Vulnerable Side Starts to Show

OAKLAND —  Rather than wondering exactly where the closer’s head was in the ninth inning of a game with first place on the line, the Angels would be as well served examining why the bullpen suddenly can’t get big outs, or any outs, against good teams (see: Yankees, New York), or how one swollen knee can result in Vladimir Guerrero’s being walked intentionally three times Thursday afternoon.

Oh, the Angels wandered the clubhouse averting their eyes, requisitely mourning the end of a game that, rather than ending, died at their feet. They left first place behind when they boarded for Seattle, and now they are officially chasing, which, in the future, might be reminder enough to catch the ball first and cast despondently upon the umpire second.

They could dismiss their 5-4 loss to the Oakland A’s as some freak of Francisco Rodriguez’s attention span, or this series as some freak 20 hours of baseball, but they shouldn’t. In three days here, they saw a better bullpen than their own, they saw a defense as adept, and they saw a team that was neither lucky nor over its skis. Well, until the very end.

The A’s might ultimately not be the better team, but they can be for four innings, which is how long they led in winning two of three in the series. And they can be for seven weeks, which is how long everybody has left.

If they had questions about the Angels’ vulnerability, Wednesday’s seventh inning answered most of them, and Thursday’s seventh-through-ninth innings took care of the rest.

When the A’s leaned into them after Tuesday night’s blowout, the Angels missed cut-off men, threw wild pitches, grooved fastballs, failed to score with a runner at third and none out, and had no left-hander to pitch to Eric Chavez in Thursday’s pivotal seventh inning. Of the latter point, this while lefties Ron Villone, Mike Remlinger, Alan Embree and Buddy Groom all changed franchises in the past few weeks.

Granted, none is what you’d term an ace, but as Brendan Donnelly’s earned-run average rose above 4.00, and as Chavez had seen nothing but right-handers for a few days, one lefty might have come in handy.

The really sad thing for the Angels is that they played themselves into a place where a simple game of catch could beat them, where Mike Scioscia had no choice but to summon his closer in a tie game on the road, where one marginal call would lead to one half-effort and one mad sprint from third base. Sadder still, the Angels know they beat Rich Harden, and had Barry Zito and Joe Blanton beaten, and have second place to show for it.

And in the loss that gave the series to the A’s, Guerrero saw four pitches and took two swings. On the first, he homered to left-center field. On the second, he flied out to left. In between, he was walked intentionally when the A’s option was to pitch to rookie Casey Kotchman, and in the seventh and ninth innings he was walked intentionally in front of Bengie Molina.

In Garret Anderson’s absence, Kotchman, Molina and Steve Finley were left with some critical at-bats. And although Finley doubled home two runs for a four-run lead in the seventh, he spent most of the afternoon popping out.

Now everybody is expending a lot of energy convincing themselves Finley is in a four-month slump -- and not a career’s-over inevitability -- while outfielders Jay Payton, Preston Wilson, Eric Byrnes and Matt Lawton all changed franchises in the past few weeks.

As a result, the music in their clubhouse late Thursday afternoon was so loud the A’s could feel the bass through their feet. They stood over a video game and hooted at each others’ failures. Flawed, yes, like the Angels, but in first place alone after a very long, very difficult, very unlikely climb.

The series that couldn’t possibly create any distance at the top of the AL West quite possibly did, as Rodriguez sat in the grass behind the mound and the A’s mobbed Jason Kendall.

The Angels will never know how Thursday’s game, and the series, was supposed to end, whether it was one more pitch to Chavez, or one more late revival by themselves.

“I play in the moment,” Darin Erstad said through taut lips. “And that’s the moment. That’s the way it happened.”

What else could they say? They’ll need Rodriguez. They’ll need Donnelly. They’ll need to forget as best they can and play the game, and hit the cut-off man, and catch the ball when someone throws it at them from 60 feet away. All the stuff they’re known for.

Kendall did.

“That’s the way this game is,” he said. “Keep playing until it’s done.... Stuff happens, that’s all.”