Titans Stand Tallest Amid Angels, Rams

Try to look at it this way:

Before 1995, research has shown, no American city or community had ever watched its professional football team pull out of town and its professional baseball team blow an 11-game first-place lead during the same calendar year.

(Exact numbers not yet in on cities or communities that, in the same calendar year, also had their annual college bowl game fold after an 11-year go.)

Anaheim, you’re one of a kind.

Orange County, you’re unprecedented.

Happy new year.

The old one disappears in a few more hours, dragging its tiresome theme down and out until the agonizing end, leaving us in quiet solitude to contemplate for a final time . . . what, precisely?

The year in sports?

Or the largest liquidation sale on record?

Everything didn’t have to go in 1995--the tentacles of the county’s bankruptcy mess didn’t extend that far--but much of what mattered most in or around Anaheim Stadium did just that.

The Los Angeles Rams, a Southland tradition since 1946, its Orange County office open for business since 1980--gone, boarded up and shipped to St. Louis.

The Angels’ 11-game game lead in the American League West on the morning of Aug. 9 and the expectancy of the team’s first postseason appearance in nine years--gone, melted down and handed to Seattle.

The Big Orange Classic, which survived 11 touch-and-go years as the Freedom Bowl and was rattling its tin cup in a desperate attempt to bankroll a 12th--gone, packed away and shoved deep into storage.

Even the county’s most sacred institution--the Mighty Duck sellout, always 17,174 zealots strong--was not immune. By December, with the hockey team skating in circles and the front office constructing paper castles with all the $100 bills it refused to spend, season ticket-holders stopped showing up at the drop of a puck. In French-speaking Canada, the condition is known as L’Honeymoon finis.

Three years into this Disney sports enterprise, the people want the playoffs, not some wacky fire hazard of a mascot, and have begun voicing their dissatisfaction by staying at home--the no-shows now are not checking in at a rate of 2,000 to 3,000 per home game.

Unfortunately, the vanishing act did not reach the basketball court. In the Big West, Cal State Fullerton remained a bottom feeder and UC Irvine a lousy bargain--the talent promises so much, the results pan out to so little. Quasi-professionally, the Clippers dipped into The Pond for their handful of Orange County defeats, but Donald Sterling persists in chaining his franchise inside a Los Angeles dungeon while allowing himself to pet the golden goose of Anaheim only once a month.

At year’s end, Orange County takes stock and finds itself with:

* No NFL team for the first December since 1979.

* No American League pennant, a continuing tale of woe that began in 1966.

* No bowl game, pre- or postseason, for the first time since 1983.

* No full-time NBA tenant, only an occasional squatter with bad habits.

* No “big name” hockey players beyond Paul Kariya, although, in fairness, Mikhail Shtalenkov and Oleg Tverdovsky do have long names.

* No college basketball team worthy of an NCAA tournament bid, extending an idleness-of-March streak that dates to 1978.

* No indoor soccer championship. No outdoor soccer championship. Not even a roller hockey championship. And that’s something we used to be good in.

(Editor’s note: We interrupt this stock-taking out of concern for the public health. This being the post-Christmas depression season, we don’t want to hear of any franchise or team jumping out a window or, worse yet, jumping to St. Louis.)

Now, for the plus side of the docket:

* Cal State Fullerton’s baseball team and Tiger Woods, Old Reliables I and II, who book-ended the summer with College World Series championship III and U.S. Amateur golf title II.

* The Yorba Hills Little League All-Stars, who came out of nowhere (you find “Yorba Hills’ some place on the map) to reach the U.S. final of the Little League World Series.

* Mater Dei High School’s basketball team, which won its third state championship, this time relying heavily on walk-ons.

* El Toro High School’s football team, which lasted longer in the playoffs than Division I powers Los Alamitos and Mater Dei, and beat Servite for the Division V title, enabling Mike Milner to become the third Orange County coach to win championships at two schools.

* The baseball teams of Fountain Valley and La Quinta high schools, which on the same day became the first Orange County teams to win back-to-back Southern Section baseball championships.

* Community college teams won eight State titles, including Rancho Santiago’s baseball team, which dedicated the season to Ryan Lemmon, who had died in car accident before the season started.

No Happy Ending

Orange County sports story of the year?

You must be kidding.

How do you choose between the departure of Southern California’s first major-league franchise--five decades of professional football, much of it quite good, flushed down the drain all the way to Missouri--and the biggest baseball collapse of the 20th century, according to the Elias Sports Bureau?

One method: You flip a coin.

(And don’t grab it out of the air and run the way Georgia did.)

Another: You consider the Element of Surprise Factor. Which event was the most unexpected, the least predictable?

Initially, this would seem to favor the Angels, since 1995 began with the Rams idling on the interstate on-ramp, awaiting the official waving of the checkered flag by the NFL owners. Georgia Frontiere signed her letter of intent to move in January, the owners rejected it in March, Georgia agreed to pay the owners more money, the owners liked this idea very much and gave their approval a month later. By mid-June, the vans were packed and headed for St. Louis, just as everyone--except for maybe Leigh Steinberg--expected all along.

But how surprising was the Angels’ fadeaway, taking into account this franchise’s star-crossed history? The squandered pennants of ’82 and ‘86, the swoon of ’89 and ‘91--there were warning signs on the rear view mirror, even if the starting outfield and three-fourths of the infield only knew of Dave Henderson by reading the Baseball Encyclopedia.

If anything could be considered a shock, it was the Angels’ behavior, from top to bottom, through the season’s first four months.

General manager Bill Bavasi took the kind of risks Mike Port wouldn’t dream of and delivered what Whitey Herzog only promised. Bavasi traded for a catalytic leadoff hitter, Tony Phillips; signed a legitimate late-inning closer, Lee Smith; and left longtime Angel observers positively speechless by bringing back, on the afternoon of July 27, Jim Abbott--a move of near-Biblical proportions, and analyzed as such.

This was the prodigal son returning home at last, the offspring atoning for the sins of the father (the scribes often referred to him as “Buzzie”), the angry mob in the desert finally appeased.

On July 31, the Angels led the American League West by 10 games--13 over third-place Seattle.

On Aug. 9, the lead was 11 games, the largest first-place lead ever enjoyed by an Angel ballclub.

On Aug. 16, the lead was still 10 1/2 games and four of the five major American League postseason awards had names of Angels engraved on them. MVP--Jim Edmonds. Rookie of the year--Garret Anderson. Manager of the year--Marcel Lachemann. Executive of the year--Bavasi.

In 35 days, barely one month, all of that had vanished. The trophies, the champagne, every inch of the supposedly insurmountable lead. Two horrific nine-game losing streaks brought the Angels back to the pack and on Sept. 20, Seattle caught them. According to the Elias Sports Bureau, 10 1/2 games in 35 days represented the single fastest meltdown in the major leagues this century.

Two days later, the Mariners passed the Angels.

After a 10-2 disaster in the Kingdome on Sept. 26--Shawn Boskie, thrown to Griffey, Buhner and the wolves--the Angels incredibly trailed the Mariners by three games with only five to play.

Chuck Finley stopped the bleeding on Sept. 27 with a 2-0 victory over Seattle, and then the Angels returned for their final homestand of 1995--four games against last-place Oakland. With shrill chants of “choke” and “gag” ringing in their ears, the Angels did what they had to do--sweep the A’s--and prayed for the Mariners to lose twice in Texas. That much the gods of October would grant them, and on the afternoon of Oct. 2, in the Kingdome, the Mariners and the Angels staged a one-game playoff for the AL West championship.

Again, it wasn’t as if no one saw this coming.

Cy Young-to-be Randy Johnson against jittery Mark Langston on an airport runway masquerading as the floor of the Kingdome.

A 1-0 game with two outs and the bases loaded in the bottom of the seventh inning.

Luis Sojo, light-hitting former Angel, digging in against the team that traded him to Toronto two years earlier for . . . yes . . . Kelly Gruber.

As for the rest, any TV viewer with even a passing knowledge of Angel lore could have immediately filled in all the blanks.

“Sojo swings, and . . . “

(Breaks his bat, of course.)

“It’s a bouncing ball to J.T. Snow . . . “

(The 1995 AL Gold Glove winner at first base, who can’t make the play.)

“The ball rolls down the right-field line into the Angel bullpen. Two runs are in. Tim Salmon finally fields the ball and fires a perfect strike to home plate . . . “

(Which is cut off, mysteriously, by Langston, halfway between first base and home.)

“Cora’s rounding third, heading for home. Langston turns and . . . “

(The six-time Gold Glove winner, soon to be seven, flings the ball past catcher Andy Allanson, all the way to the backstop. Cora scores and so does Sojo. On a virtual inside-the-park broken-bat grand slam.)

Langston’s immediate reaction said it all, for millions of Angel sufferers, after 35 seasons of utter torment. Langston collapsed at home plate, lay on his back in the dirt, clasped both hands across his chest and stared up into the Kingdome arches--the emblem of another once-hopeful Angel season, laid to rest.

Caveat emptor. At this late date, Angel fans have that product warning committed to memory, which is why home attendance hovered between 20,000 and 30,000 even during the pre-fade days of July and early August. Angel fans always fear the worst--it’s easier to prepare that way--and now a new owner, name of Disney, must find a way to lure the back.

Sorcerer’s potion, perhaps?

The Disney Factor

In May, Disney and the Autrys negotiated a transfer of ownership that involves Disney buying 25% of the Angels immediately, with the option to purchase the rest at a later date, and grants Disney day-to-day controlling interest in the franchise. It seemed a curious investment; post-strike, major league baseball’s popularity is scattered, at best, and Angels come attached to 35 years of broken promises. Then again, whatever Disney does with the team, short of blowing a 12-game lead in mid-August, will likely be seen as a stroke of managerial genius.

A no-lose proposition, from the perspective of Walt Disney Co.

And from the Angels’ perspective?

Much too much to lose--namely, two left-handed starting pitchers named Finley and Abbott. Both free agents who declined salary arbitration, Finley and Abbott have until Jan. 8 to re-sign with the Angels or cast their lots elsewhere. Meanwhile, the Angels’ sale isn’t expected to be approved until the major league owners’ next meeting--Jan. 16-18--and the Autrys are not likely to sign off on any player contracts that would push the 1996 payroll past $25 million. Current payroll is right around $24 million.

So another year begins with Orange County drumming its fingers anxiously, awaiting another collection of rich, petty, feet-dragging, agenda-angling nest-featherers to decide the fate of another sports franchise.

Disney’s first plunge into professional sports continues to be an education, even for a multibillion-dollar corporation that entered the deal assuming it already knew everything.

One Mighty Duck season in, the second was held up four months while NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman and Players Assn. director Bob Goodenow gritted their teeth at one another during a ludicrous everybody-loses labor stoppage. That gave Disney the rare opportunity to stage two home openers in the same year--one in January, once the truncated 94-95 season was allowed to proceed, and the usual one in October.

Both openers came off somewhat less successful than the premiere of “Toy Story.”

In January, fans at The Pond booed Disney CEO Michael Eisner midway through his welcome-back speech--a moment finally salvaged by Eisner when he assured the crowd, “The Mighty Ducks are here in Anaheim forever!” Take that, Georgia.

In October, the Ducks’ mascot nearly combusted during the pregame extravaganza, falling onto the wall of flames he was supposed to hurdle. Wild Wing--it’s an alias, for obvious reasons--walked away with only bumps and bruises, thanks to a fast-thinking technician who quickly shut off the propane jets and a flame-retardant duck suit.

As for that other stuff that happens on the ice--hockey--Disney continues to grapple with evidence that the Orange County sporting consumer may have a non-gullible bone or two in his or her body. When Disney jacked up ticket prices again in the spring--its third hike in three years--it promised the additional revenue would be used to improve the team. When Duck management then failed to improve the team during the off-season, and the Ducks spent the first three months of the ‘95-96 season floundering in the bottom half of the Western Conference, the boos returned to The Pond.

When that didn’t work, the fans stopped returning to The Pond. Of course, with so many strips of tickets already in corporate hands, most home games are announced as “sellouts.” But look around during a game. Several thousand cinnamon-brown chair backs are readily visible. Those are a lot of wallets and purses staying at home--and away from the Disney merchandise stands.

Best and Brightest

Greed only takes one so far. In the case of Frontiere and John Shaw, pioneers of the here-for-49 years, gone-to-cash-in movement currently sweeping the NFL, that got them as far as St. Louis. There, a new city embraced the same old Rams, who momentarily aroused the populace by starting 4-0, then lost eight of their last 10 to finish 7-9--the team’s sixth losing season of the ‘90s, a decade still unblemished by success.

Amateurs, once again, brought home the best and brightest news of 1995. Tiger Woods, 19, repeated as U.S. Amateur golf champion, joining Harvey Ward and Jay Sigel as the only successful defenders of the championship since World War II. Woods also participated in the Masters, finishing ahead of John Daly and Seve Ballesteros, and the British Open, where he struggled to make the cut and finished tied for 68th.

Cal State Fullerton repeated too--matching its College World Series successes of 1979 and 1984 with a third championship, and then some. The ’95 Titans swept their four games in Omaha, pounding the pitching staffs of Stanford, Tennessee (twice) and USC for 39 runs while giving up only 11.

The national televised final was an 11-5 rout of USC, which brought Series MVP Mark Kotsay instant acclaim and, later, the Golden Spikes Award, and made the Titans something of a cult phenomenon. Imagine: It’s hip to be a Titan.

By virtue of their victories over the rich kids at Stanford and USC, the Titans became underground heroes, at least for a few days in June. During the World Series, Fullerton baseball caps sailed off store shelves. By the end of the tournament, there was so much blue and orange around Rosenblatt Stadium they could have renamed the place Cal State Omaha.

Three months later, the victorious Titans also left Orange County.

To visit the President.

At the White House.

And then they came back.

Just because the Rams wouldn’t do it, and the Angels couldn’t do it, doesn’t mean the concept has been rendered totally obsolete.