CINDERELLA STORY ANGELS BEAT CURSE, HEAD TO 1ST SERIES.

Byline: STEVE DILBECK

They were swept away, carried to this pinnacle by the unfettered thrill of success, the victory made still sweeter by its being the first.

The Angels, last American League team standing.

After 42 years of anguish and disappointment, of curses and phantoms and broken promises, of being some kind of second-class major-league team, they are going to the World Series.

The Angels, at long last, American League champions.

So when it was over - after yet another mind-numbing victory, after little Adam Kennedy had joined baseball's giants, after they had tied the postseason record for most runs scored in an inning and beaten the Twins 13-5 Sunday afternoon - the Angels understood what they had accomplished, how special their moment seized, exactly what it meant.

``Angel immortality,'' veteran closer Troy Percival said. ``We've done something no other Angels team has ever done. And I don't think we're done yet.''

Percival spoke as Jackie Autry, widow of Gene Autry, poured champagne on his head and down his pants. He puffed gloriously on a stogie. Second baseman Benji Gil roamed the room with an oversize bottle of tequila.

It was as refreshing as it was unsophisticated. After all those years, so many seasons of coming close, they had forever eliminated a phrase from their team bio - the long-suffering Angels.

After the final out, after their celebration on the field, they rushed into the clubhouse for a growingly familiar scene. Plastic sheeting covering their lockers. Champagne exploding. Players hugging each other, team officials, strangers.

And then they came back on the field, wearing those championship T-shirts and caps that appear almost as mysteriously as they do instantly after a title has won.

Already drenched in champagne, a large group of Angels did a victory lap around Edison Field. Raised fists to the heavens. Laughed and yelled and embraced every moment.

The sellout crowd had not dared to leave. They remained a sea of red, still standing, rock music still blaring, everyone seeming to try and hold on to a special time.

Veteran outfielder Tim Salmon, in his 10th season with the Angels but first in the playoffs, appeared from the dugout with the American League championship trophy, held it overhead and did his own victory lap.

When he returned, he searched for another team veteran, finding outfielder Darin Erstad and passing the trophy to him. Players stood on the field, 15 microphones suddenly appearing in delirious faces.

``This is such a great moment for this organization,'' Salmon said. ``You couldn't have scripted a better season for the Angel fans.''

The trophy was in pitcher Jarrod Washburn's hands, in catcher Bengie Molina's, in the grasp of remarkable rookie Francisco Rodriguez, held by trainer Rick Smith, in his 25th season with the Angels.

But never one like this. Never one that saw an Angels team take their one-game-at-a-time approach to such extremes, to such unexplored heights.

The Twins had rallied for the first time in the American League Championship Series, had overcome a 3-2 Anaheim lead with a three-run seventh. A desperate team suddenly given new life.

It would be just another challenge answered, if not for how the Angels responded. With hit after hit. With Kennedy, the Angels' No. 9 hitter, etching his name in the record books next to Babe Ruth and Reggie Jackson.

Kennedy, who had hit only seven home runs in the entire regular season, had already hit two Sunday, when he came up in the bottom of the seventh with two on.

And he promptly crushed a Johan Santana pitch over the wall in right- center. It was completely stunning, an entire ballpark throbbing in near disbelief.

``I was ready to pass out,'' Erstad said. ``I couldn't believe it.

``It seemed like you were in a dream. I was going into the on-deck circle and my knees were shaking.''

Like so many other innings in their season, the Angels were not done. They kept stringing together hits, pushing baserunners, scoring and scoring against four different Minnesota pitchers.

``No matter who we put out there, we couldn't stop them,'' Twins manager Ron Gardenhire said.

By the time the Angels had tied the 1929 Philadelphia A's for most runs scored in a postseason game, the Angels had scored 10 times. They had somehow topped their amazing eight-run inning that polished off the Yankees in the Division Series.

``It was beautiful,'' third baseman Troy Glaus said.

Nothing was going to stop them now, not Dave Henderson, not a single curse, not one unwelcome flashback.

In five games, the Angels had knocked off the Twins. Finally advanced to the World Series that Autry had always longed for. And then dropped their never-too-high, never-too-low approach in a postgame celebration 42 years in the making.

``The sense of achievement the guys feel will stay with them for a lifetime,'' Angels manager Mike Scioscia said. ``That feeling is always going to be special.''

There is still a World Series to be played. And we will live to see the Angels in it. They await the Cardinal-Giants winner in the National League, wait feeling supremely confident.

It's the first time, and there is nothing like it.

CAPTION(S):

4 photos

Photo:

(1 -- 2 -- color) Above, Anaheim's Tim Salmon, left, and Scott Spiezio acknowledge the crowd after the Angels defeated the Twins on Sunday. A record-tying three-homer day by second baseman Adam Kennedy, left, helped lead the Angels into the World Series.

Steven Georges/Staff Photographer

Will Lester/Staff Photographer

(3 -- 4 -- color) Anaheim's Jose Molina and Ramon Ortiz hoist the American League championship trophy after the Angels defeated the Twins on Sunday at Edison Field. At left, The 2002 American League champion Anaheim Angels thank fans after Sunday's victory over the Twins at Edison Field.

Will Lester/Staff Photographer

Gus Ruelas/Staff Photographer