Dikembe Mutumbo-esque finger wave for some strange reason. I'm interpreting it as a middle finger to fans like me.

Bottom 8th: Juan Rivera mashes a hanging slider to left field after a 9-pitch AB for his 10th homer of the year. Don't these pitchers know that if you curveball is not "wicked" it's gonna get hit a long way? So far we've seen three hanging curveballs leave the pitchers hand and none of them have come back. Luckily, Rivera's home run leads to the most unintentionally comedic curtain call of all-time. Granted, I wasn't at the game so I couldn't hear how loud the cheers were for Rivera after he hit that shot but I just saw a replay in which Rivera proceeded to give a curtain call, only nobody even noticed he even came out. Hilarious. I had to rewind and see that a couple times to believe it.

Top 9th: Though hearing "Brian Fuentes is on to close" is better than hearing "K-Rod is on to close" it's not by much. After a Furcal single, a Hudson sacrifice, and a Casey Blake strike out, Fuentes gives up a 4-pitch walk to Andre Ethier. Wait a second, is that K-Rod out on the mound wearing a Fuentes jersey? On an 0-2 count to Matt Kemp the crowd in unison stands. Dodgers fans are noticeably grimacing because their holding their bladder to Hoover Dam level. And the pitch ... STRIKE THREE!!! He struck him out!!! Just another Halo Victory!

Angels, 5. Dodgers, 4.

To recap, that extends the Angels winning streak to seven in a row - all against NL West teams. Three wins out of the last four games against the Dodgers and with Texas losing that brings the Halos within one game of first place in the AL West.

Once again, what do we gotta do to switch leagues? Surrender the 2010 All-Star Game?

The Shaq Theory

My high school basketball coach once told me, "Brian, a great center will win you games, but a great guard will win you championships." Fitting, considering during my best high school basketball season I was the all-league center on a quality yet guard-less squad that finished the year 14-13 and reached the second round of the C.I.F. Southern Section Championships.

I didn't quite understand his logic until the following season (the year after I graduated) when he was able to somehow lure a proven high school point guard (who had just come off a C.I.F. Southern Section Championship the year before) to a less-than-outstanding basketball program at my Alma Mater. The team, which basically had all the same parts from my senior season, instantly took off. They began embarrassing teams by 20-30 points a night while leaving a vapor trail behind them in the standings.

Naturally, my jealousy kicked in. I saw that these once uncoordinated, unreliable basketball players were finally coming into their own behind the play of their all-world point guard. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I encountered sleepless nights wondering how my career would've benefited from playing alongside a skilled PG night in and night out.

I envisioned a situation similar to Owen Wilson's acting career. Starting out, you sort of knew who I was and semi-respected me because I held my own in movies like "Armageddon" and "The Haunting," but it wasn't until I teamed up with creative mastermind Ben Stiller that my career blossomed. A year later, I'm Owen Freakin' Wilson!!! I had a good run with Stiller running the point in comedies like "Meet the Parents," "Meet the Fockers," and "Zoolander," and even branched out on my own in "Wedding Crashers." (But eventually without Stiller's influence, I hit the down slope of my career and now all I do is put out box office deadpans like "Marley and Me," "Drillbit Taylor," and "You, Me and Dupree." But that's besides the point.)

Looking back on my high school basketball career I couldn't have played any better over a three year stretch (20 ppg/10 rpg for three solid seasons) yet we only made it to the post season my junior year. Then after my departure a quality point guard comes in and instantly takes the team - and school - to unworldly heights.

These parallels bring me to the career of the always entertaining, very quotable and quite exuberant Shaquille O'Neal.

Much has been made recently regarding Kobe's quest for an NBA Championship sans The Diesel, (and his dependence on Shaq for his first three rings, in the first place) yet very little has been made about Shaq's diminishing value, childish behavior and his dependence on #24 for his three rings.

Shaquille O'Neal was once the most dominating force on this planet. Comparable only to Liam Neeson single-handily tearing through Paris to find his daughter in "Taken," The Diesel destroyed opponents like The Octomom destroyed her cervix. His 27,619 points (5th all-time) and 12,566 rebounds (15th all-time) place him in legendary - repeat, legendary - company. A career full of entertainment, productivity and destruction has undoubtedly cemented Shaq's place next to Kareem, Wilt, Russell, Ewing and Olajuwon in the Centers wing of the NBA Hall of Fame.

His four NBA championships and three Finals MVPs speak for themselves. (Come to think of it, it's really amazing how Nike hasn't replaced the post-humorous LeBron puppet with a Shaq puppet yet. I mean what would be more entertaining then seeing the two of them go at it for :45 seconds. Just imagine all the taunting Puppet Shaq would be doing to Puppet Kobe: "Yo! Kobe! I'm making dinner, can you tell me how my [bleep] tastes!" or "You ain't gettin it Kobe, you ain't gettin it!" or "Kobe, you lookin for your championship rings? Oh, here they are, right here on my fingers!" The possibilities are literally endless. With Shaq's sense of humor and Nike's creative genius a Shaq/Kobe Nike commercial could give all those classic Kobe/LeBron Nike commercials a run for their money.) However, The Diesel isn't exactly taking the quiet approach to this year's NBA Finals.

Never mind the fact Shaq's two former teams are competing for the vacant NBA crown, Shaq has repeatedly taken shots at and voiced his displeasure for former coach Stan Van Gundy and has continued to belittle the heir apparent to his XXXXL throne, Dwight Howard.

In February of 2008, Bill Walton criticized Shaq's (who was playing in Miami at the time) integrity by questioning the severity of his documented injuries that forced him to miss an extensive amount of time. Those injuries eventually led to Miami frantically dealing him to Phoenix for some Cactus Cooler and an armadillo. What Walton was getting at was Shaq's miraculous recovery after leaving Miami. To make a long story short Walton questioned Shaq's motives and wondered whether Superman was faking his injuries to get a first-class ticket out of South Beach, considering the honeymoon with the Heat was fading, fast. Walton rationalized this critique once Shaq's seemingly severe injuries disappeared upon his arrival in Phoenix where he performed a cannon ball into the fountain of youth and emerged a rejuvenated Diesel in 08'.

Needless to say Shaq took offense to Walton's comments and quickly flung a few zingers Walton's way, mentioning that Walton had "broken the Big Man's Code." Well, a year and a half later, on the cusp of the biggest month of Howard's budding young career, Shaq has openly ridiculed the reigning defensive player of the year even going as far as tweeting a repulsive picture of a Stan Van Gundy/Dwight Howard baby. Who's breaking the Big Man's Code now?

I mean, if there is a Big Man's Club bound together by a Big Man's Code, doesn't the man with the biggest shoulders in sporting history have a membership?

Shaq's bitterness towards his former team (Orlando) apparently comes from his jealous, I'm The Great Shaq Didn't You See Me In "Kazaam" nature. The years following his premature departure from Los Angeles, O'Neal did everything but mold a replica Larry O'Brien trophy out of paper mache to claim a Kobe-less NBA title (which he was able to accomplish in 2005 with the Heat). Contrary to what Shaq may have said at the time, Shaq didn't win the title for the city of Miami. Or the Heat. Or Dwayne Wade. Or Pat Riley. In the days and years following the 05'-06' season, it appeared more and more like he solemnly cared about winning a title for himself; more importantly away from The City of Angels to prove to the world the Lakers made a mistake for trading him.

Fast forward to 2009, now that Kobe had a real shot at winning his first Shaq-less NBA title the tides have suddenly turned which gives me a chance to propose a new twist on the highly-disputed question: Did Kobe need Shaq to win his three rings or is it the other way around?

Well, after hours of mindlessly rummaging through basketball-reference.com like Nick Cage rummaging through piles of ludicrous prospective movie scripts (see: Bangkok Dangerous and Ghost Rider) I can offer this conclusion: Shaq needed Kobe to win his first three rings.

Shaquille O'Neal came into the league in 1992. As a rookie, his Orlando squad missed the playoffs as O'Neal started 81 games for the fifth year, Florida-based franchise. His averages that year: 23.4 ppg, 13.9 rpg, 3.5 bpg. Astonishing. Epic. Unbelievable, even. It's safe to say the big man with the bigger personality nabbed Rookie of the Year honors in a draft class that included eventual teammates Alonzo Mourning and Robert Horry. The Magic finished the season at a respectable 41-41 but the 20-year-old O'Neal spent his first NBA summer watching the playoffs from his king sized bed.

In his sophomore outing Shaq averaged 29.3 ppg, 13.2 rpg, 2.9 bpg and led the Magic to their first ever playoff appearance where they fell to the Indiana Pacers in the first round, 3-0. In Shaq's first postseason appearance, he averaged 20.7/13.3/2.3. The Diesel had officially arrived. Over the next two years (his two final years in Orlando) Shaq averaged 25.7/11.9/3.3 (ast.) in the 94' playoffs and 25.8/10.0/4.6 (ast.) in the 95' playoffs, yet his team got swept in the NBA Finals by the Rockets and then again in the Eastern Conference Finals by the Michael Jordan-led Bulls.

During Shaq's three playoff runs in Orlando he had an up-and-coming Penny Hardaway who threw up increasing season averages over the course of three years and a more than reliable Nick Anderson handling the rock. However, after four years of missed opportunities and shortcomings, Shaq left The Sunshine State in the summer of 1996 with a mediocre playoff record of 18-18.

Enter Los Angeles.

At the time of Shaq's arrival in La La Land, the Lakers had come fresh off an impressive 53-win season yet their season came to an abrupt end with a disappointing first round exit (3-1 to the Rockets) in the playoffs. Instantly, the Shaq acquisition brought new hope to Lakers fans who longed for the days of the Showtime Lakers. Shaq finished his inaugural Lakers season averaging 26.2/12.5/2.9 alongside a versatile, second-year swingman in Eddie Jones (17.2 ppg/4.1 rpg/3.4 apg), a serviceable point guard in Nick Van Exel (15.3 ppg/8.5 apg), and an 18-year-old rookie by the name of Kobe Bryant. Shaq's Lakers lost in the Western Finals that year, 4-1 to the Utah Jazz (Shaq's playoff averages: 26.9/10.6; Kobe's averages: 8.2/1.2), followed by a demoralizing 4-0 sweep the next year at the hands of the same Jazz squad (Shaq's playoff averages: 30.5/10.2; Kobe's averages: 8.7/1.9) .

In the lockout-shortened 1998-99 season the Lakers finished with a 31-19 record and got swept in the Western semifinals by the eventual NBA champs San Antonio Spurs. That season an up-and-coming Kobe Bryant emerged as a quality guard, apparent by his increasing averages throughout the season (points: 19.9, rebounds: 5.3, assists: 3.8) and in the postseason (19.8/6.9/4.6).

In the 1999-2000 campaign the Lakers had finally become a full-fledged powerhouse as they finished with a league best 67-15 record and steamrolled their way to the NBA Finals. That year Shaq put up a career high in points, averaging 29.7 over the course of the season en route to being named league MVP. A maturing Kobe Bryant once again increased his numbers, averaging a then career high 22.5 ppg/6.3 rpg/4.9 apg. The Shaq/Kobe combo went on to beat the Pacers in six games to claim their first title together and the Lakers 12th title as a franchise. During that magical playoff run Shaq averaged a historic 30.7 ppg, 15.4 rpg, 3.1 apg on his way to collecting his first Finals MVP. Yet, Kobe wasn't a slotch by any means. Kobe's impressive emergence in the 2000 NBA playoffs (21.1/4.5/4.4) suddenly blasted him to superstardom.

The following year Shaq averaged 30.4/15.4/3.2 as the Lakers went on to demolish an overmatched 76ers squad in five games to complete the title defense. That year, an improving Bryant put up equally impressive numbers including 28.5 ppg on the season and an inspiring 29.4 ppg/7.3 rpg/6.1 apg during the playoffs. It was official, even though Shaq nabbed his second consecutive Finals MVP, Kobe Bryant had arrived.

In the final Dynasty year, the Lakers (58-24) swept the overwhelmed New Jersey Nets to claim their third title in as many years behind the Kobe/Shaq duo and their 26.6 ppg and 28.5 ppg playoff averages, respectively. Like clockwork, Shaq claimed his third consecutive Finals MVP as Kobe once again played Robin to Shaq's Batman.

Now as you take time to digest all those number I just threw at you, remember that Shaq was putting up huge playoff numbers in an Orlando uniform (three years: 25.3 ppg/11.6 rpg) yet couldn't quite reach a title. And it's not like Shaq didn't have help during his time in Florida. His swingman Penny Hardaway averaged a respectable 18.7/6.7/7.0 in 93-94, 19.6/3.8/7.7 in 94-95 and 23.3/4.7/6.0 in 95-96. As a matter of fact, during that three year stretch Penny Hardaway was a starter on the All-Star team in 94' and 95' and carried the Magic to a 17-5 record after Shaq went down with an injury to start the 95' season. In other words, it's not like Shaq was playing with cast-offs, has-beens and fresh-out-of-high-school scrubs.

Even during his first two years in a Lakers uniform, Shaq was unable to take his team to the promise land with Jones and Van Exel as his sidekicks. It wasn't until Kobe Bryant emerged as a legitimate scorer and one of the top 20 players in the league that Shaq begin to win in the postseason with consistency. His pre-"just heading into my prime" Kobe (1994-1998) playoff record: 29-29, no titles, .500 winning percentage. His "OK, I'm officially in my prime" Kobe playoff record through the three-peat: 48-18, three titles, .727 winning percentage.

In the larger scheme of things at this point in Shaq's career he's completely expendable. During the NBA all-star break there was talk of Shaq possibly returning to Los Angeles to play alongside Kobe again even if it meant he had to come off the bench (behind Andrew Bynum, someone else Shaq openly criticized) in a supportive role, just as long as it meant he had a shot at a title. Yeah, right. That's like saying Jennifer Aniston wouldn't mind participating in a threesome with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie if it meant she could have the third lead role in "Mr. and Mrs. Smith 2."

In the last four years Shaq has switched uniforms twice and it's looking more and more like he's going to be trading in his Phoenix jersey for another one this summer. Look, Shaq's nearing the end of his career, there's no doubt about that. His production - and contract - is becoming disposable as his production continues to drop. It happens. Even Joe Montana was traded to the Chiefs, Brett Favre was traded to the Jets, Hakeem Olajuwon was traded to the Raptors, Patrick Ewing was traded to the SuperSonics then to the Orlando Magic. I get it, talent begins to fade and teams start looking for younger, more agile, and cheaper players.

With this said, can you see Kobe Bryant being traded? Ever? Will the Lakers ever toss around Kobe Bryant's contract like TLC is tossing around Jon and Kate Gosselin's soon-to-be-expiring "Jon and Kate Plus 8" contract?

Forgive me if I'm wrong but I don't see it happening. Ever. Shaq will get an offer to do "Kazaam 2" before Kobe effin' Bryant gets traded.

In the end, The Diesel had all the tools and all the assets to go the distance with the Orlando Magic team he inherited his rookie season, but couldn't do it. Not his first year, his second, his third, or his fourth. He wasn't playing with the likes of Chris Mihm, Jumaine Jones, Kareem Rush, Smush Parker, Stanislav Medvedenko, Samaki Walker, and Kwame Brown like Kobe was during the post-Shaq years - to which he was endlessly being scrutinized for being a selfish player and a bad teammate. I MEAN LOOK AT THOSE GUYS!!! Those guys wouldn't be starters in a pick-up game at 24-Hour Fitness let alone the NBA.

All this postmortem talk that Kobe needed Shaq to win his three titles and now he needs to prove he can win without Shaq is bull. Unfortunately, what keeps this discussion going is Shaq's antics throughout it all. His celebration in Kobe's failures. Though Shaq may say he wants Kobe to win his fourth title this year, a part in him certainly knows if #24 is to raise the Larry O'Brien trophy in two weeks time, Kobe not only won without him, he one-upped him. Unlike Shaq, Kobe can confidently say he was the best player on a post-Dynasty team.

Like my coach told me, a great center will win you games, but a great guard will win you championships. Shaq will go down as one of the top-5 centers of all-time when it's all said and done, but you better believe his hand would definately be a lot lighter had it not been for the emergence of one, Kobe Bryant.

On the Eve of Game 7

Ah, Game 7’s. You gotta love ‘em. Game 7’s separate the men from the boys, the champions from the chumps, the contenders from the pretenders. But enough with the tired out clichés and unnecessary hype, how do game 7’s manifest in the first place?

Well, in the case of Kobe and the Lakers, they come from an inability to close out the Yao-less and McGrady-less Houston Rockets squad who in games 5 and 6 started nobody over 6’9". That towering 6-foot, 9-inch power forward? LUIS FREAKIN’ SCOLA!!! Never mind the fact two of the main six players in Houston’s rotation sport a fauxhawk, the Rockets are becoming the George Mason of the NBA playoffs.

Two of their best three players, out. A coach who Phil Jackson completely owns in the playoffs (Rick Adelman, see: Lakers-Kings) manning the Rockets sidelines. A center in Chuck Hayes, who … it’s CHUCK HAYES!!! You couldn’t ask for a better situation for the Lakers to inherit. Yet, with each eye-opening, double-digit win, comes an equally eye-opening, double-digit loss. Certainly not what the doctor ordered. Trust me, I’m a doctor.

I wrote a piece about the LeBron James era a few days ago and received a mixed response. An argument on whose decade it actually is enthusiastically ensued. Predictably, Kobe Bryant activists leaned on his three rings – from a prior generation and with Shaq, I might add – to defend the Kobe era. (I’ve seem to have misplaced Kobe’s 3 air ball game up in Utah, can anyone remind me where I put it?)

It goes without saying, Kobe is a great player, probably one of the 10 best to ever strap on a pair of sneakers, but his uncanny ability to hoist bad shots in the blink of an eye is problematic. His uncanny ability to alienate his teammates is unrivaled. Simply put, Kobe is probably the least liked superstar in the league, amongst his teammates.

(If you think about it, you hear stuff like this all the time, “older player X is past their prime and is willing to take less money to play with LeBron.” Need I mind you, LeBron James plays basketball in Cleveland? Cleveland, people! Who wants to go to a town with the Browns and the Indians as their beloved sports franchises and Drew Carey as their public representative? Yet, I continuously hear aging veterans want to go there to play alongside this Jordan like phenom known as LeBron James. I have yet to hear a story about someone taking a pay cut to play alongside Kobe Bryant in LA, besides Derek Fisher, who already had a tie to the organization from the 3-peat days in purple-and-gold. And it’s FREAKIN Los Angeles!!!)

Just by watching telecasts of Cavaliers games LeBron is either an excellent teammate, or an Academy Award worthy actor. There’s no denying the players on this Cavaliers team thoroughly enjoy playing alongside the King (even if it means less touches for them). The goofy picture-taking before games, the dancing around on the bench during games, the genuine affection LeBron shows these guys is awe-inspiring. And what’s even better is it doesn’t seem to be forced.

Think of all the starting/rotation guys on this current Cleveland squad. Ben Wallace, Delonte West, Wally Szczerbiak (had to Google the spelling of that one), Joe Smith, Daniel Gibson, Zydrunas Ilgauskas (another Googling), Anderson Varejao. Not exactly the 1995-96 Chicago Bulls. Yet, LeBron has made these guys relevant and has transformed a team full of outcasts into contenders. I mean, who’s stopping Varejao from becoming just another Vlade Divic? Who’s stopping Wally from becoming another Eric Piatkowski (I actually spelled that right on the first try, believe it!)? Who’s stopping Ben Wallace from decomposing into an older Kwame Brown?

LeBron James, that’s who.

If you look at the box scores from the games these two superduperstars had in Madison Square Garden earlier this year you’ll see my point:

Kobe Bryant: 61 points, 3 assists, 0 rebounds
LeBron James: 52 points, 11 Assists, 9 rebounds

Sure, both teams came out victorious (they were playing the Knicks, need I remind you) but which box score (note, I said “box score” stands out more)? Sure, 61 points is one hell of an accomplishment, but basketball is a TEAM sport, it’s not tennis or golf. I’ll take the accumulative total of assists and rebounds over an excess amount of points any day. You think Kobe was looking to find Luke Walton in the corner for a wide-open 3? You think he was willing to kick it back out to Sasha Vujacic for a 13-footer from the baseline? You think Kobe applauded when Trevor Ariza pulled up from the free throw line and drained a 15-footer? Call me crazy but I think Kobe was more aware of Spike Lee in the front row than Lamar Odom or Derek Fisher on the court.

Live from Madison Square Garden, iiiiiiit’s Kobe Doin’ Work!

In the end, #24 has the better surrounding cast. He has a big, mobile and somewhat tough post player in Pau Gasol who he can dump it down to at any given time and two versatile, lengthy, athletic, somewhat agile swingmen in Lamar Odom and Andrew Bynum. He has the highly-decorated Zen Master sitting on the bench calling – well, presumably – plays from the bench. And the X-Factor in all this? Jack Nicholson sitting courtside!

LeBron is trotting out there night in and night out with Wally, Wallace, Williams, Ilgauskas, Varejao and Joe Smith. If this is what the MVP is doing with this less-than-superb Cavaliers cast, just imagine what he’d be doing with the 2008-09 Lakers squad. Yet, despite the lack of talent on the court, he’s making them all better, not because he’s filming the new ESPN documentary “LeBron Doin’ Work” but because he genuinely wants them to have a ring just as much, if not more, than he does. He wants Cleveland to have a ring. He wants to put an end to the misery in C-Town. He’s made basketball relevant in Cleveland and you can tell he desperately wants to keep it that way. With each passing day the 2010 LeBron Sweepstakes looks more and more sealed and delivered.

On the other hand, you think Kobe wants to win a ring for Los Angeles? For the Lakers? Let me provide this stat: Kobe with Shaq in LA: 3 rings. Shaq without Kobe in Miami: 1. Kobe without Shaq in LA: 0. You don’t think that very stat wares on Kobe’s mind night in and night out? I can guarantee you Kobe’s not concerned about getting DJ Mbenga or Shannon Brown to call their own. Kobe Bryant wants a ring for Kobe Bryant and nobody else.

Which brings me to this upcoming do-or-die game 7. If the Lakers somehow lose tomorrow it’s going to be the biggest choke since, well, last summer when the Celtics erased a seemingly insurmountable lead (in LA) to take the series lead 3-1. My thing is, if you replaced 2009 Kobe with 2009 LeBron you think the Lakers would be heading back to LA for a game 7? You think LeBron lets his team lose to a Houston team with Chuck Hayes as their center and Luis Scola as their power forward regardless of where the game is played? For some reason I don’t think the King would let that happen.

You saw what he did to a worn-down and old Pistons squad as well as an under matched and injured Hawks team. He dismembered them. He didn’t give them a swinger’s chance to snatch a game from his team. He didn’t allow his team to lose on a fluke call or a lucky shot. He knew the other team was weak and he capitalized on it. Watching the first two rounds of the Cavs’ 2009 campaign was like watching Liam Neeson terrorize his way through Paris in “Taken.” It simply wasn’t fair.

Isn’t that what superstars are supposed to do against inferior talent? Aren’t they supposed to wipe them off the court and make them sorry for even stepping into the arena? That’s exactly what LeBron and Co. did. Eight games, eight wins. All by double-digits.

On the other hand, the Houston Rockets come into Staples with a swinger’s chance. They have the nobody-believes-in-us card on their side as well as the accomplishment of winning in that building not more than two weeks ago in their pocket – with Yao Ming, mind you.

LeBron James and Kobe Bryant are hungry. Actually, hungry doesn’t accurately describe their thirst for a title. They’re starving for a title. Yet, with a looming game 7 in Los Angeles, while #24 preps for this possibly legacy-changing game, LeBron James is sitting comfortably at home waiting for it all to unfold.

Who knows, maybe he’s even watching “Kobe Doin' Work.”

"Witness"ing History

I know this is going to sound like basketball blasphemy but ... ummm ... uhhh ... I don't really remember the Jordan Era. Well, besides his Academy Award worthy performance alongside Larry Bird, Larry Johnson, Charles Barkley, Muggsy Bogues, Shawn Bradley and Bugs Bunny in "Space Jam."

(Allowing time for the 'Boos' to die down and the tomatoes to whizz by my head. OK, I get it. No, really I get it.)

I guess that previous statement isn't completely true. I remember the infamous Salt Lake City Dagger over Bryon Russell, but that's about it. At age 20 going on 21, I feel like I was robbed of one of the purest, more exciting eras in sports history.

But hey, there's no use crying over spilled milk right? Especially when I'm currently knee-deep in the LeBron James Era.

Looking back, I don't think there was ever a cemented era in my lifetime. I don't think there was a Kobe Bryant Era, a Shaquille O'Neal Era, a Tim Duncan Era or even an Allen Iverson Era to bridge the gap between the Jordan Era and the current LeBron Era. I was old enough to remember the Lakers' reign on top back in the early 2000s and remember that Kobe and O'Neal were unworldly together. Like peanut butter and jelly. You couldn't have one without the other. And that's the reason why I don't think either claimed the era as their own. They were a two-headed monster destroying everything in sight (mainly, the Kings' window of opportunity), yet Shaq and Kobe will always be remembered for what they accomplished together. But is that necessarily a bad thing? Hardly.

We'll always remember that Lakers squad for the three-peat and the incredible dynamic between its two superstars. They carried the sport coming off one of the most exciting decades in NBA history. Their domination speaks in volumes to their unworldly skill and competitive fire. To this day, I still believe the Kobe-Shaq Alley-Oop vs. the Blazers is the single greatest sports highlight ever.

(Quick Tangent: Some of the other best sports highlights of my time: Tiger's improbable chip-in at The Masters in 2005 and ensuing fist pump. Tiger's slithery birdie putt on 18 to tie Rocco Mediate at Torrey Pines in the 2008 U.S. Open and ensuing DOUBLE-FISTED fist pump. Rocco Mediate's reaction to Tiger's birdie putt. Mark McGwire's record-breaking 62nd home run in 1998. Rafael Palmeiro pointing at congress vehemently denying ever using steroids in 2005. Baron Davis posterizing Andrea Kirilenko in the 2007 NBA playoffs. Kevin Garnett's "ANYTHING IS POSSIBLLLLLLLE" exclamation after winning the 2008 NBA Finals. Vince Carter's dunk over 7-footer, Frenchman Frederic Weis in the 2000 summer Olympics in Sydney ."The Helmet Catch." Brady Quinn sitting alone in the green room at the 2007 NFL Draft. Michael Crabtree's reaction when Darius Heyward-Bey was taken by the Oakland Raiders at number 7 in the 2008 Draft.)

Still, during the early 00's you couldn't separate the two, no matter how hard you tried. When you talked about the Lakers - or basketball in general - you talked about Shaq AND Kobe. It was never one or the other. In a sense, they were like Mary Kate and Ashley Olson. They were dynamo together yet their mystique vanished a little bit when they were mentioned apart. In La-La Land it got to a certain point where both names effortlessly meshed together to form one long alias, like Bennifer or Brangelina, as it became almost ludicrous to say one without the other.

(Quick Tangent 2: Other inseparable pairings during their respective primes: Spencer and Heidi. Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. Carson Daly and TRL. Eminem and Dr. Dre. Will Smith and Carlton Banks. Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff. Eric Forman and Donna Pinciotti. Will Ferrel and John C. Reilly. Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson. Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino.)

Tim Duncan on the other hand is a different case. Tim Duncan is a sure shot Hall-of-Famer with the hardware (four rings) and accolades (Rookie of the Year 1998, 2-time NBA MVP, 3-time NBA Finals MVP, 11-time all-star) to prove it. He too came up during the post-Jordan Era and succeeded.

Paired with David Robinson in 1998 the Spurs had all the makings of an up-and-coming dynasty (which in hindsight proved to be true: four titles in eight years) and Duncan had all the makings of an era-defining superstar. However, as time passed Duncan adopted the Tiger Woods mentality towards the media, Just Answer The Question. Trying to get some personality out of Timmy was like pulling teeth. Timmy had the polished skills to go head-to-head with any superstar of his generation, yet he lacked a certain "it" factor that would've elevated him to a whole 'nother level. Superduperstardom. He didn't have Shaq's flamboyant personality or Kobe's youthful charisma or Iverson's outspoken opinions ("PRACTICE?!?!?").

(This is why this clip is such a trip and so fun to watch.)

There's no doubt, Tim Duncan will go down as one of the top 25 players ever to play in the game of basketball, but his era - much like his personality - will be remembered quietly.

Enter King James.

I still remember being on a family trip in Reno and watching one of his televised high school games (back when high school basketball games weren't normally televised). At the time I wasn't thinking much of it; a freakish athlete playing against high school scrubs, big cahoot. Looking back in hindsight LeBron James was much more than an up-and-coming superstar.

He, was the era defining superstar the NBA desperately needed. During and after the Shaq trade, the media religiously dubbed Kobe Bryant as the next Michael Jordan. The parallels between the two were rounding into shape but the comparison never seemed to stick. It goes without saying, Kobe Bryant was hell bent on being the first Kobe Bryant rather than the second Michael Jordan. Instead of assuming the role of Jordan 2.0 Kobe separated himself from the notion and the comparisons were kaput.

(Quick Tangent 3: With the hip-hop industry turning to a younger nucleus of fresh faces here are a few of "The Nexts": Charles Hamilton - The Next Kanye West. B.o.B. - The Next Andre 3000. Asher Roth - The Next Eminem. Drake - The Next Lil Wayne. Lupe Fiasco - The Next Jay-Z. Ne-Yo - The Next Brian McKnight. Keyshia Cole - The Next Mary J. Blige. Keri Hilson - The Next Toni Braxton.)

When LeBron entered the league in 2003 the expectations seemed insurmountable. Not even Michael Jordan faced this much limelight in his rookie campaign. The era was desperate for fresh face. In the 2003-2004 season Kobe had Shaq were playing for an unprecedented 4-peat, Kevin Garnett was finally getting his shot at a title, and we got our first glimpse of "The Next Jordan."

Over the last six years, we've already seen LeBron hit full Jordan mode (2007 Eastern Conference Playoffs vs. the Pistons) and something tells me, his best is yet to come. His physical presence can only be compared to that of an in-shape Shaq and his athleticism is off the charts. I remember watching his 48-point coming out party against the Pistons at a friend's house. We sat there in complete disbelief, instinctively realizing we was watching something special. I finally had my first real basketball memory. Something to tell my grandkids about.

Two seasons full of thousands of highlight dunks and dozes of awe-inspiring shots later, the NBA finally has an era to hang its hat on. The LeBron Era.

Seeing LeBron in these playoffs has only added to his ceiling. I remember predicting two things about King James about three years into his still-budding career: 1. he was going to average a triple-double over the course of one season and 2. he was going to be the best NBA player in history. Yep, history. Was that second predication premature? Of course. Was it considered basketball nonsense at the time? No doubt. But was I that far off? I don't think so.

Michael Jordan won his first title in his seventh year in the league, LeBron looks like he's going to win his first in his sixth. Jordan won his first MVP in his fourth year, LeBron just won his first in his sixth (becoming the youngest player to win the award in the process, by the way). All I'm saying is he's getting there. Quickly.

More important than all the accolades and praise, is the inner fire needed to compete at the highest level each and every game. LeBron is channeling his inner MJ with every playoff game. He senses it. He can taste it. His fire may not burn as fiercely as Jordan's did but it's pretty damn close. He makes the game look so easy. For instance, in game 2 of the Eastern Conference semi-finals, with the clock running down in the first half LeBron dribbled the ball across half-court, did a little step back and heaved the ball from 40-feet. Swoosh. Heaved is actually the wrong word. He didn't "heave" the ball, he shot it. Beautifully. Just like he was shooting it from 10 feet. In form. Elbow above the knee. 40-footer, nothing but net. I mean, Wow.

Though I may not have been around to see Jordan's 63 point explosion in the Boston Garden, or "The Shot," or his famous dunk on Patrick Ewing, who knows what highlights the King has in store for us Generation Y'ers. Stay tuned.

Who knows, we may even get a "Space Jam 2" out of it.