But Angels' star gets them even when he's going good. As push kept getting closer to shock on Saturday, another Angel Stadium capacity crowd cringed with each inside pitch and swallowed hard with every glare shot toward the mound by a peeved batter.
The Yankees and the Angels were staging their typical brouhaha -- one far more taut than the 12-7 final would imply -- meaning everyone spent most of the afternoon enveloped by suspense and sapped by tension. This pennant-race watching is hard stuff.
Fortunately, Garret Anderson and Alex Rodriguez are always good for letting people blow off some steam, something best accomplished through a healthy round of boos.
A-Rod and G-Dog, two guys who started at the same time (1994) and have arrived at the same place: the purgatory of high expectations, where failure isn't accepted; baseball being the sport of 70 percent failure, these guys get a lot of grief.
Rodriguez has become a favorite target of Yankees fans even when he's going good. Now? Don't ask.
And, Anderson for years has been the Angels' A-Rod, someone either getting on base or having people get on him.
Sure, the world is full of love-hate relationships. But alternately from the same people? You'd be amazed how many boos Anderson has crammed among 2,048 hits and 1,116 RBIs. Or how many catcalls Rodriguez has heard among 455 home runs and 1,319 RBIs.
They are the same sides of two very different coins, a revelation that becomes apparent while watching them compete on the same field, persevering as their respective club's signature player.
Anderson has that rank in deed: He is the franchise career leader in hits, total bases, RBIs and games played. Rodriguez has it in perception: Any Yankees loss, big or bigger, will continue to be his fault.
They went their separate ways Saturday. G-Dog had a couple of hits, drove in four runs. A-Rod wore another collar with five notches; the only thing new for Rodriguez was his place in the lineup, as Joe Torre had him batting No. 2 for the first time in an attempt to shake him to life.
Yet we're certain A-Rod will still have bigger headlines Sunday in New York than G-Dog will in Southern California. The evidence was there in the postgame scenes: While a horde of reporters waited out Rodriguez in the funereal Yankees clubhouse, no one had staked out Anderson's locker before he quietly departed the premises.
Even on a day when his two-run homer had given the Angels a temporary lead, his run-scoring grounder had driven in the eventual winning run, and his RBI single had signaled rout -- Anderson heard those boos.
These came in the top of the second, when Robinson Cano flied out to him with one out and Bobby Abreu on third base -- and Anderson's made that I-ain't-got-a-shot-at-a-play lob into the infield.
"But he gets cheered a lot, too," said Anderson's manager, Mike Scioscia. "Why the boos? I really don't know."
Many longtime Angels observers have an inkling: It is because of the way G-Dog plays, with a high degree of self-assurance and self-awareness, which stop him from making grandstand plays just for show. He paces himself. Some interpret "pacing" as "loafing" but, if you pay attention, Vladimir Guerrero plays the same way without ever having to hear about it.
In other words, people boo G-Dog because he is cool.
Complete Article:
Major League Baseball : News : Baseball Perspectives
Anderson, A-Rod hear the boos
Anderson, A-Rod hear the boos
Linear Mode
