After withstanding thunder showers on the 40-minute drive up to Yankee Stadium and the "will they or won't they call off the game?" anxiety, here's what I'd like to discuss in today's blog entry:
First, I refuse to refer to the Angels as the "LA Angels of Anaheim". They will always be the California Angels to me. And when I think of an LA team, the only one in my mind worth considering is the Dodgers (and yes, I know that New Yorkers will always bitch about them being from Brooklyn, but my earliest baseball memories were watching Tommy Lasorda, Steve Garvey, and Fernando Valenzuela on TV, dude). Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim... Anaheim is like two hours away from LA - especially with freeway traffic. It's not even in the same friggin' county for chrissake; it's in the O.C. That in itself is just as dumb as the proposal years ago of the San Fernando Valley's secession from the City of Los Angeles, so that they'd call themselves the "City of the Valley". I love California, but dude, that's just ridiculous.
Second, I'm really bummed/bitter because Mussina, as hot as he is, had an awful night pitching, we lost, and we had to be there in person to witness it. I am, by the way, very happy, as everyone else is, that Tino's back. At least five people had to remind me that I was stupid for picking Wednesday instead of Tuesday night box seat tix, but I purposely picked Wednesday because based on the pitching rotation, I would rather watch him than say, Johnson who will NEVER be hot because I'll always envision that mullet, pitch. (And, yes, we missed a fantastic night of A-Rod's multiple homeruns).
And lastly, I have to say that V is AMAZING. I'm so glad she's my friend, because I would crumble if we were ever on opposing sides. As we waited and waited and waited in the queue to exit the parking garage, these drunken, loser yo-yo's from Jersey (no offense, Chett & Liz) in their SUV couldn't decide which direction they wanted to go so they friggin' blocked the ramp that led down to the street level and kept annoyingly honking their horn (like the hundred other cars in line with us had anywhere else to go). When they finally decided to stay along that exit route, they tried to cut my car off, and God bless V, she dashed out of the car and stood in front of them until they let me go. She more than held her own against a car full of idiots, who actually tried to bump her while trash-talking and calling her names. Once we got in, the gents that they were, started throwing spitballs at us... At least, we provided some form of entertainment for the folks stuck there, as eager to head home as we were. :-)
(Anyhow, V - thank you... you're a solid girl and a solid friend! I, for sure, wouldn't have the cajones to pull off that feat, chica... You rock.)