Not Yet an Epidemic : Symptoms of Angel Fever Can Be Seen in County, but Fans Wary of Team’s Past Remain Skeptical

The assignment: Locate the fan frenzy, set the scene, bring it back to the people.

Two to three blocks shy of Anaheim Stadium, there is the first sign of Angel Fever. A business along Katella Avenue has dedicated a portion of its marquee to the local nine: “Go Angels Go--Hurrah.”

A $5 cover charge buys a seat in the front row, just in time to see Tim Salmon’s clout off Seattle Mariner pitcher Randy Johnson.

Some homer, too. Salmon is circling the bases on the muted TV overhead, but an announcer off stage is yelling, “Let’s hear it for Seattle,” and everyone is applauding for Seattle, the dancer on stage, who is no longer in uniform.

“Everyone loves a winner,” says Butch Jung, manager of Fritz That’s Too--A Gentlemen’s Club, and it’s understood he is not talking about Tim Salmon.

After 2 1/2 hours, the Angels have won again. No one seems to notice. “But we always have the game on,” says Jung, pointing to his customers. “They’re guys, aren’t they? Well then, they’re talking baseball sometimes, and the talk of baseball right now is the Angels.”

Lots of talk, but no action down the street. “It’s pretty depressing,” says Darren Loe, who is wearing an Anaheim Bullfrogs cap and collecting $3 for parking right next door to the $6 Anaheim Stadium lot at Katella and State College.

“The Angels are in the same position as Cleveland, Cleveland sells out every game, and no one is coming to the games here. We put 400 cars in here for July 4th and the fireworks, but we’re averaging about 50 cars a night. An Angel fan just seems to be a rare breed; it’s like everybody is waiting because they expect them to choke.”

Same story down Gene Autry Way. A gas company, which had been charging $3 to park just outside the stadium’s main gate, increased their price to $5 this week in anticipation of an outbreak of Angel Fever. Take away the three employee cars, and 10 minutes before the start of Jimmie Reese Night, there were 16 cars on site.

“Looks like we’ll be going back to $3 to park,” says Matt Cavanaugh, parking attendant. “It’s got to be the baseball strike. I love baseball, but not now.”

The return of Jim Abbott, however, offered promise, a reason to return to the old ballpark. “We’re figuring on a sellout,” says Loe.

Dream on. A crowd of 34,674 responded to Abbott’s return and the Angels rise to prominence. The Angels were 38-52 at this time a year ago, and after their first 44 home dates they were averaging 25,071 spectators a game. They are now the first-place Angels with 18 more victories than a year ago and for the same amount of games in Anaheim Stadium they are averaging 21,742--a 14% decline in business. And the Rams thought they had problems.

“Before the last home stand I seriously thought about quitting,” says Steve Embry, who is selling Angel souvenirs outside Gate 1. “I was selling maybe $200 of goods a game last year, and I’m getting married in a year. But you can see it’s starting to pick up, and now I’m doing about $550 in business. I’m definitely interested in staying for the playoffs.”

The Angels would appear to possess just what baseball needs: a young, exciting underdog that scores runs and wins. Fertile ground for Disney, but for now, plenty of empty seats for Mickey and his pals.

“These kids are unbelievable,” says Bobbie Hall, a season ticket holder for the last decade who has missed only one game the last two years. “That’s why these people . . . if they would just get behind them.”

Hall arrives before 5:30 for a 7:30 start, waits in line for the parking lot gates to open, and then, she says, “I stay until the very last pitch. I’m a fan, it just makes me mad; stand behind our team. Come on, everybody start yelling for them.”

Only the Indians have won more games than the Angels this season, strikeout artist Randy Johnson is pitching and there are almost 40,000 empty seats in the stadium. Nolan Ryan is here the next night to honor Jimmie Reese, and there’s plenty of parking for all. Abbott’s back, but the fans aren’t.

The baseball strike has obviously taken its toll everywhere, and an Angel history of last-moment disappointment inspires added caution.

“Gene, have you got that playoff fever yet?” asks Edward Manning after greeting Angel owner Gene Autry before Wednesday’s game.

“Not yet,” Autry says, and knowing Angel fans nod in agreement.

Brian Burnett, a youngster of 8 when Dave Henderson’s ninth-inning home run dashed the Angels’ World Series plans in 1986, is all grown up now. “But I cried when they lost that game,” he says. “I’m a little surprised so many people have held a grudge because of the strike, but just think how many people will be here when they make the playoffs.”

Guess. “Bet you they don’t sell out the first playoff game here,” says Joe Donohue, a local ticket broker. “I’m telling you, it won’t happen.”

But during the last home stand, fans began to arrive for the Cleveland series in large numbers, and local businesses are planning on big turnouts this month when the Yankees, Red Sox and Orioles appear.

“We have season tickets and we do an Angel drawing every lunch hour,” says Don Myers, proprietor of The Catch, a restaurant across the street from the stadium. “Last year, we would pull somebody’s name out, and it was like, ‘Oh, I can’t really go tonight.’ But now they’re excited when I pull their name out; they’re clamoring for the tickets.

“Earlier this year, we’d have about 10 tables with people going to the Angels game, but for the last series with Cleveland, we sold out all 53 tables. It was like a home Duck game. It was a great crowd; they were spending money. It wasn’t just your hot dog and peanuts and beer crowd. They were making a night of it.”

The playoffs, the World Series, and who needs the Rams? “The Rams hurt us for the last six years, long before going belly up to St. Louis,” says Myers, who is wearing a baseball tie featuring a Norman Rockwell painting. “We lose only eight business days with the Rams and now I can sleep in on Sundays as opposed to coming in and worrying about the drunks.

“The thing is, we’re just licking our chops at the thought of the playoffs because we know what that does for business when we have a successful team. I have fun making money, and that’s what this is going to give us an opportunity to do.”

Business is also on the increase at other nearby eateries, although there are still no traffic jams outside. “The Angels have always done real well before the All-Star break, and then go downhill,” says Robert Sylvia, general manager of the National Sports Grill. “But it looks like they’ve turned it around this year, which should bring the people out. We’re not there yet, but I think they’ll be coming.”

There has been a rush to buy season tickets for those wanting to qualify for World Series consideration--close to 1,000 new requests through Thursday--but just what do ticket sales look like in the dog days ahead? The telephone rings and rings and rings in attempting to contact the Angels for ticket info.

“Can you please hold,” the receptionist asks, and she’s gone before hearing a response, replaced by a scratchy Whitney Houston recording. Five minutes later, she’s back, transferring the call to the ticket manager, and the telephone rings and rings and rings for two more minutes, and it’s the receptionist again. “Can you please hold,” she says, and she’s gone for three more minutes. “I know they are there in the ticket office, but they don’t seem to want to answer,” she says. “Let’s try this,” she says, and the connection goes dead.

One more try, but now the telephone is busy. What happens when the fans really want to start buying tickets? Call 937-7200 for an answer, and good luck.

Want to buy tickets and pick them up at Will Call? Pack a lunch. Lines at the A to L window were 25 deep, and service at the M to Z window was no better. Apparently the Angels aren’t used to winning.

“I keep calling the ticket office to find out about playoff tickets, and they keep saying wait a little longer,” says Luis Sandoval, who has brought his family to the game. “I won’t run on the field or climb the foul poles, but I’ll do whatever else it takes to be here for the World Series.”

Symptoms of real Angel Fever. “My dad taught me to be an Angels fan, and I was embarrassed as a kid, but I never gave up,” says Michael O’Neal, who has taken three buses to make the trip from Pomona to Anaheim Stadium. “A true Angel fan keeps watching, keeps hoping, blocks out the previous season and keeps going on.”

Three-year-old Dylan Ybarra from Tustin Ranch, who was about to witness his first Angel game, will probably never have to reflect on what might have been in 1979, 1982 and then again in 1986.

“When I was younger my father took me to all the Angel games,” says Alfredo Ybarra, the youngster’s father, “and I became a die-hard Dodger Blue fan. The Dodgers were playing in the World Series, and the Angels never made it. Now I’m going to take my son to both the Angel and Dodger games and let him pick his favorite.”

There’s even a chance now Dylan Ybarra might grow up thinking the Angels are better than the Dodgers. “People thought I was crazy, but I bet with a guy at work and I get $1 for every Angel win the Dodgers don’t get,” says Rodney White, “and I’m looking pretty good right now.”

That’s what you would expect from the die-hards--bets from the heart. The die-hards are going to be there to see Dave Frost get battered and Butch Hobson go down on strikes. Ten games back by the All-Star break, and they think a two-game winning streak is going to put them back in the race.

Angel Fever, however, should extend beyond. The bandwagon should be rolling. But two nights in a row, standing outside Anaheim Stadium to witness the charged Angel environment, and it looks like a crowd gathering for a seminar on Family Trusts. There are more Esperanza Aztecs baseball caps in sight than Angel headgear. Someone has Darryl Strawberry’s jersey on, and there’s a Chris Webber jersey, but no indication that Garret Anderson, J.T. Snow or Jim Edmonds have impressed. Stand outside Wrigley Field or Yankee Stadium, and you can tell by the garb where you are.

“They don’t get enough support; it must be a California thing,” says Elgin Chalayan, an Angel season ticket holder who stands out because both he and his wife are wearing Angel T-shirts. “Last year and the year before, I’d come out here, and I used to hate it. I’d sit in the stands, and I would have thought I was in Detroit or Chicago the way people were cheering for the other team.”

Richard and Ethel Burnette have sat through it all as season ticket holders for the last 25 years, and they have paid the $2 premium to sit on the field level, making it a $13 ticket to watch the Angels. Now their patience and commitment are about to be rewarded.

“The Angels have their fans; there are a lot of us on Aisle 12 who have been here for a long time,” Richard Burnette says. “My sister-in-law had tickets here since they opened up. But she just died.”

Just died. She sat there dedicated through all those games, all those missed opportunities, and now she’s gone while her team is poised to play in a World Series. Isn’t that what you would expect to have happen to a real Angel fan?

“Yeah,” says Richard Burnette, “but she will probably get better seats than we will for the World Series.”