The reports of my death...
...are pretty much nonexistent, since anyone reading this blog has long since realized that occasionally I just disappear for a while. This time, though, I have something of an excuse, albeit a boring one: snowed under at work. Much of it is off my back, now, though, so regular blogging to recommence anon.
In the meanwhile, I was at the game yesterday, in which:
- Ersty stuck his thumb in the eye of everyone who doubts his ability to deliver
- Orlando and Fins made meaningful contributions at last
- Jarrod Washburn demonstrated that he's already had his one good start for the year
- Scot Shields reasserted himself
- Frankie stuck the bat up where the sun don't shine on some pretty good hitters
- I got sunburned like a motherf#^$#*.
Like I said, more to come. However, I think it's pretty clear already that the immediate future, for the Angels, is going to come down to (1) whether the starting pitching can give them innings, and (2) whether Figgins and the DaVanon/Rivera platoon can be expected to provide anything at all offensively.