Ultimate Yankees killer passes away unexpectedly at age of 53

The New York Yankees have only advanced past the Angels once in the postseason in franchise history: 2009, en route to their most recent World Series championship. Odds are that series victory only occurred because Garret Anderson was playing in Atlanta that year, having left Anaheim after the 2008 season.

In series defeats in 2002 and 2005, Anderson was there, the steady beating heart of an Angels team that redefined relentlessness. The Rally Monkey may have been the face of their intimidation tactics, but it was truly the steely Anderson who drove the action, hitting .389 in the 2002 ALDS and .263 with a pair of homers in the 2005 series.

If it felt like he was always rising to the occasion when the Yankees were in Anaheim (or welcomed the Angels into the Bronx), that's because he was; the throwback superstar-without-seeking-the-spotlight hit .319 with an .825 OPS and 15 homers/83 RBI against the Bombers in a massive, near-full-season sample size of 124 games. In 55 games at Yankee Stadium, he hit .307.

Anderson coming to town meant that a playoff-hardened team that refused to be intimidated by any deficit would be tiring out your starters, getting to the bullpen, and metronomically trying to burn your house down. Though his profile has receded further in retirement - unsurprising, for such a humble soul - Anderson returned to the headlines on Friday in a manner most horrifying, with the Angels announcing his sudden death at the age of 53.

According to MLB insider Jon Heyman, a heart attack is the suspected cause.

Angels icon, Yankees playoff menace Garret Anderson was the classiest rival you could hope for

That's Garret with one T, of course. Based on the way he handled the Yankees, it's entirely unsurprising to watch the end of his name get T'd off.

The Angels' franchise has fallen on middling times - even with names like Mike Trout and Shohei Ohtani leading the way - and it's occasionally tough to remember just how storied the 2000s Yankees' battles with the Halos became. Perhaps that's also because there wasn't much vitriol involved, but rather a begrudging "They Can't Keep Getting Away With This!" acknowledgment of success. That was the power of Anderson's leadership.

The Red Sox were big and brash. They made their bones around riding into New York, unclean, and poking the Yankees' tradition until it bled like a fake ketchup sock. Anderson's Angels merely got the job done and shook your hand after they were done eviscerating you.

But fans of a certain age know that Anderson's good behavior didn't preclude you from being terrified of his arrival. Big Papi brought the bombast (and the insufferable Bostonians). Anderson brought the intimidating steely glare and automatic extra bases. May he rest in peace.

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