Kelvim was hot, lucky for him that he started against a weaker hitting lineup, but a major league one nonetheless.
A good old fashioned pitching duel was solved by an old basball player.
A tip of Heaven's Halo to Frosty Finley for warming up at the right moment in the game. And I missed the memo that Finley was a 'Neck. Did you hear him talk in the pregame interview? Where was the Deliverance-style strumming banjo?
Frankie bounced back without the assistance of the L.A. Times, oh dear, what is next, castrating Robert Hilburn and wheeling him out to sing the National Anthem bedecked in Bono sunglasses and a Bob Dylan harmonica?
Up the freeway, The Los Angeles Times of Chicago is boo-hooing the loss of their cronies in Dodger management by railroading the new ownership, so they take unction at Angel players avoiding what would amount to a conversation of clichés. What they are really bemoaning is that life (and quality relief pitching) goes on whether the L.A. Times gets the story or not.
Why bother with a well-thought argument: This is not a family blog. They are fucking assholes.