Howland is not a glitzy guy. He doesn't talk as fast, or as much, as Carroll. But he has a feel of permanence about him, of competence and consistency. As attention-deficit challenged as it is, Los Angeles also celebrates those who remain long enough to become part of its fabric.

We love Vin Scully. Same with Wooden. Magic Johnson never left us. Nor did Kareem. We can laugh about Tommy Lasorda and his Dodger Blue heaven baloney, but we love that he is still here, dishing it out. We understand, and acknowledge, what part of the Angels' image-growing is square on the shoulders of Mike Scioscia.

Others have left us, but will never be gone. Chick Hearn's verbal magic and Jim Murray's written wonders will be celebrated in Los Angeles as long as there is one sports fan with a memory.

Howland has years to go and mountains to climb before he reaches that status. But he has the right stuff. He is 52, already has 300 wins, and got to within one game of a national title in 2006.