Angels Fans and Taxpayers, Get Ready for Heartbreak

A couple guys were waiting at a bus stop in Orange County, when one of them muttered to the other:

“What do they take us for, a bunch of saps?”

“No kidding. I can’t stand to be yanked around like this.”

“Can you believe the bill of goods they’re selling? They must think we’re all fools. Or infants.”

“In the words of P.T. Barnum, there’s a sucker born every minute.”

“I thought that was Thomas Jefferson.”

“No, Jefferson said all men are created equal. But don’t get me off-track.”

“Sorry, it’s just that it’s insulting to our intelligence--all this talk about a Great Park.”

“Come on, now, Edison Field is a good ballpark, but not a great one. If you’re talking Fenway Park ... now that’s a great park.”

“What’s the matter with you? I’m talking about the old El Toro Marine base being turned into a giant park, like Central Park in New York. The city of Irvine says it’s going to do it. Don’t you read the papers?”

“Just the sports section. I hadn’t heard anything about a Great Park. I thought you were talking about the Angels. People with short memories are saying they have a good enough team to go to the World Series.”

“Why? Did the Yankees go on strike?”

“No, but the Angels are pretty decent. They have the fourth-best record in baseball. Surely you’ve heard about their good-luck charm, the Rally Monkey.”

“Uh, sorry. News to me. But it sounds like you have plenty to be excited about.”

“Tell me about excited. I was here in 1995 when they were something like 10 games in front, and that was late August. They went into the tank faster than Flipper at feeding time. I didn’t come out of that funk for months. I’m not buying it again.”

“Hey, pal, wake up. People love to sell you the dream. It’s called bait-and-switch. Oldest trick in the book. Take this Great Park thing.”

“Sounds like a good idea. What’s wrong with a park?”

“Nothing, but this would be the Taj Mahal of parks. They ran it up the flagpole as a way to kill off a new airport, and it worked. Now, people are going to find out it’ll never happen.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s the way things work around here. We talk big, but nothing happens.”

“Hey, you’re talking to an Angels fan. Don’t get me started on hopes and dreams. I remember Kent Bottenfield and Mo Vaughn. Besides, I was there in ’86 when we were one out away from the World Series.”

“Does the past always foretell the future?”

“Do I look like Nostradamus? But, yes, certain things are predictable, like the Angels breaking your heart. It’s a law of nature.”

“Exactly. Like people eventually deciding that houses and stores would look better at El Toro than grass and duck ponds and museums?”

“I don’t know from duck ponds, but maybe you ought to think positive. They could pull it off.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Negative. This park is going to take a commitment for years, not only of people but of money. Do you have any idea how much it’ll cost to clean up the toxic chemicals buried out there?”

“As much as three or four free agents, huh?”

“More like 30 or 40.”

“So, you feel you’ve been had?”

“Nope. I knew it was a trick. They lured us in to kill off the airport, and now they’re playing us for rubes.”

“I hear you, brother. The Angels are pulling the same stunt. I guess you can fool the people all of the time. But you shouldn’t give up on the park. I’ll even give you an idea for a way to sell it.”

“OK, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“Did I mention the Rally Monkey?”

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by writing to him at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com.