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!!!)