Steve Finley has finally found a buddy for the bench. The old man ought to clear a space for MaicEEEr Izturis, becuase I don't think MaicEEEr is going to be doing a whole lot of starting from here on in, and he may have just cost himself a spot on the post-season roster.
When MaicEEEr wasn't booting balls at third, Bart was working on his 20th win, the first 20 game winner for the Angels since Nolan Ryan in 1974, which means he's the first since I've been old enough to actually pick up a baseball, right around the time I started walking and talking. Congrats, Bart. Escobar pitched a solid 8th, working around a one out walk to the Junior Sarge. Frankie did his Frankie thing again, putting runners on, striking batters out, and generally giving everyone a heart attack. Rivera continued to make his case for being in the everyday lineup with a solo homer, which gave the Angels a lead they wouldn't relinquish.
And the White Sox finally won, which ought to allow their fans, who are gripping seriously hard, a chance to back away from the ledge a bit. Crede homered in the tenth right as I pulled into my parking space as I returned from what you may have just read about in the post above.
We do it again tomorrow night.