For 106 consecutive games, the Los Angeles Angels could not find a way to win when trailing in the ninth inning — a drought that spoke not just to a team's struggles, but to the quiet erosion of faith between a franchise and its people. On a Monday night in Anaheim, that faith was briefly, powerfully restored, not by a grand slam or a stolen base, but by a walk-off hit-by-pitch and the collective roar of fans waving their shirts in the summer air. The 'tarps off' movement, born in St. Louis and carried westward, became something larger than a cheer — a ritual of belonging, and a demand for som
Angels break 106-game ninth-inning drought with fan-fueled walk-off win
The 106-game drought was over, and the fans had played a role in it.
A 106-game streak without a ninth-inning comeback—how does a team even accumulate something like that?
It's the kind of number that speaks to something deeper than just bad luck. You don't go that long without winning a close game in the ninth unless something structural is broken. The talent isn't there, the clutch gene isn't there, or the organization has lost faith in itself.
And the fans responded by taking their shirts off?
It sounds absurd when you say it that way, but there's something real happening in that right-field section. These aren't casual observers. They're showing up, they're organized, they're making noise. The "tarps off" thing started with Cardinals fans—it's become this whole thing around baseball. But for Angels fans, it's become a way to say something else too.
What are they saying?
"Sell the team." That's what you hear underneath the cheering. The owner hasn't made the playoffs in over a decade. The team is 40-61. The fans are frustrated, and they're using the one tool they have—their presence, their voice, their bodies—to demand change.
Did the shirt-waving actually cause the walk-off, or is that just narrative?
Probably both. Did it physically make the pitcher throw a ball at Adell? No. But did it create an atmosphere where the Cardinals felt pressure, where the Angels felt supported, where something shifted? Almost certainly. Baseball is played by humans. Humans respond to crowds.
So the protest and the celebration are the same thing?
In this case, yes. The fans are celebrating their team while also demanding better from their ownership. It's not contradictory. It's what happens when you love something enough to want it to be better.
Le Pouls
- A 106-game streak of ninth-inning futility had quietly become one of baseball's most dispiriting records, hanging over Angel Stadium like a storm that wouldn't break.
- Hundreds of fans in right field stripped off their shirts and waved them overhead, turning the stands into a churning sea of noise and color that refused to let the game slip away.
- Jo Adell stepped to the plate with the bases loaded and the game tied, and a Cardinals pitcher — perhaps undone by the din — threw a pitch that struck him, sending Zach Neto home with the winning run.
- The same section that erupted in celebration had spent much of the season chanting 'Sell the team,' transforming a borrowed fan ritual into a pointed indictment of Arte Moreno's ownership.
- With a 40-61 record and no playoff appearance since 2014, the Angels' faithful are celebrating a single walk-off win while quietly demanding a far larger reckoning.
For 106 consecutive games, the Los Angeles Angels could not find a way to win when trailing in the ninth inning — a drought that spoke not just to a team's struggles, but to the quiet erosion of faith between a franchise and its people. On a Monday night in Anaheim, that faith was briefly, powerfully restored, not by a grand slam or a stolen base, but by a walk-off hit-by-pitch and the collective roar of fans waving their shirts in the summer air. The 'tarps off' movement, born in St. Louis and carried westward, became something larger than a cheer — a ritual of belonging, and a demand for something better.
The Los Angeles Angels had not won a game while trailing in the ninth inning for 106 straight contests. That changed Monday night at Angel Stadium, and the victory felt as much like a fan achievement as a team one.
Down 2-1 in the eighth inning, hundreds of supporters in right field began pulling off their shirts and waving them overhead — the 'tarps off' movement, a shirt-shedding cheer that had originated with Cardinals fans at Busch Stadium in May and spread across baseball like a warm-weather fever. The Angels faithful had made it their own, and they kept it going through the bottom of the ninth.
With the bases loaded and the game tied, Jo Adell stepped in against a Cardinals pitcher who, rattled or simply unlucky, hit him with a pitch. Zach Neto jogged home. Final score: Angels 3, Cardinals 2. The drought was over.
But the 'tarps off' section had become more than a celebration. Chants of 'Sell the team' had risen from those same seats throughout the season, directed at owner Arte Moreno as the franchise sat at 40-61, eleven games out of first in the AL West, without a playoff appearance since 2014. What began as pageantry had sharpened into protest.
Cardinals manager Oliver Marmol had once embraced the movement so warmly he offered to buy tickets for fans who wanted to join in. On this night, though, it was the Angels who wielded it — turning collective noise into something that felt, at least for one evening, like genuine power.
The Los Angeles Angels had not won a game while trailing in the ninth inning for 106 consecutive contests. That streak ended on Monday night at Angel Stadium, and the improbable victory belonged as much to the fans as it did to the players on the field.
With the Angels down 2-1 in the eighth inning, hundreds of supporters in right field began removing their shirts and waving them overhead in a coordinated display of noise and color. The "tarps off" movement, as it has come to be known, had become a fixture at the ballpark this season—a visceral, shirt-shedding cheer that had originated with Cardinals fans at Busch Stadium back in May. Now the Angels faithful were borrowing the tactic, amplifying it, making it their own.
The chanting and the waving continued through the bottom of the ninth. Jo Adell stepped to the plate with the bases loaded and the game tied. The Cardinals pitcher, perhaps rattled by the roaring crowd or simply by circumstance, threw a pitch that struck Adell. Zach Neto trotted home with the winning run. The Angels had their walk-off victory, 3-2, and the 106-game drought was over.
What had begun as a celebratory fan ritual had evolved into something more pointed. The "tarps off" section in right field had become a venue for protest as well as pageantry. "Sell the team" had been chanted from those same seats repeatedly throughout the season. The Angels, owned by Arte Moreno, had not made the playoffs since 2014. The franchise was struggling—a 40-61 record left them eleven games behind the division leader and mired at the bottom of the AL West. For many fans, the ownership had become the problem.
Cardinals manager Oliver Marmol had been so taken with the original "tarps off" movement that he had encouraged fans to participate, even offering to buy tickets for those who wanted to join in. The Cardinals had made the cheer famous when their supporters performed it against Kansas City in May. But on this Monday night, it was the Angels who wielded the movement, turning it into a weapon of sorts—a way to will their team to a result that had seemed impossible just hours before.
The victory was real, the streak was broken, and the fans had played a role in it. Whether the "tarps off" movement would continue as a force for change—whether it would translate into wins, into a playoff berth, into the kind of organizational overhaul some supporters were demanding—remained to be seen. For now, the Angels had one more win than they had the day before, and the right-field faithful had proven that even in a season of disappointment, they could still move the needle.
Citations marquantes
Cardinals manager Oliver Marmol encouraged fans to participate in the 'tarps off' movement, even offering to buy tickets for those who wanted to join in.— Oliver Marmol, Cardinals manager