With the Angels taking a commanding lead over the Twinkies of 3-1 in the ALCS, I have easily slipped back into my ancestral Angel-backing, dormant since the Great Collapse of '86.

Though I'm still a Chuck Finley man, I would love to see an all-Cal World Series with the Giants and Angels trading blows for the ring. With or without chemical enhancement, Barry Bonds just looks awesome, and there is no way you can ignore his last two seasons: two of the greatest in Major League history. My estimation of him personally went up several notches yesterday, when after yanking a game-tying three-run bomb into the Bay, he planted a big juicy kiss on his batboy/son right at home plate: surly he was not.

Where do we turn for insight on the long-suffering OC heroes? To some great SoCal bloggers of course. Matt Welch gives us a slice of Angels history:

Now that some of you have become at least temporary Angels fans, it behooves me to spread a little of the team's trivial history. For instance, one thing that makes the 2002 team positively jump out, compared to all others, is its absolute lack of an aging, over-the-hill slugger.

This is a category my team has specialized in since its inception in 1961, when 36-year-old Ted Kluszewski hit 15 home runs in his final year, and 32-year-old Steve Bilko hit 20 in his second-to-last. In recent seasons, of course, the most notable over-the-hill slugger has been Mo Vaughn (1999-2001). But last year's team also featured the final pathetic gasp of Glenallen Hill (.136, 1 HR in 66 at-bats), who in turn was trying to fill in for the unspectacular Ron Gant. And before Fat Mo, there was Really Fat Cecil Fielder.

Many great power hitters who you don't associate with my team came through town for a cough or two, before sputtering out. One of my very first baseball memories as a kid was watching an obviously creaky Frank Robinson hit a monster home run out near the Big A. Eddie Murray spent most of his final season (1997) flailing in an Angels uniform (.219, 3 HR in 160 AB). Super Daves Winfield and Parker teamed up to do nothing much in 1991. Bobby Bonds (1976-77) had one bad season, one great, and was gone. Dave Kingman and Rickey Henderson each stopped by for about a week.

Most of this was deliberate (if idiotic) strategy, but sometimes it paid off. Many people thought Reggie Jackson was over the hill when Gene Autry lured him from the Yankees in 1982; instead, he hit 39 home runs, the team came within three innings of the World Series, and got even closer in Jackson's final year (1986). Most every former Baltimore Oriole we snapped up — Bobby Grich, Don Baylor, Doug DeCinces — developed into legitimate power hitters while wearing Angel uniforms, and helped us to three division titles in eight pretty good years of baseball.

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