To Request, Anderson Says He’ll Sleep On It

The Angels get a free luxury bus ride to the airport, someone taking care of their luggage, as many seats as they’d like on a private plane, whatever they want to eat, and everyone is concerned about how tired they must be.

Tell me about it. I get home after midnight, the alarm goes off, the wife rolls over to tell me to let the dogs out, sign the checks so she has money to go shopping, and don’t forget to put the garbage out. I thank her for making the effort to roll over.

It’s 5 on the morning after another middle-of-the-night marathon flight from JFK in New York, security lines to get through, a seat waiting between a pair of Weight Watchers who were hoping the middle seat would be free to allow them to spread out, and all I have going for me is the slim chance that Plaschke will stay awake long enough in first class to send back a cup of coffee.

I’m doing everything I can to get to Chicago just so I can put in an interview request to irritate Garret Anderson and give the Angels a chance to win.

It takes incredible teamwork. The pilot, the cab driver, the hotel’s front desk staff and the subway to get to the ballpark on time to put in a wake-up call for the Sleepwalker. I find Tim Mead, the Angels’ public relations honcho, and ask him to tell Anderson that I would like to talk to him.

He does, and comes back to say Anderson remains very respectful, but in so many words I can go take a flying leap off the John Hancock Center because he has no interest in discussing his enthusiastic rebirth.

I see Anderson in the dugout, and tell him this is “our moment together, big guy,” and he turns, looks at me and grunts. It’s the first sound I’ve heard from him in a week, and I have to tell you, it just takes something like that to make it all worth it.

He then goes to the plate for the first time in Game 1 and hits a home run. The Angels, the poor, tired baseball players, who will have the next three months off, need a spark, and Anderson has given it to them -- with a little boost. Later, of course, he’ll take all the credit.

The Angels win by one run, and I go to the clubhouse to talk to the players. They sit in the middle of the room eating. I have a deadline and a column to write, and they want to be left alone until they get done eating. We’re supposed to watch while they chew. I don’t know how I do it, but I restrain myself from trying to get quotes out of Josh Paul.

I turn around and notice Anderson is spilling his guts to KCBS’ Jim Hill. Once Hill is finished, so is Anderson. I had no idea he was that quick, but that’s because all I’ve seen him do is play baseball.

Eventually, he returns to his locker. He takes his time dressing, his back to the media, checks his cellphone, puts on his ring, and checks his cell again. This is the glamour side of the business, the chance to see expensive rings and cellphones while waiting for the millionaires to speak. I can wait no longer and start asking questions. I get nothing more than cliches. It’s lunch with Size 0 all over again.

“We just came out and played ball the way we do,” he said.

“Fortunately, we scored one more run than they did,” he said.

How about showing a little life, a little excitement, I suggest.

“That’s my personality,” he said in describing a dead man.

How about just a hint of personality? I counter.

“If we win it all, I’ll show it,” he said, and I make him promise me, even swear right then and there that if the Angels win it all, he’ll show me he has a personality.

“We have an appointment,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said.

*

BEFORE TUESDAY night’s game there was some guy carrying on beneath the press box, dressed in a White Sox cap, oversized Sox jersey, beer in hand, waving and screaming, “Go Sox.”

The big, silly goof couldn’t understand why he wasn’t getting a wave in return, like I was going to admit publicly it was my brother-in-law.

*

COMMISSIONER BUD SELIG took a stroll down press row talking to reporters before getting a tap on the shoulder from one of the security guards in the press box who wanted to know if he had (proper) credentials to be there. (Fill in your own punch line.)

*

THERE HAS been some talk that the Angels and the Dodgers might be interested in free-agent Chicago first baseman Paul Konerko. He came up in the eighth, two out, two on, the Sox trailing by a run, and hit a shallow fly ball to center. Hard to believe the Dodgers ever let him go; he’s perfect for them.

*

JARROD WASHBURN, tonight’s starter for the Angels, said, “I felt like I let down the team in the last series and can’t wait to get out there and help them out.”

Washburn had strep throat, and so I asked if he was still contagious.

“Why? You want a kiss?” he said, and I guess he’s still a little delirious from that fever.

*

BEST OF luck to the Micro Manager. Nice to know I’ll have a place to stay if I ever go on vacation to Pittsburgh.

*

TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from Ray Uhler:

“Pope Benedict was elected at the beginning of the baseball season. Throughout most of the season the Cardinals, Angels and Padres led their divisions. Now that the playoffs are in progress, I predict the Angels and Cardinals will play in the World Series. And since Angels outrank Cardinals, the Angels will win.”

Now we know why those devils, the Dodgers, never had a chance.

*

T.J. Simers can be reached at

t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.