What’s Kent’s opinion of their performance?

He hit the third pitch he saw for a home run.

Then Jeff Kent stopped looking, seeing only four pitches the rest of the game, making three quick outs that wasted three impatient runners.

What happened in the Angel Stadium visiting clubhouse after his Dodgers’ desultory 6-2 loss to the Angels should have then been no surprise.

I asked Kent about his hitting approach.

He came out swinging.

“If I could give you a good answer we could probably solve the problem and wouldn’t be talking about it,” he said.

And then he gave an angry and painful and delightfully honest answer.

He gave it in front of his locker, still wearing a weathered blue T-shirt and shorts nearly 20 minutes after the game, dirt still flaking off his elbows and sweat flying off his hair.

He gave it with wide eyes and a tight wince and a head that shook in both humor and disgust.

He gave it for several long minutes, long enough for teammates to slip out the clubhouse undisturbed, long enough to make you realize that, despite his distaste for being a leader, he was being a leader.

“We can sit back home and we can sit behind our desk and our computers and we can write out a ... scenario about the game, and more than likely you’d be wrong because you’re wrong and I’m wrong and nobody’s right,” Kent said. “You just play the game and that’s what’s hard about this game because you play it.

“This game is a game of anticipation. The catcher sets up away, the pitcher throws it inside. You’re looking for a fastball, you get a curveball. You take a full swing, you break a bat, you get a single. You take a full swing, you hit a home run. You never know what’s going to happen in this game.”

He paused to catch his breath.

“This game is such a pain in the butt, I can’t wait to retire.”

And he was only getting started.

Kent was speaking for a team whose impatient veteran offense -- which leads the league in stranding runners -- had once again allowed occasionally shaky Angels pitchers to escape.

The worst example occurred in the eighth inning, after Juan Pierre led off with a double against reliever Scot Shields. The heart of the Dodgers order went down on only five pitches, including two to Kent, who grounded out.

Kent was asked whether he should change his approach late in the game. His answer included a reference to the bloop two-run double by Robb Quinlan in the sixth inning that essentially finished the Dodgers.

“I’m facing Shields, he throws me a fastball right down the middle for strike one, second pitch right down the middle for strike two and I’m wanting to take the first two pitches, so if I’m taking the first two pitches, I’m sitting 0-2 and I’m [in trouble]” Kent said. “So you throw your philosophy right out the ... window. You don’t know. I mean, look what they did. A little one-out check-swing ... for two runs. Should that be our approach? You ask that kid. I don’t know if he even knew what approach he had. That’s what’s weird.”

He paused again.

“Guys, I’ve played on some great teams in my 15-plus-year career and I’ve played a lot of good baseball and I still can’t figure this game out,” he said. “To say you’re wrong is not right. And to say I’m right is not right either because I don’t know.”

Wait. There was more. He was asked about repeating the strategy of his second-inning homer in his ensuing at-bats.

“So you think, OK, now I hit a home run, he’s not going to throw me a strike first pitch,” he said. “Well, here comes a fastball right down the middle. What ... is he thinking? Fifteen years later it still happens like this. You hope to get into a rhythm where you can minimize your mistakes. Even so, if that were the case and we were able to control it that well, we wouldn’t play 162 games. Why not just play 30? You can’t figure this game out.”

He wasn’t done yet. He looked around at the half-dozen writers, looked down at his hands, shook his head.

“Well, I’ve tried to answer your stupid questions with stupid answers and just strap it on tomorrow and play,” he said. “That’s the best we can do. It’s frustrating. I’m mad.... You’ve got to be patient with it and sometimes roll with the punches. The punches are sometimes going to hit you in the gut and they’re going to hit you in the face and they’re going to hit you in the ... “

He paused one last time.

“You have to take it,” Jeff Kent said.

And take it we should, as a reminder that even the road to Cooperstown is filled with bumpy curves. As Kent travels the final miles of that journey, it is clear he is doing so with his foot flat on the pedal.

He is not going away quietly. He is not going away, period. The punches keep hitting him. On Saturday night, he took one for the team.

*

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.