Why I still cheer on the Angels

The Angels lost tonight, and the Yankees are going to the World Series. It's nights like these when I wonder why I put myself through the agony of defeat. Why do I continue to root for my team?

I cheer because every single one of the team players would rather sacrifice themselves than better their batting average. I watch for the moments when Chone Figgins lays a bunt down the third-base line to advance the runner from first to second. For when Juan Rivera hits a pop-up to deep center field in order score the runner from third. It's not the glamour of the home-run, but it's the consistent small ball that more often than not gets the job done.

I also cheer because the Angels never give up hope. I mean, they have a monkey (of all things) that comes on their scoreboard to ignite the crowd and the team on the possibily of a rally. Mickey Hatcher turns his hat inside out, the rally monkey stuffed animals hang from the stands, and sure enough, the hits start a-coming. It's almost magical how it happens. You can never count the Angels out of a game, especially when the fans and the team believe something great will happen.

But most importantly, I cheer for the Angel family. For the team that rallies together after the tragic loss of their teammate. For the team that remembers to include him in Division-winning celebrations. For the team that sacrifices any selfish attempt at glory in order to support a team victory. For the team that never loses hope, whether the odds look dim against the Yankees, or they realize just how senseless death can be. No matter what, they carry on. They fight to play the sport they love. They fight for one more Halo victory. And they fight for one more chance to light up the Halo.

Until next year, boys...