It Hurts When the Baseball Gods Strike

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve sent Arte Moreno conflicting signals in the last year about this new $180-million toy of his, the Anaheim Angels. Some would attribute that to a complete lack of baseball acumen, but let’s not dignify that with a retort.

Like an umpire, I call ‘em as I see ‘em. And what I saw coming out of spring training was an Angels team that was loaded. Runs, runs, runs; that’s how it looked. Lots of people thought our Halos would be good, so I felt the urge to go them one better. On April 7, in the very space you’re reading now, the prediction was made that the Angels would spend every day of the season in first place.

Baseball fans knew the odds against that were overwhelming. Alas, the prediction didn’t survive the first weekend of the season, and I ate some crow. Big deal -- the Angels quickly kicked it into gear and by May 17 had the best record in baseball at 25-13. I had little doubt they’d stay atop the heap.

Vindication was mine.

That should have been the tipoff.

Riding high, I should have known what was coming: the inevitable dosage of baseball pain.

And so it came -- in waves.

If only before spouting off this April, I’d taken time to reflect on a column from a year earlier, in May 2003, not long after Moreno bought the team and was full of new-owner exuberance.

That was the first time I addressed him, feeling compelled to give him the real truth: Baseball will break your heart. I wasn’t sure any of the yes-men around him would be as blunt.

“Pain and suffering await Mr. Moreno,” I wrote, hurting as I typed in each word. “As surely as Gehrig followed Ruth in the Yankee batting order, Moreno’s zest for life will be challenged as never before.”

And now it has come to pass.

Imagine the euphoria Moreno must have felt after the Angels’ hot start this year. He probably thought this ownership business was a cinch.

Sensing that, the baseball gods conspired to lay his team low, and in a perversely obvious way.

Every team deals with injuries, but few took the blows as did the Angels. It wasn’t merely the number of injuries; it was who was hit and how badly. Troy Glaus, leading the league in homers after the first six weeks, went down in May and likely won’t come back. Garret Anderson, the solid rock in the outfield, was diagnosed with undifferentiated arthritis and missed seven weeks. Whoever heard of a ballplayer with arthritis? Darin Erstad hurt his hamstring and missed 5 1/2 weeks. That trio represented the 2-4-5 hitters in the lineup. A key pitcher had nose bleeds that wouldn’t stop. Throw in injuries to other key players like David Eckstein and Troy Percival, and the damage was complete.

The momentum of mid-May ground to a halt, exactly as the gods had planned. Since that 25-13 start, the Angels have gone 14-18. The season is not lost, but the chance to be a special team is gone.

Moreno, who made his fortune in the billboard business, may not have realized that to love a baseball team is to suffer.

Naturally, I blame myself. I knew how the baseball gods acted when anyone became too happy.

As a lifelong Pittsburgh Pirates fan, I know the extent to which human despair is linked to baseball games.

That’s why I wrote the first column -- to warn Moreno. Why I allowed myself to get sucked in and write the second one is a mystery.

In my first two offerings to Moreno, then, I’ve veered wildly from pessimism to giddiness.

It’s time for some sober advice to a good-guy owner. Luckily, I’ve finally got my head on straight.

I’ve thought this through.

Mr. Moreno, sell the team.

Immediately. Save yourself any more grief.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. He can be reached at (714) 966-7821 or at dana.

parsons@latimes.com. An archive of his recent columns is at www.latimes.com/parsons.