The Bell Curve -- Joseph N. Bell

There are two times during the year when I have to deal with almost

insufferable stress. The first time is in early October, when the World

Series goes head-to-head with both professional and college football. The

second is early spring, when I somehow have to juggle the NCAA basketball

tournament with the opening of the baseball season. That is probably the

most difficult of the two since it carries emotional overtones that go

back to my early childhood. This year, it also conflicted with our annual

neighborhood Easter party, which raised ethical and religious

considerations, both of which passed rather quickly.

The Angels opened their season on Easter Sunday, the only team in the

majors to do so. We were told that this was because it gave them exposure

on national television ahead of everyone else, which turned out to be a

mixed blessing. I had planned to sneak off from the party to get my first

look at the new and improved Angels on TV when two Easter miracles

happened.

I had resigned myself to seeing most of my baseball this season on the

tube. Our piece of a season ticket was lost in economic austerity. The

extended family season ticket connections followed suit. Any ticket clout

I once had as a result of writing warmly about the problems of the

Angels’ ticket manager some years ago in the Los Angeles Times were gone,

along with him.

Then, miraculously, rescue. From across the street and over the phone.

My lawyer neighbor, Ron Darling, invited me to join him at the Angels’

last exhibition game against the Colorado Rockies on Friday. And my

brother-in-law, Dan Angel, called in some favors to the Angel front

office, got tickets for the opener on Sunday, and invited my wife and me

to join his party.

The table was set on Thursday when Indiana quite remarkably won its

way to the NCAA finals. Then on Friday, the Angels lived up to all their

rosy predictions by beating up on Colorado. I went home that night full

of hope that the new Angels were loaded to deliver our first World Series

in history.

Then came Sunday and Monday. It would have been more exciting to stay

home and watch small people hunt eggs in our backyard than it was at

Anaheim Stadium. The Angels collapsed like a deflated balloon, losing 6-0

to the Cleveland Indians and looking very bad in the process. Cleveland

scored four runs before the Angels ever came to bat in this new season,

and I could actually feel the air go out of a capacity crowd once

inflated with hope. Then the following night, Indiana was creamed by

Maryland in the NCAA final.

The only thing positive I can draw from such a weekend is a tax

deduction for the food I bought at both Angels games. My brother-in-law

is about to make it very big as a TV and motion picture writer and

producer. When he does, he plans to buy the Angels and install me as

their general manager. Thus, I consider any money I spend at games to be

a business deduction.

Beyond that point, I’m searching for meaning. Since baseball has long

been embraced by Great Thinkers as a microcosm of life, itself, I feel

the need to look for the philosophical ground to be discovered here. Not

religious, since I consider the spiritual qualities of a ballpark as

powerful as any church I know. Not patriotic, since baseball has long

been canonized as the American game, and we were quite certain in my war

that’s what we were fighting for. Not ethical, since nowhere can be found

a greater mix of Americans united in a single cause than at the ballpark.

So what then?

I’ve decided that Robert Burns pointed it out when he wrote “the best

laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft agley.” We set ourselves up for

disappointment if the Angels lost. Now we have to accept the realities

and move on. That’s when the cliches kick in. You win some, and you lose

some. It’s a long season. Don’t be seduced by unreasonable expectations.

Life lessons all. Unless, of course, the Angels blow this season

altogether, in which case the cliches no longer work. I’ll deal with that

when and if it happens.

Meanwhile, I find it both amusing and relevant that the Angels opened

the season against the Indians since that provides me a transition to a

local event that simply can’t go unrecognized here. I’m talking about the

new player in the El Toro airport game: the Juaneno Band of Mission

Indians.

According to news reports last week, this tribe has sized up the

airport property as an ideal site for a gaming casino. And this is no

idle speculation since if El Toro can be established as part of its

original territory, the Mission Indians might file a successful claim and

decide they want an airport to provide customers for their casino. At the

very least, they should provide an interesting addition to the Great

Park.

Contemplating these prospects almost takes the edge off a losing

weekend. But not quite. I’m not going to sell out a World Series that

easily.

* JOSEPH N. BELL is a resident of Santa Ana Heights. His column

appears Thursdays.