I am Metatron! Seraphic attendant! Divine scrivener! Etcher of heavenly wisdom in the scrolls of eternity! Mere prophet no more, but seated by His dispensation at His feet, ever attentive! Most fortunate and cherished intermediary, blessed to be the first to hear such phrases as emanate from the All-Emanating!

I am Metatron! And in this space not one hundred days ago, I offered such speculations regarding the ill-named assembly – yet best-favored among the heavenly host – the Los Angels Angels of Anaheim! And yea, grave were the doubts which were cast upon the team and its prospects throughout the season’s days. For whereupon it was observed that lo, while the valiant party of Anaheim may reach the postseason owing to the paucity of its competition, it had not the mettle of a true champion!

I am Metatron! And aye and woe be upon me for such lack of faith! The nature of my folly is legion, its depths as yet unplumbed! Aye and woe! For as of this warp in the ever-unfurling banner of Time, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim have triumphed in 52 games, a total more majestic than any yet realized by their rivals, save the Boston Red Sox! They transcend the efforts of the surprisingly credible Seattle Mariners by nearly five full contests! They have proved themselves a team of the first rank, reducing my own carefully reasoned scrutiny to a heap of noisome ash! Aye and woe!

I am Metatron, and it pains me to invoke the twin afflictions of aye and woe in the midst of such triumphant striving by our favored squad! Aspersions were cast upon the offense, and lo, the team has scored 426 runs to date! Suspicions were laid at the feet of Gary Matthews Jr., and he has kicked them hence, back into our seraphic face! Doubts were invoked towards Kelvim Escobar, and he has transmuted those, my doubts, into this, my shame. O, my shame! I have not felt thee for three millenia, and yea, you do prick me today, and most poignantly!

I am Metatron! And in my angelic defense, I must note that in many particulars, my sight has been true! The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim yet forswear the home run! That same congress of sportsmen yet boasts no cleanup hitter! Bartolo Colon yet resembles in shape an immense gourd with legs, and has of late pitched no better than might such an aberrant vegetable! Lo, and further, Garret Anderson’s body has come undone! Lo, and further, Shea Hillenbrand required over 200 plate appearances to accrue five walks, five doubles, and three home runs! And yet, this company walks with the Red Sox and the Tigers among the fields of the elite! How so? Ay, indeed, how so?

I am Metatron! And despite my most majestic purview which extends from the time of the ancients until the moment of the very inscription of this sentence, I have failed to apprehend! I have failed to apprehend Casey Kotchman, suddenly translated by dint of some unearthly force into the upper eschelon of the league’s first baseman! Nor have I apprehended Orlando Cabrera, and the possibility that he might hit sixty points higher than his lifetime average! I have failed – utterly – to apprehend Reggie Willits, whom one would suspect of being possessed by the soul of David Eckstein, were David Eckstein’s soul not still ensconced within David Eckstein’s corporeal form! Nor Howie Kendrick! Nor Dustin Moesley! Though my vision extends to the horizons of earthly existence, I have failed to apprehend that which lay before my very gaze! For yea, they were all-stars before me, yet all I could see was Dallas McPherson!

I am Metatron! And there is but one explanation: The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim do embody a test! A test, yet, of acumen and faith, both! And in every respect, I have failed! I see now what the All-Seeing has seen since the first sight of His humble servant! I am Metatron, and I am unfit to offer discernments that flow not from the All-Discerning! Nay, my lot is to inscribe, and inscribe solely that which be uttered by the All-Uttering! Never must I waver from this charge! Never must I offer mine own counsel, no matter how wearied by the task of inscription! Eternal, endless, infinite inscription – I humbly welcome thee. I welcome thee truly, and most verily. Aye and woe, thou are no less than I deserve for my overweening pride!

I am Metatron!

Would that I were not.

Metatron has served as the scribe of God since 3094 BC, when he was assumed into heaven after 365 years of earthly existence as the prophet Enoch. According to jazz combo The Bad Plus, Metatron is the “Archangel of Karma, a dude you would like to have on your side.”