Matt Welch and Dave Pell reflect opposite ends of the fan emotion spectrum. Matt glories:
- Mostly, I'm just real happy, happier than I remember being in a long time, as goofy as that sounds. Cubs and Red Sox fans? You're in for a treat, when your day comes. We had the added bonus of not really expecting to win the Series, having never been there before, a point made well by the L.A. Times' Joe Mathews, an actual Angel fan who they let write a smart column throughout the seven games (though not in the Sports section).
....I just got off the phone with Tim Blair, who was calling from Flagstaff, Arizona, where he's about 90% done with delivery of a Chevrolet that contains a bumper sticker bragging that "My child is a vegan honors student!" (He is chain-smoking, and wearing a Dale Earnhardt cap, to compensate.) Anyways, Tim is from Australia, which means he doesn't understand any sport not played with "wickets" on a "pitch," but nevertheless he greatly enjoyed watching the last two games of the Series, rooting hard for the Angels all the way, and living vicariously through us Angel fans (as partial compensation for some tragedy involving "Collingwood" or something equivalent back in Pirate-stan). I've heard variations on this theme from scores of people, and it pleases me to no end — they've adopted our team, even if they hadn't watched baseball in 10 years, and instinctively rooted for the hustling beard-boys over that awesome, self-absorbed supplement-gobbler for the Giants. My extended family — grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, screaming eight-year-olds — all live in Oregon and Washington, and root for the Mariners if anyone, but they were all completely behind the boys in red. We were at my granddad's wake, which was an informal, upbeat event, but nevertheless it didn’t seem like the right place to impose Game Six of the World Series … until I heard the shrieking of about a dozen females, all pointing at the set and yelling taunts at Barry Bonds. I strolled over to see the commotion, just in time to watch Bonds round the bases to make the score 4-0. Over the next hour, things would get so advanced that my own allegedly sports-ignoring mother was positioning my eldest brother and I into the proper "sports fan" position, while my niece made sure I stood up in the same spot I was when Spiezio hit his three-run home run...
It was a real treat to watch it all, including Game 7, with family, who have all been suffering the Affliction even longer than I have. Aside from my grown brother — aged 39, mind you — not being able to bear staying in the room while the Giants were hitting, for voodoo reasons, everyone behaved well, and we were able to share a very nice moment together. Down south, my Dad and other brother and other grandmother were whooping it up. My sister's husband even managed to get tickets to the game itself. The Welches were represented....
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