Using power of positive thinking on the Angels

I tried something out Monday night at Angel Stadium -- I was really nice to people, and the athletes too.

I began with Gary Matthews, telling him how excited I was to talk to him. But right away I got the impression he was suffering from laryngitis, and I don’t know, maybe it’s just an HGH side effect.

A few minutes later, though, a young woman approached him and there was no shutting the guy up. It was a miracle, a visit from the Blessed Virgin, or else he was taking drugs for his condition and they had just kicked in. Either way, I was just thrilled for the guy’s recovery.

I’m like that, but every so often I get folks telling me they think I’m too negative. Of course I’m usually standing in the Dodgers’ clubhouse, or reading e-mail after trying to coax the best out of the Kobester.

There’s no question, though, I’d like to be more like Fred Roggin, the TV guy who does radio with the daughter and me each morning, and who thinks everybody is just swell.

“Nice job,” Fred will say, and someone won’t have done a good job, but the bum who has done a horrible job goes away thinking they did a good job, and isn’t that nice.

Fred will tell a guest, who has just been a cantankerous drip, “Wow, this was really good to get together with you,” and I’m sure Kareem Abdul-Jabbar probably went away thinking he was ready for Letterman next.

Take this whole rat business at Angel Stadium -- Fred would point out that Disneyland is built on the premise that there is always a mouse in the house, and Chuck E. Cheese was originally introduced as a rat who likes munching on pizza while sitting in the corner. So what’s the big fuss?

It’s also going to be the year of the rat in 2008 according to the Chinese calendar, so, as I’m sure Fred would tell you, we’re just getting a look at the advance team.

“Rats are ambitious, sincere,” and according to Fred and a website on the subject, “they get along with monkeys” which is very important in Angel Stadium.

Now it’s true Fred doesn’t go to a lot of sporting events, so he doesn’t talk to too many athletes, which might account for his cheery disposition. But no question it works for him. He’s been on TV so long, he was actually working as a broadcaster when the Dodgers were last in the World Series.

So I thought I might give it a try and make like Fred for a day, and tell everyone around here how good they’re doing -- while just hoping I didn’t cross paths with Scot Shields.

“I’ve got you guys winning the division now,” I told Manager Mike Scioscia, who looked up probably expecting to see Rex Hudler. “You’ve got eight more home games than Seattle, and as good as the guys do here at home, it’s over.”

Surprisingly, Scioscia disagreed with my positive assessment of the Angels, leaving me to wonder just what I could say to make the guy happy.

“It’s going to be a dogfight until the end,” Scioscia snapped, and knowing the events of the day, I could have offered a wisecrack, but instead thought to myself, what would Fred have said?

“Well said, skipper,” I think I finally muttered.

I stopped by Garret Anderson’s locker, told him how smart I thought he was for posting only one extra-base hit in his last 53 at-bats -- no doubt saving himself for the playoffs, and he said, “I just [stink] right now.”

There was a time, I told him, when I might’ve put that quote in a story, but I was determined on this night to look at the empty glass as if it were half full.

That’s why I even went out of my way to talk to Mark Gubicza. I don’t imagine too many people do that, although I’m sure the Angels’ broadcaster has got some wonderful stories to tell about his days in Kansas City while trying to establish himself as a .500 career pitcher.

As Gooby and I chatted on the field, someone made a wild throw, and Gooby tried to stop the ball with his foot. He botched the foot save, but trying to make him feel good, I told him he looked like a goalie out there.

“Yeah, like a Kings goalie,” Gooby said, and surrounded as I am by so many cheap-shot artists, it’s no wonder some of this stuff creeps onto Page 2.

“American history is filled with inaccuracies,” chimed in FSN’s Michael Eaves, and I have no idea what that has to do with anything, but he was with Gooby, so he was probably just talking to himself.

In my continuing and frustrating effort to be positive for a day, I sought out Tim Mead, the Angels’ PR guy, knowing he’s trained to say only positive things. I noticed Mead had brought a family onto the field for warmups, a mom, dad and a kid wearing No. 13 with “Rodriguez” spelled across his back.

Mead called on Scioscia to say hello to Rodriguez. I thought it was so nice of the Angels’ PR guy to make sure Rodriguez felt right at home in Angel Stadium.

Yes, life is good here for everyone, our Angels beating the mighty, red-hot Yankees through five innings, thanks to Moseley and Mathis.

Rodriguez drilled a two-run homer later, but on a positive note it was really good for Angels fans to see -- giving them a preview of what their third baseman will be doing next year.

Our Guys then rallied to take a two-run lead, giving Justin Speier his first chance to fill Shields’ shoes -- Speier doing just as well as Shields, allowing the Yankees to only tie the game with two runs in the eighth. “Nice job,” as Fred would say.

That made it 6-6 in the ninth and into the 10th, a swell way to spend an evening, and no reason to end it on a negative note.

And so it didn’t, my new Budde coming through.

TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from Ginna Mar:

“Anxiously awaiting the birth of Salma Hayek’s first child. Forget DNA testing, if it’s born with its foot in its mouth then it is yours.”

Dream on . . . I know I have.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.