Introducing The View Level
Because 2023 seems like a damn fine time to resume writing about baseball, the Angels, and the bloody intersection between politics and sports.
When God gives you a sign, you’d best learn some sign language, is the way I figure it.
The revelation here came on the evening of March 21, 2023, when the defending champion U.S. baseball team, led by captain Mike Trout, faced off in the World Baseball Classic final against previous two-time winner Japan, led by Trout’s Angel teammate, Shohei Ohtani. The two men carried in giant flags during pre-game introductions. I am an Angels fan by both childhood baptism and adolescent confirmation; Shohei’s my favorite player, and I love the WBC, having watched much of the initial 2006 tournament (won by a super-compelling Japanese team) at The Big A. Japan facing the U.S. in the 1984 Olympics final is my shooting-an-elephant story about becoming a political weirdo; and oh yeah I forgot to mention that America’s semifinal win came against Team Cuba, in Miami, with all the international intrigue you’d expect (even if almost none of it was shown on Fox). I had attempted moving to Cuba in 1998, in large part to write about the island’s rich baseball culture, a subject I continue to follow.
So the planets were clearly aligned already, but the Big Manager in the Sky must have been worried that my reflexes have been too slowed by time and stress (which, fair), and therefore left absolutely nothing to chance. Not only would the gold-medal game be a nail-biting, one-run classic, but Ohtani himself would seal the victory with an epic, full-count strikeout of none other than Mike everlovin’ Trout. John Smoltz, the Hall of Fame pitcher turned godawful color commentator, mercifully reported that he had “run out of words” to describe the storybook showdown, but he did have a point: The entire thrilling 20-team tournament came down to two teams, two players, two teammates, two Angels, and an amazing 3-2 slider. Maybe, just maybe, that bush on fire was burning, at least a little bit, for me.
I have been writing about baseball, in dribs and drabs and long spontaneous heaves, in the stolen off-hours of a mostly political writing and now podcasting career, for outlets both unheard of and familiar, going on a quarter century now. Sometimes Reason (my primary employer for much of that span) will reluctantly let me slip something in; sometimes the old “statheads” (as we used to sort of call ourselves in the comments section of Baseball Primer way back when) would invite me to write an Angels essay for their annual publication, and as often as not I would type up hot-stove chatter or the results of OCDtastic Angels-history spelunking either over at my malware-ruined personal blog or at the once-great Angels fansite Halos Heaven. (Whose original founder, Mat “Rev. Halofan” Gleason, came up with the name for this here Substack. Thanks, Rev!)
These sporadic bursts of enthusiasm have been scattered across the interwebs, weighed down by link-rot, often discoverable only through archive.org workarounds from long-shuttered or neglected websites. In the summer of 2022, while convalescing from an unspeakable ear malady and prepping my first-ever visit to the Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony in Cooperstown (look me up when you’re there next time!), I experienced a sudden, whole-of-body hankering to resume writing about baseball and the Angels, which soon translated into twin journeys of discovery -- to remember and find and organize these disparate strands, and going forward, figure out how to present things in a format where I can CONTROL THE WAY THE NUMBERS LOOK. By which I mean, line up rows of stats so that the integers take up the same amount of efficiently used space, allowing us to grok the numerical visual then move on. Like this, instead of this. Sounds like a childishly easy obstacle to overcome, I know, but, well, have you met me?
So there weren’t a lot of snappy-looking tables in the pieces I wrote that summer for a site we were doing back then called Paloma Media, but it was fun to crack the knuckles again and yammer about ... well, Shohei Ohtani and Mike Trout!
Fast forward to 2023. We let Paloma take a dirt nap, the baseball bug was still gnawing at me, the Angels were prepping Ohtani’s final contract year by greatly improving the team; I began working on a long culture essay about a movie I’ve long criticized (Field of Dreams), and started visualizing a longer project on same. ‘Twas then that I recalled what Substack Co-founder Hamish McKenzie said to me soon after we met (“When are you going to start your own Substack!”), and so, locating the archive I’d assembled last summer, I said to myself, “Self? I wonder if Substack’s publishing template allows for making the numbers look like I want them to look?”
Reader, it does.
NM G PA R HR RBI SB/CS AVG OBP SLG OPS+ WAA RK
BG 2008 8220 1033 224 864 104/83 .266 .371 .424 125 43.6 6
LW 2390 9967 1386 244 1084 143/75 .276 .363 .426 117 42.7 7
CU 1937 7863 1104 259 1025 154/22 .275 .368 .465 117 40.9 8
WR 2202 9462 1239 54 687 271/94 .276 .373 .351 104 36.1 12
DP 1512 6777 922 140 725 138/46 .299 .365 .439 113 29.4 16
JK 2298 9537 1320 377 1518 94/60 .290 .356 .500 123 26.6 20
(Those who know, know.)
I want to have a place where the best of my baseball/sports-related writing lives, so this is that place. I want to have a venue for publishing and promoting new chunks of writing and talking on the subject, so this is that venue. More auspiciously, though, I think there’s just something special, even supernatural, about the way that 2023 is shaping up for the Angels, for the national pastime, and for some long-simmering editorial projects. This, I feel in my bones, is the year.
One ignores divine providence at one’s peril. March 21, 2023 showed us that this is shaping up to be the Year of the Angels; on the exact same day I received a sweet, hilarious, and wholly unrelated email of encouragement for my baseball work from one of the most celebrated writers in America. Also, it’s spring, the flowers are blooming, and the weather’s nice. I SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING THERE, BIG GUY.
It's March 22 now, so let’s start a Substack.
Programming note: So sign up if you want whatever new piece of baseball/sports-related content I produce to land in your in-box. If that feels like too much, don’t! I do hope in any case that you poke around the archive, which has some work I’m proud of (or at least find amusing), and please leave comments where and when the mood strikes.
I have zero intention of ever charging for this, or promising X amount of stuff at Y frequency. (There is a “Pledge” option for anyone who could imagine themselves giving money in the future, but I would only pull the trigger if it became insane not to.) Basically, I just want more baseball conversatin’ in my life, and excuses to write more. So welcome!