It was bittersweet for me to learn yesterday that Scot Shields, the last remaining link on the Angels to the team's 2002 World Championship, is
likely to retire after the season ends on Sunday. And even if he doesn't retire, he would almost certainly not be a Halo in 2011. I was reminiscing a few weeks back with a good buddy of mine about the 2002 World Series and the way we clawed back from the brink of elimination, a 5-0 deficit to the Giants with one out in the seventh inning of Game 6, and went on to win the whole damn thing in seven games. It's wonderfully gratifying to be a dog for so long and then to finally have your day. The exhilaration of long deferred glory after it's finally achieved is something Yankee fans will never know. Winning means so much more when you've spent the vast majority of your life losing. The Angels made the playoffs in '79, '82 and '86, but they also had so many horseshit seasons, especially in the 90s, until at last, improbably, they won 99 games in 2002, after starting the season 6-14. They made it into the playoffs for the first time in 15 years as the wild card, and while they definitely were not the best or most talented team in baseball that year, they got hot at exactly the right time. Under-the-radar rookies and youngsters - Chone Figgins, Francisco Rodriguez and, yes, Scot Shields - made unexpectedly important contributions, as did scrappy gamers like David
Eckstein, Scott Spiezio, and Adam Kennedy, and big-time vets like Garrett Anderson, Troy Percival, and Tim Salmon. The Angels got past the Yankees in the first round,
which would have been enough for me at the time. But the Angels were a Team of Destiny that year, and they finished off the Twins in the ALCS, making it to the World Series for the first time in franchise history. My buddy and I went to Game 1 of the Series at the Big A that year, courtesy of a connection my dad has through the MLBPA. The stadium was still called Edison Field at the time in spite of the recent rolling blackouts that had sullied the reputations of all the major power concerns doing business in California. This was also just one year removed from 9/11. With the OC being what it is, the vibe at the stadium was nauseatingly over-the-top in its belligerence and chauvinism masquerading as love of country: Fighter planes roaring over the stadium during the National Anthem; douchebags waving their flags; the full cavity probe from the Homeland Security workers upon our entry into the stadium...The Angels lost that Game 1 of the 2002 World Series, but the most memorable thing about it was the home run Barry Bonds hit in the second inning off lefty Jarrod Washburn, a shot that had to have traveled at least 525 feet on a high line drive. The
ball looked like an missile flying through the air, and it sucked the air and life right out of the Big A when it finally landed toward the back of the right field pavilion. I had never seen, and have not seen since then, a ball hit so far, so fast. Thinking about it now serves as a reminder that the 2002 World Series was the absolute pinnacle of the steroid era in baseball. The rumors I've heard are that the Angels clubhouse that year was like a makeshift PED lab. Exhibit A: Ben Weber always seemed like he was ready to eat your kids and pets alive if you looked at him the wrong way. That's a conversation for another time. This is supposed to be in honor of Shieldsy... Scot Shields survived the steroid era and was arguably the best eighth-inning pitcher in the game for a stretch of about 3 or 4 years. He was an indispensable part of what I like to think of as the new breed of Angels teams that emerged in the naughties, when the organization began to consistently commit itself to
winning and making the playoffs every year. It also bears mentioning that Francisco Rodriguez would in all likelihood not have had the amazing success he had, and would not have become the incredibly rich man he is today, if Scot Shields had not been around to set up all those games for him. Shields was a study in gritty durability. He threw a 95mph heater with filthy-dirty movement, and his rubber arm enabled him to do it night after night. He also seemed like a really good teammate. He was a fixture in the Angels dugout long after he was placed on the DL for an extensive period of time last year, imparting knowledge to the youngsters and just being there because that's what you do when you buy into the team concept. I actually hope he does end up retiring. I admire ballplayers who know when they're done and don't try to get one more contract after they're past their sell-by date, particularly if they've already made plenty of money. Why be greedy? It's so much more dignified when a ballplayer recognizes that his time has come and gone and doesn't try desperately to hang on. I suppose this is easy for me to say as no one will ever offer me unimaginable riches to ply my trade. But whatever Shieldsy decides to do, he's been a great Angel. I always felt confident when Sosh gave him the ball, always knew that the game was on the verge of being
just another Halo victory. Good luck, Scotie, and thank you...
It was bittersweet for me to learn yesterday that Scot Shields, the last remaining link on the Angels to the team's 2002 World Championship, is likely to retire after the season ends on Sunday. And even if he doesn't retire, he would almost certainly not be a Halo in 2011. I was reminiscing a few weeks back with a good buddy of mine about the 2002 World Series and the way we clawed back from the brink of elimination, a 5-0 deficit to the Giants with one out in the seventh inning of Game 6, and went on to win the whole damn thing in seven games. It's wonderfully gratifying to be a dog for so long and then to finally have your day. The exhilaration of long deferred glory after it's finally achieved is something Yankee fans will never know. Winning means so much more when you've spent the vast majority of your life losing. The Angels made the playoffs in '79, '82 and '86, but they also had so many horseshit seasons, especially in the 90s, until at last, improbably, they won 99 games in 2002, after starting the season 6-14. They made it into the playoffs for the first time in 15 years as the wild card, and while they definitely were not the best or most talented team in baseball that year, they got hot at exactly the right time. Under-the-radar rookies and youngsters - Chone Figgins, Francisco Rodriguez and, yes, Scot Shields - made unexpectedly important contributions, as did scrappy gamers like David Eckstein, Scott Spiezio, and Adam Kennedy, and big-time vets like Garrett Anderson, Troy Percival, and Tim Salmon. The Angels got past the Yankees in the first round, 
which would have been enough for me at the time. But the Angels were a Team of Destiny that year, and they finished off the Twins in the ALCS, making it to the World Series for the first time in franchise history. My buddy and I went to Game 1 of the Series at the Big A that year, courtesy of a connection my dad has through the MLBPA. The stadium was still called Edison Field at the time in spite of the recent rolling blackouts that had sullied the reputations of all the major power concerns doing business in California. This was also just one year removed from 9/11. With the OC being what it is, the vibe at the stadium was nauseatingly over-the-top in its belligerence and chauvinism masquerading as love of country: Fighter planes roaring over the stadium during the National Anthem; douchebags waving their flags; the full cavity probe from the Homeland Security workers upon our entry into the stadium...The Angels lost that Game 1 of the 2002 World Series, but the most memorable thing about it was the home run Barry Bonds hit in the second inning off lefty Jarrod Washburn, a shot that had to have traveled at least 525 feet on a high line drive. The
ball looked like an missile flying through the air, and it sucked the air and life right out of the Big A when it finally landed toward the back of the right field pavilion. I had never seen, and have not seen since then, a ball hit so far, so fast. Thinking about it now serves as a reminder that the 2002 World Series was the absolute pinnacle of the steroid era in baseball. The rumors I've heard are that the Angels clubhouse that year was like a makeshift PED lab. Exhibit A: Ben Weber always seemed like he was ready to eat your kids and pets alive if you looked at him the wrong way. That's a conversation for another time. This is supposed to be in honor of Shieldsy... Scot Shields survived the steroid era and was arguably the best eighth-inning pitcher in the game for a stretch of about 3 or 4 years. He was an indispensable part of what I like to think of as the new breed of Angels teams that emerged in the naughties, when the organization began to consistently commit itself to 
winning and making the playoffs every year. It also bears mentioning that Francisco Rodriguez would in all likelihood not have had the amazing success he had, and would not have become the incredibly rich man he is today, if Scot Shields had not been around to set up all those games for him. Shields was a study in gritty durability. He threw a 95mph heater with filthy-dirty movement, and his rubber arm enabled him to do it night after night. He also seemed like a really good teammate. He was a fixture in the Angels dugout long after he was placed on the DL for an extensive period of time last year, imparting knowledge to the youngsters and just being there because that's what you do when you buy into the team concept. I actually hope he does end up retiring. I admire ballplayers who know when they're done and don't try to get one more contract after they're past their sell-by date, particularly if they've already made plenty of money. Why be greedy? It's so much more dignified when a ballplayer recognizes that his time has come and gone and doesn't try desperately to hang on. I suppose this is easy for me to say as no one will ever offer me unimaginable riches to ply my trade. But whatever Shieldsy decides to do, he's been a great Angel. I always felt confident when Sosh gave him the ball, always knew that the game was on the verge of being just another Halo victory. Good luck, Scotie, and thank you...
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