Okay, why do I write about the Angels? Well, because when my dad used to take me on two week camping trips I'd bring my radio and listen to the games deep in the mountains. The signal was usually lousy, but I would stick with it until I found the game. That was the good news. The bad news was that my whole camping trip was ruined if the Angels lost. Then I moved to Europe, and I still couldn't shake them. I'd buy the International Herald Tribune and sit in a cafe sweating out the results of a game. Bad. But it was all worth it in 2002. I was at game 6, one of the most magical baseball games ever to be played, and then of course game 7, when I sat in the stands after the game while Salmon ran around the bases with the trophy over his head thinking to myself how impossible the sight was before me.

Since then the Angels have become perennial contenders - unless they're facing the dreaded Boston Red Sox. The Yankees, no problem. Toronto who? Tampa, come on, they're not going to let Madden beat them. But Boston. A mental block as big as the green monster - and I'm with them every step of the way.

I'll poke 'em. Prod 'em. Analyze 'em. Judge 'em. But I couldn't get rid of them if I wanted to. And believe me, there have been plenty of times I WANTED to.

Oh, and by the way, for those of you wondering whether the Angels are going to win the World Series this year, I can tell you this. A couple years ago I ran into Mike Scioscia in Newport Beach (Balboa Island to be exact,) and told him how grateful I was to him for giving me a World Series win He smiled and said, "we'll get you another one." So there it is, the Mike Scioscia guarantee.

The only thing he didn't say was when.