I haven’t done one of these already, have I? An Angels top 10? I’m confident I have not. To the point that I’m not going to search my own blog.

The Angels. Hmmm. The deal with them? I saw them play, a lot, when I was a teen. Once I got a driver’s license, and was living in Long Beach, it was easier to go to an Angels game than a Dodgers game. A shorter drive, for starters.

But the main thing? You could walk up to the ticket box six days out of seven and get good seats. The Angels just weren’t very popular. At all.

I’m looking at their home attendance, in the early 1970s, when I would have been old enough to drive, and it was pathetic — 1,077,000 in 1970; 926,373 in 1971; 744,190 in 1972; 1,058000 in 1973; 917,269 in 1974; barely over 1 million in both 1975 and 1976, and after that I had a job.

That same period, the Dodgers drew a low of 1.7 million (in 1970) and were over 2 million five of the six other years. So demand for Angels tickets was, essentially, half that of the Dodgers.

But I never had an emotional connection to the Angels. They were just the team I went so see, as a fan. Whether they won or lost … well, no one expected them to win anything … didn’t really matter. We were there to see individuals, from the Angels or the other side.

Even, still, there were some guys then (and later) that made an impression on me. And here are the 10 I remember best:

10. Chili Davis. Let’s stipulate this right now: A lot of guys on this list aren’t really Angels, you know? Came up in someone else’s organization, signed with the team later, played a few seasons, then went somewhere else. Chili is one of those, for sure. The Angels just were never good about developing their own guys and keeping them. A big reason why they rarely amounted to anything, pre-2002. Anyway, Chili was with the Angels for seven of his 19 big-league seasons, and they came in two different chunks (1988-90, 1993-96). But he did good work with the club, hitting at least 20 homers and driving in at least 80 runs all but one of his seven Angels seasons. He was a major presence in the clubhouse. Also, a fun guy, a cool guy, and a great quote. Chili would say some really random stuff, which I loved, because I was covering him as a reporter, when he was here.

9. Darin Erstad. A dude who approached every baseball game as if it were a do-or-die battle, and you have to appreciate that. I always thought it was because he had a football background (as a punter, at Nebraska). Good wheels, modest power and one huge season, in 2000, when he piled up 240 hits and made a run at George Sisler’s record (corrected from Willie Keeler; see comment below) — the one Ichiro Suzuki got a few years later. Also won a Gold Glove in 2000. A serious gamer, and I see him now with that enormous chaw in his cheek. But not exactly a good quote. Too intense. Maybe too focused. Or dull.

8. Alex Johnson. Sort of the all-time Angels anti-hero. He won a batting title, in 1970, still the only batting title won by an Angel. Thing about Johnson: He was not warm. He was not cuddly. He wasn’t a team player, and he was a wretched outfielder. Basically, he didn’t do much more than spray singles around the yard. And he thought he was The Man. But it was fun to walk up to the ticket window, get a seat behind home plate 10 minutes before the first pitch and watch this guy hack. He hit .3289, edging out the competition (I’m thinking it was Carl Yastrzemski) for the batting title. He played only two seasons in Anaheim, which tells you what the Angels thought of him, and played for eight clubs in his 13 seasons — and never more than two seasons for anybody. Yeah. One of those guys. A Jose Guillen with less pop.

7. Don Baylor. A good guy, a serious pro, and you had to appreciate him. Especially when he was the MVP in 1979, and the Angels made the playoffs for the first time. “Groove” could rake but he couldn’t play defense; a shoulder injury from high school ruined his throwing arm. A good guy in the clubhouse, too.

6. Gary DiSarcina. One of those leader-type shortstops who take over teams. Think Derek Jeter or Barry Larkin. Spent his entire career with the Angels (!), all 12 seasons of it. There are those who believe the Angels wouldn’t have been caught by the Seattle Mariners in the 1995 pennant race (and then beaten, in a one-game playoff) if DiSar hadn’t gone down with a season-ending injury in August. A steady, solid, admirable guy whose career was really damaged by injuries.

5. Bobby Grich. Another (all together now) Guy Who Wasn’t Quite an Angel, though he was more of one than several other guys on this list. Came up with the Orioles in 1970, signed with the Angels in 1977 and played the final 10 seasons of his career with them. A middle infielder with pop, who could (and did) hit cleanup. A stiff defender, because he had hurt his back as a prep quarterback at Long Beach Wilson High School, in a CIF playoffs game at Redlands. But he was adequate. And if your second baseman could lead the league in homers (as Grich did with 22 in the strike-shortened 1981 season), you’ve got something going on.

4. Frank Tanana. Nolan Ryan’s mirror image. A loose, fun-loving lefty, and part of the league’s best 1-2 punch — before his arm exploded while trying to work with Ryan in the four-man rotation that Nolie preferred. Spent only eight of his 21 big-league seasons with the Angels, but those were his best eight seasons, when he not only threw nasty junk but also could just blow it past people. He struck out 269 in 1975 and 261 in 1976 and, actually, was a far better pitcher (then) than Ryan because Tanana didn’t walk remotely as many people.

3. Ken Berry. Yet another guy who wasn’t really an Angel (just three of his 14 seasons, 1971-73), but I often saw him play for the Angels, and I loved his game. A fairly feeble hitter, but a guy with speed who played a great center field. Got great jumps on balls, and ran them down. Just a pleasure to watch. One of those guys who got the most of his limited talent, like another one coming up soon. A great bunter. He won a Gold Glove in 1972, and deserved it.

2. Nolan Ryan. The Express! The hardest-throwing man in modern baseball history, and maybe ever. Certainly, no guy threw as hard as long as this guy did. Randy Johnson might be second on the list. Anyway, he was the guy you went to see, in the early 1970s. He spent only eight of his 27 big-league seasons wearing the halo, but in my mind he will always be an Angel. If Nolan were throwing, we were far more likely to go to the game. My brother and I and one of the neighbor kids, Frankie Poturica or maybe Rob Washam. Ryan was going to strike out a ton of people, and scare to death everyone else, because not only did he throw BBs, he was a little mean. He was good for a no-hitter every year or two, as well. He struck out 300-plus batters five of the eight seasons he was in Anaheim, including a single-season record 383 in 1973. It was Ryan who turned in the most dominant pitching performance I’ve seen in person, against the Boston Red Sox, July 9, 1972. As I recall, he got an out, walked Reggie Smith, gave up a single to Carl Yastrzemski — then retired 26 consecutive batters, including eight consecutive by strikeout, and three straight in the second inning on a total of nine pitches. He was unhittable. Utterly dominant. He finished with 16 Ks and that one walk. The Angels were never important, their first 15 years, unless Nolan Ryan was pitching.

1. David Eckstein. Loved this guy. A winner. A bulldog of a competitor. Modest skills, a weak arm. a tiny guy (5-7, maybe, though he probably claims 5-9) … but just a tremendous gamer who wrung every ounce of production out of his minimal talents. A guy who played hard, like every routine grounder was his last chance to get to first base. Never coasted one second in his career. Also, a relentlessly modest (for good reason, some would say) kid, always pleasant. A guy it was easy (almost impossible) not to root for. And the starting shortstop for the Angels’ one championship team. No coincidence, none, far as I’m concerned.