Bronx & Beans

What a great time it is when the Los Angeles Angels come to New York.

Oh and yes, I get it Michael Kay, smirk, smirk, smirk they are the Los Angeles Angels of Disneyland Orange County-55 Freeway. Smirk, smirk, derisive chuckle, chuckle. Yes, I get it. It's an attempt at humor from a guy without a sense of it.

Anyway, it's always a beautiful thing to be a Halo fan in New York when they make their annual pillage of the pinstripes every summer.

Oh wait...this just in: Vlad just put one in the monuments. 10-2 good guys.

A confession: I like the Yankees, hate the Red Sox and hate the Mets. In other words. Yankee fans, don't whine. You don't do that. Neither do Angel fans. Red Sox and Met fans? They whine. I hate them.

This just in part 2. Please tell Paul O'Neil to do two things, stop talking about how his wife in Ohio was 50 pounds overweight and always hungry when she was preggers and quit referring to the Angels as "Anaheim." Paul, you've spent plenty of time in Anaheim. You know the place. There's a reason it's not in their name anymore. IT'S A DUMP. I should know. I grew up there. Five minutes from the Big A. You've been to LA. 22 miles up the freeway. Cool place. Great clubs, restaurants, ladies.

This just in 3: Pudged just punched out at the plate. Fans boo. He's safe by a foot. Gets his hand easily under the tag. Horrible call. Michael Kay does his outraged homer routine. Fans boo some more. I think of Hank Stram in that old NFL Films clip......Outstanding call ump. You're a good umpire!! Have a seat superstar.

With the Halos on a historic run, it's time for the a little perspective. Note to New York baseball fans if you got this far. from here on out I will be writing about a professional baseball franchise not located in one of the five boroughs. That means there are other teams in the Major Leagues. Really.

Let me tell you what it has been like being an Angel fan my whole life. Just wipe away the past seven years please. Let's go back to my first Angel game at the Big A. I'm 6, my dad has me and my sister who was 7 in the cheap seats in right field. Two drunks guys keep talking.

This just in 4: Xavier Nady hits one out. Oh my goodness. Or as Michael Kay says with his usual pitch-perfect perspective. "The Yankees have now cut the lead to 10-3!!!" Against the hottest club in baseball. In Yankee Stadium. A place the Angels own. Against the best pen in baseball. I'm nervous. I'm really nervous.

So it's 1970 and the Angels are playing the Royals at the Big A. Two drunk guys are either joking with my dad or threatening his life. But the Halos lose. Flash forward through a life of such Angel idols as Dave Chalk and Morris Nettles and Rudy Meoli, did I mention Joe Lahoud. It's 1982. I have just graduated from high school. Three of my friends and I are driving around Disneyland. There's a strip bar right near the parking lot of Disneyland. A strange location. 13 years later, across the street. Tony Phillips our high-strung second baseman gets popped for smoking crack in a motel room with a Pirate-themed motif.

So we use our fake ids to get into this strip club and it's hot cream wrestling night. The Yanks are in town. And at least three Yanks are in the club. My buddies and I get into a bidding war with the three Yankees to watch these three girls wrestle in front of us. No, I'm not going to name names but let's just say one of the Yanks is in Cooperstown now. Look up the '82 Yanks roster. Figure it out. We lost out. So did my Angels. Until "Soshe" took over. Things were painful. A little word association. Lyman Bostock. Mike Miley. Donnie Moore. All dead. All former Halos.

Things are different now. To be an Angel fan in New York is to not be ignored. Yankee fans and even sad bitter Long Island, er, New York Mets fans must take notice that my team, my team, is the big stick. In the language of SoCal, the big burrito, the king taco. To be an Angel fan is to be on top. And that's how i like it.

Final score, Halos 12, Yankees 6.