Nolan Ryan is the man of his Angels dreams

A dream I had at 14 — that my hapless Angels officially conquered Los Angeles with owner Nolan Ryan throwing out a ceremonial first pitch during the team’s 50-year anniversary celebration — was supposed to come true Tuesday night.

As Dick Enberg used to say on KTLA, “Touch ‘em all.”

Well, not quite.

This is an Angels story, remember?

Ryan was hospitalized Monday because of chest pains. He’s going to be OK, but not OK soon enough to get to Tuesday’s ceremony.

Dream deferred. The original one, anyway, had only one-hopped the wall.

Here’s the script, as originally written:

With our pro football farmed out to St. Louis and Oakland, USC bowl-banned by NCAA probation, Major League Baseball lawyers throwing fits of caveat emptor regarding the Dodgers and the NBA lockout threatening to put the Lakers on hold, the Angels are positioned to dominate the Southland this fall.

It could almost match 2002, when the Angels claimed their lone World Series championship without winning the American League West.

Imagine the Halos not having to share headlines with USC football, the Lakers, or let’s hope, by then, the 405 Freeway.

The idea is nearly as farfetched as the idea of Ryan, former Angels superstar and strikeout king, ever becoming a big league owner.

We figured, post-career, “Tex” would lead a cattle drive from Refugio to Reno. Or maybe become mayor of Round Rock.

Ryan was to be honored at Angel Stadium on Tuesday night — in conjunction with former owner Gene Autry’s hall of fame induction — as part of the team’s 50-year anniversary festivities.

The “great eight” for me were 1972 to 1979, the years Ryan rocked the rubber.

Ryan returning as Texas’ owner, when he does, is the part that will chap my saddle.

The Angels’ foolishly letting Ryan walk away in 1979 with 14 years left in his bionic arm still gnaws at me like Henry VIII on a turkey leg.

My first thought when hearing Ryan was supposed to throw out Tuesday’s first pitch: “What, they couldn’t find two 8-7 ceremonial hurlers?”

That was General Manager Buzzie Bavasi’s rationale, remember, for letting Ryan walk in 1979 after he finished 16-14.

Bavasi later regretted saying he could find two 8-7 journeymen to replace Ryan, but he must have meant it when he said it.

Buzzie obviously sawed “Zzzs” through the 50 or 60 games Ryan deserved to win.

Didn’t they crunch numbers back then?

Ryan was 138-121 with the Angels with an earned-run average of 3.06. The Angels averaged 1.95 runs in his losses — 60 times scoring one run or fewer.

East Coast writers lazily labeled him a .500 pitcher, and decided against awarding Ryan the 1973 Cy Young Award after he finished 22-16 with a 2.87 ERA, pitched two no-hitters and struck out 383, breaking Sandy Koufax’s single-season record.

The Angels finished 79-83, though, so the myopic mythmakers voted for Baltimore’s dainty Jim Palmer, who preached pitching to contact, which was easy when your fielders were Gold Glove winners Brooks Robinson, Mark Belanger, Bobby Grich and Paul Blair.

Last year, Seattle’s Felix Hernandez earned the Cy Young with a record of 13-12. Hey, writers concluded, it’s not his fault he didn’t get run support.

What a concept.

I’ll never forget Ryan’s home opener: April 8, 1978. The man who struck out 19 — four times — never had nastier stuff.

Ryan whiffed 13 Oakland batters through six innings and actually had a 2-0 lead when, inexplicably, he was lifted by Manager Dave Garcia.

What immediately came to mind was Sam Peckinpah’s 1974 movie “Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia.” Just substitute Dave for Alfredo. Ryan had thrown 235 pitches in a game for the Angels on June 14, 1974 … and now you’re protecting his arm?

Instead of Ryan striking out 20 or 21, Garcia put the game in the incapable hands of “The Arson Squad.” On cue, relievers Paul Hartzell and Dave LaRoche combined to give up four runs in the eighth.

Hartzell took the loss … we took it in the gut.

A buddy and I literally ran screaming out of the stadium before the game was over, so shaken we forgot where we parked.

That was being an Angels fan in 1978.

It’s strange seeing the Angels so successful — satisfying, but strange.

Someone with a degree and a couch could probably explain why kids gravitate to perennial losers, especially when there’s a choice.

Fans from Cleveland are born into misery. Suffering at Boston’s Fenway Park spanned decades.

But why would a kid born in Southern California choose the Angels over the Dodgers?

Being a front-runner is so much easier. Early Angels fans, at least most of the ones I knew, sat in the back of class. We tended to be insecure smart alecks who questioned authority every time our manager made a pitching change.

The day your lovable loser becomes a winner can be exhilarating and conflicting.

What now?

You miss the no-brake parking and empty seats.

I was happy the Angels won in 2002, but those really weren’t my Angels.

Dodgers fans who rued the idiotic trade of Mike Piazza in 1998 might understand.

The Angels never meant the same after Ryan left in 1979. The franchise, increasingly desperate to win, became more Yankees-like. They transitioned into buying pennants by hiring former enemies such as Reggie Jackson.

The nerve of management, wanting to get good at baseball.

Yet, these same GM geniuses passed on one of their own, a future Hall of Fame pitcher named Nolan Ryan.

The team’s fan base grew exponentially as attitudes, and even the uniforms, were altered.

Of course it’s better now; it just isn’t the same.

Many suffered post-Ryan detachment syndrome. Call us the “pre-79ers.”

People ask whether it’s awkward having Ryan as owner of the Texas Rangers, the Angels’ chief rival in the American League West.

I see it as win-win, two underdogs of my youth finally getting their proper respect.

If the Angels can’t win it all, I want Ryan to win it — and not necessarily in that order.

It’s been fun watching a man many dismissed as “a thrower, not a pitcher,” rise to baseball’s highest echelon with a formula that includes injecting today’s pampered pitching mind-set with a double dose of Don Drysdale.

Ryan completed 222 games in his career. Johan Santana, a “workhorse” of the last decade, has 13 to go with his two Cy Young awards.

It’s a different game, yeah, a different era, blah, a different Ryan.

These are different Angels, and what’s not to like?

In my perfect world, though, one dramatic alteration is required: Ryan would have been re-signed by Autry in 1979 and become our Cal Ripken Jr.

Then, years later, when the franchise needed an owner after the Disney years, a consortium led by Ryan would have put in the winning bid.

That would have left model-owner Arte Moreno to buy the Dodgers and not have to change the city’s name. (Talk about win-win.)

They could have still planned Tuesday’s ceremony, with Autry and Ryan both recognized as hallowed Angels and owners.

That Ryan’s chest pains require him to take a rain check seems appropriate.

These are the Angels I know. Nothing ever works out as planned.

Heaven must wait … again.

chris.dufresne@latimes.com