Vaughn Leads Way . . . to the Hospital

So there is Mo Vaughn, the Angels’ $80-million investment in leadership, in batting power, in clubhouse bravado, in proving to the world that Disney is not cheap, and on his very first play in the field as an Angel, in the very first inning, second batter up, big ol’ Mo hustles out to catch an Omar Vizquel pop foul, follows the ball into the Cleveland Indian dugout. Where Vaughn loses his footing, then his balance and then his legs out from under him and falls down the steps and with his left ankle twisted.

No, Mo did not make the catch.

Yes, Mo did get taken to the hospital for precautionary X-rays on his sprained left ankle a few innings later.

We say, welcome to Anaheim, Mo.

But for a moment, as every person at Edison Field took a deep gulp of the 52-degree air, you just knew that every person was wondering--would we even get to see Mo Vaughn bat once during the season in an Angel uniform?

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Three hours before the game and Vaughn was sitting all alone at his new locker in his new clubhouse, stroking his new uniform, fiddling with some new bats.

But then Vaughn was quick to say that, no, he did not feel as if he were the new kid in class. Vaughn did not need a map to help him find the field and he did not need an invitation to give a State of the Mo address either.

This is something that Mo had become used to doing in Boston, he said. One year, he’s not exactly sure which year, Mo said he looked around the Boston locker room and didn’t see Mike Greenwell and didn’t see Roger Clemens. “All of a sudden,” Vaughn said, “you look up one year and they’re all gone.” So Mo gathered his Red Sox teammates together after batting practice on Opening Day and spoke.

The speeches are never scripted, Mo said Tuesday before giving his first Angels opening day address. Mo prefers to speak from the heart, and, by the way, without coaches around either. This is for players only. Mo wants everybody to speak as loudly and emotionally as Mo speaks. Mo said, before Tuesday’s oration, that he planned to say something about how “I know we’ve got some injuries but there’s a job to be done.” He also wanted to talk about how 25 guys need to come together, about how proud he is to be an Angel and about what promise he thinks this Anaheim team has.

This is exactly why the Angels chose to pay Vaughn $80 million. Because he is not about to be the shy new student in the class. Because he will not take a seat way in the back, pull his cap down low over his forehead. Because he does not want to be invisible, or to merely fit in or to be one of the guys.

And so the players-only Mo meeting was called, it was held and the Angels burst onto the field full of energy and enthusiasm.

Of course, Vaughn was greeted loudly by the crowd when he was introduced. Though no louder than newly sound Tim Salmon or perennial pitcher Chuck Finley. Still, Vaughn was applauded. People stood. Some even tested out a new cheer. “Moooooo,” and that’s the long “O” sound and not the sound a cow makes. Doesn’t rhyme with boo, which is what is not supposed to happen to the Angels with Mo in the lineup.

Thus ended pregame festivities.

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Then the game started.

Then Mo fell down the stairs.

Then Mo limped back onto the field.

Then Mo flew out to left.

And did it again.

Then Mo didn’t come back onto the field when the sixth inning began.

If you’d like, you can start chanting here--There is no curse. There is no curse.

Mo did get to bat after all. He didn’t limp away until trying to swing the bat, which is awfully difficult on a cold, clammy night and when you can’t push off the ankle that you twisted severely while trying to prove right away that $80 million isn’t wasted, that the Angels weren’t wrong in assessing that Mo goes all-out, all the time.

And there was no way Mo was going to pull up short on his very first fielding attempt. Not after he had scheduled that pregame sermon. A leader plays hard, harder, hardest. A leader can’t put up a mental fence at the first step at the top of the dugout. A leader doesn’t see the steps, he sees the ball. A leader expects to make the spectacular catch. A leader isn’t worried about a wet spot or a slippery spot.

Except for this problem. When you’re a leader of the Angels, you end up in the hospital for X-rays.

Let’s see. Jim Edmonds, Gary DiSarcina, Jason Dixon, all start the season on the DL. Mo? Too soon to tell. Or is it? He is, after all, an Angel.

Also before the game started, a riderless horse was led out, in honor of the late Gene Autry, beloved Angel owner who died last October. Perhaps it is asking too much, and you just know that if he could, Autry would have what, nodded his head, blinked an eye, doffed his cowboy hat, something so that Vaughn would have not taken that fall.

Or at least been able to yell, “Watch out Mo, that first step is a doozy.”

Yet, despite the despair of seeing Mo go, the Angels came back from 5-3 down to win this frosty opener over the American League Central champion Cleveland Indians.

So whatever Mo said, way to go.

Diane Pucin can be reached at her e-mail address: diane.pucin@latimes.com