Angels Get Yanked from Playoffs, Fans Suffer Five Stages of Sports Grief

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Well, it's finally over.

After 171 grueling regular and postseason games, after all of the ups and downs, tragedies and triumphs, the Los Angels Angels of Anaheim are getting a preemptive jump on the offseason.

It's not the Angels' fault, per say. I cringe to even think it, but though the differences were minor, the New York Yankees were simply the better team, throughout both the regular season and the American League Championship Series.

The starting pitching was fairly evenly matched, but they featured a dominant lefty in CC Sabathia, whom the Angels couldn't touch, while we countered with a sure-fire klutz in Scott Kazmir.

Seriously now, did he have one solid inning this postseason?

The Yankees' bullpen was a bit shaky in the series, but the great Mariano Rivera picked Angels batters apart and helped bolster their creaky relief core.

Meanwhile, the Angels chose to stick with Brian Fuentes, a closer who looked like his mission was actually to blow every save he was handed this year, and just failed 48 times.

More than anything, though, the difference between these two teams was the power. Up and down the Yankees' lineup, guys were belting home runs with ease. 

On our side of the dish, it was a struggle just to get the ball out of the infield for everyone who wasn't named Jeff Mathis. 

Now, some fans have taken the Angels to task for their lack of offense and surprising number of defensive miscues, blaming them for the series loss instead of congratulating the hated Yankees.

It's a reasonable argument, no doubt. The Yanks only mustered four runs in each of the first three games, two of which the Angels had the lead in, but only once did they walk away with a “W.”

The Angels' glove-related gaffs certainly played their part in this series, but I'm not so sure these fans are in their right minds.

No, I'm not saying they're crazy, just in mourning.

Sometimes it's difficult to see the wood for the trees, just as it's difficult to accept the truth about your team when you're suffering through “The Five Stages of Sports Grief.”

Allow me to explain:

Shock

The first and most striking stage, symptoms of shock generally start to show just as the final seconds are ticking off that vile game clock. Or, if you're a baseball fan, as the final out is being cradled in your enemy's glove.

We sit slack-jawed and dumb-founded, staring stupidly at our televisions as if we're searching for some unseen flag or penalty, some official ruling that would force the to game continue in our favor.

While this is generally the shortest stage, beginning just before the end of the game and clearing up by the time the post-game interviews are over, Angels fans had a much more prolonged experience.

For us, shock symptoms set in the moment Chone Figgins and Erick Aybar forgot how to catch a pop-up.

That frightening blunder, more common to elementary school playgrounds than professional ballparks, allowed a run to score in the first inning of Game One and set the tone for the defense.

Throughout the rest of the series, we watched in horrified amazement as Maicer Izturis threw a ball into center field, Mike Napoli bounced a throw into second base on a pitch-out, and Kazmir lobbed an easy out over the first baseman's head. Even Torii Hunter made his first error as an Angel.

Our shock lasted far too long, but once it mercifully ended, it was immediately followed by...

Anger

That's right, anger! What else?!

That raging, boiling, lava-fueled hatred that you just can't hold in any longer so you start blaming everyone in sight including your dog who had to get up and go outside during the 11th inning of Game Two so you weren't there to see Fuentes give up that bomb to A-Rod because if you had been in your seat the mojo wouldn't have shifted and they could have won the game...feeling.

I...sense I've gone too far.

So I'll reel it back a little, as I imagine many Angel fans have done over the past few days. That self-righteous, bitter taste has started to fade from our mouths and we no longer want to kill the athletic trainer for not wearing a rally cap at the end of Game Six.

In fact, we feel so bad for wanting to kill...well, anybody, that when the anger subsides, all we're left with is...

Depression

Aside from the final stage (which we'll get to in a second, so don't read ahead!), depression can be the longest and most difficult stage, and is often accompanied by a sense of helpless confusion.

Like a drunk stumbling through some lost and forbidden alleyway, we find ourselves wondering aloud, “What's this? How did I get here? It can't be...”

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