Who Goofed? I’ve Got To Know!

This past Sunday, a game was played in Oakland between the hometown Athletics and the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. The game went long, and was tied 3-3 going into the bottom of the 12th inning.

The game was telecast to Southern California on KCOP/13 of Los Angeles.

The A’s loaded the bases in the bottom of the 12th. Chris Bootcheck was pitching for the Angels. The batter was Oakland 2nd baseman Mark Ellis.

Bootcheck goes into his windup and delivers. Ellis swings and hits a walkoff grand slam home run for a 7-3 Athletics’ win. The crowd at McAfee Coliseum goes crazy. The entire A’s bench greets Ellis at home plate. Joy permeates the air in Oakland.

Oh, and one other thing: The viewers in Southern California never see it.

Just before the pitch is thrown, color bars appear on the screen. Then, the screen goes black with the KCOP logo in one corner. Then a commercial runs. Following that, the 1997 movie “Smilla’s Sense of Snow”, starring Julia Ormond, begins running. No game. No announcement. Nothing.

Angels Vice President Tim Mead blames the snafu on miscommunications on the production end. “It was some kind of miscommunication between the parties who oversee the satellite feed.”

Production staff in Oakland took the necessary steps to extend the satellite time window as the game went long, nearly four hours. However, the connection went black at precisely 5 p.m.

The glitch apparently resulted from problems between AT&T and Vyvx, the satellite carrier for Sunday’s game.

Added an obviously angry Mead: “We’re going to get answers.”

I’ll betcha Heidi was never like this.

Angels, 1971

This past Thursday, the LA Angels of Anaheim saluted the 1971 California Angels with a “Throwback Day”, wearing the uniforms of 1971, which featured a lower case “a” on both the cap and jersey. They were worn for only the one year.

Why the recognition, though? Even though they didn’t finish last, 1971 was arguably the worst year in Angel history.

The General Manager was Dick Walsh, who had been brought in at the beginning of 1969. Previously, he had been a non-personnel executive with the Dodgers, and had been commissioner of the National Soccer League, which had just folded.

The manager was Harold (Lefty) Phillips, previously a pitching coach with the Dodgers. Upon arriving with the Angels, it was only a matter of time until Walsh was going to fire the popular original Angel manager, Bill Rigney, and replace him with his toadie Phillips. That’s just what happened in late May of 1969. Long story short, Lefty Phillips had no business being a major league baseball manager.

Left fielder Alex Johnson had won the American League batting title the previous season. The team had traded for Tony Conigliaro, who was considered on the way back from a vicious beaning that had blurred the vision in his left eye. The Angels were favorites to win the American League Western Division.

The season was a total disaster.

The team was ripped to shreds by dissention, which adversely affected their play. Much of the tension was centered around Johnson, who seemed to display a lack of effort at times. Phillips suspended him, but was later overruled by baseball arbitrators. He still refused to use him.

Conigliaro failed to hit his weight. His eyesight was still an issue. One night against the Oakland A’s, he struck out 5 times. After the last strikeout, which was swinging, he went into a rage, cussing at everybody and everything. The home plate umpire understandably ejected him. At that point, Conigliaro threw his batting helmet up in the air and swung at it. He missed. Badly. And went into a bigger rage. Teammates had to get him back into the dugout and in to the clubhouse. The next morning, without the benefit of sleep, he announced his retirement. A horrible way for a once promising superstar to go out. And sad.

There are varying versions of what happened, but what is known for sure is that utility infielder Chico Ruiz pulled a gun on Alex Johnson in the clubhouse. It was supposedly a joke, but it put a pall on the team that lasted all season. The Angels became the butt of jokes.

As things turned out, Johnson was a victim of team viciousness as home fans jeered and taunted him. According to Marvin Miller, then head of the players union, the Angels were rife with old-time Southern racism within its roster. The daily torture made Johnson, well, crazy. He needed professional help, and got it.

In 1989, I met Clyde (Skeeter) Wright, a pitcher with the ‘71 Halos, and a native of Tennessee, and I asked him about the situation. He told me that he personally had gotten along fine with Johnson, but others had problems. I noted to myself that he didn’t say Johnson was the problem.

One anecdote that surfaced: one of the players who constantly tormented Alex Johnson approached him one night after a game. He told him a big sob story, started crying, and asked him if he could borrow $5,000, then a huge chunk of a player’s salary. Easily over 10% of most players’ pay in 1971. Without blinking, Johnson was going to write him a check. The player, totally shocked at Johnson’s impending generosity, stopped him, and told him he was only kidding.

The 1971 Angels were known as Hell’s Angels. They earned that label.

The team finished last in the AL in runs, but were 3rd in team ERA. The dreary season continued on and on in front of record numbers of empty seats. By season’s end, Anaheim Stadium resembled a picture postcard of an empty ballpark.

Walsh, feeling heat from above, fired his pal Phillips, who passed away a short time later. Walsh, nicknamed “The Smiling Python” by the players, was fired soon after, with four years left on his contract. Johnson, after receiving the needed professional help, was traded to Cleveland and was able to save his career, hitting .287 for the Indians. He said he liked it better there. Chico Ruiz died a short time after the season ended in Puerto Rico in a car accident. Tony Conigliaro, after failing comeback tryouts with the Red Sox and Giants, suffered a stroke and went into a coma that lasted for two years before he passed away.

It makes me marvel all the more: Why commemorate 1971?