A Fond Farewell to 2010

We've reached the end of the season for the Dodgers and although it's been a year filled with frustration, I do enter the offseason with a tinge of sadness. You see for me, this day -- not Labor Day, not the first day of school, not the start of college football season -- every year marks the unofficial end to summer.

It's one reason I've never attended a season finale at Dodger Stadium. Well, there was one time in the mid-80s. I was just a kid at a baseball game but I remember dour thoughts popping into my head throughout such as: how I was watching the last batting practice of the year, the last national anthem of the year, the last seventh-inning stretch of the year, and then the last out of the year. The finality of a season finale, I discovered that day, was just too much for me to bear.

Add to it the fact that when you are younger, your perception of time is different. Months and years seem to fly by now, but when you are 12, the prospect of waiting out a baseball offseason can be overwhelming.

It's not so bad now. Family, work, and other interests (gasp!) all serve as vital water stations in the marathon I call offseason. So I pace myself and settle into a rhythm. The finish line will get here soon enough.

And so I wax nostalgic today.

Goodbye to the 2010 Dodger baseball season, to the brilliance of Clayton Kershaw and Hong-Chih Kuo, to the volatility of Matt Kemp, to the disaster that was the Dodger bullpen. Farewell to Vin Scully (for now) and to Joe Torre (for good).

This blog, however, isn't going anywhere during the offseason.

So stick around, will ya?

Together, we'll survive the 179 days between now and Opening Day 2011.

Handling the Truth About This Dodger Fan

Reading about Jamie McCourt facing off today against superstar attorney Stephen Susman made me wonder. It made me wonder how I might handle the pressure of being alone on the witness stand, being grilled by Susman.

With inspiration credited to A Few Good Men, here's how I think it might go...


Dodger fan (me): You want to investigate me, roll the dice and take your chances. I eat my Dodger Dogs 300 yards from 25 Dodgers who are trained to crush my morale, so don't think for one second that you can come down here, flash your badge, and make me nervous!

Susman: Did you order the ROAD RED (Angels jersey and wear it to a game at Dodger Stadium)?

Judge Gordon: You don't have to answer that question!

Dodger fan: I'll answer the question!


[to Susman]

Dodger fan: You want answers?


Susman: I think I'm entitled to them.


Dodger fan: You want answers?!


Susman: I WANT THE TRUTH!


Dodger fan: YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!

Son, we live in a town that has two McCourts. And their team has to be supported by fans with deep pockets. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Larry King?!

I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Joe Torre and you curse Don Mattingly. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Manny's defection, while tragic, probably saved the team money. And my Dodger season ticket plan, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, helped save the team from bankruptcy.

You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me in those stands! You need me in the stands!

We purchase items like $15 parking, $12 beers, and $28 Los Doyers t-shirts. We purchase these items as the backbone to a life spent supporting something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps to the poetry of Vin Scully, announcer for the very Dodger team I help support, then questions the manner in which I support it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way.

Otherwise, I suggest you buy a ticket and sit through a Dodger game yourself. Either way, I don't give a (darn) what you think you're entitled to!

Susman: Did you order the ROAD RED (Angels jersey)?!

Dodger fan: I did the job you sent me to do!

[Susman approaches the stand.]

Susman: DID YOU ORDER THE ROAD RED (Angels jersey)?!?!

Dodger fan: YOU'RE (GOSHDARN) RIGHT I DID!!!

Getting Away From it All ... at Dodger Stadium

After a disappointing summer in which Dodger playoff hopes faded with each day, after one week's worth of mind-numbing court proceedings in which the Dodger owner was pitted against his wife, after the respected former Dodger owner issued some scathing remarks towards the current owner, after the venerable manager announced he would step aside and be replaced by someone whom we know little about, after the Dodgers traded away two of their brightest young talents for a 36-year-old pitcher whom they later traded away for a player to be named later, after all this, I desperately needed an escape.

So, I did what I often do in times like this:

I turned to baseball.

That's right. I went to Dodger Stadium to take in a game.

And guess what? It worked.

Sure, the Dodgers were crushed 12-2 by Colorado. But really, it was a meaningless game for Los Angeles. In fact, it might have been the unexpected spring-training feel of the entire day that made it feel like a getaway. Consider:

1) The Dodger starting lineup featured just three players who were projected to be starters at the beginning of the season. The rest of the guys were supposed to be reserves, in the minor leagues, or on other teams: Jamey Carroll, Ryan Theriot, Jay Gibbons, Russ Mitchell, A.J. Ellis, and John Ely.

2) The announced attendance was 40,191, but only a fraction of these ticket purchasers bothered even to show up. This meant getting in and out of the parking lot was a breeze and it meant short concession lines (!), despite the fact that not all concession stands were even open. The freedom to move around unimpeded made me feel like I was in a much smaller, more relaxed venue.

All of which somehow helped to rejuvenate me. Sure, none of the angst-inducing larger issues surrounding the Dodger franchise were resolved Saturday afternoon. In fact, Ely's ineffectiveness as starting pitcher only underscored just one more of the Dodger offseason concerns -- the shallow starting rotation. But that and other issues can wait until at least the offseason.

Because today, Clayton Kershaw pitches.

And today, I choose simply to enjoy the moment.

What's in a Name?

The blinking cursor in the blank white box stared back at me like Don Drysdale in his prime, eyes piercing the narrow space between the bill of his cap and the tip of his glove. I felt exposed and utterly vulnerable. What was I going to name this blog? Time to step out of the batter's box.

"Ump, time please!"

I glanced down to my third-base coach in search for help. What I saw only compounded the pressure I was already feeling, as countless catchy monikers already dotting the Dodger blogging landscape flashed like signs before me: Sons of Steve Garvey, Vin Scully is My Homeboy, Mike Scioscia's Tragic Illness, Dodger Blues, Memories of Kevin Malone, Juan Pierre's Oversized Hat.

Still without a clue, I stepped back into the batter's box. The Big D's next delivery sent me crashing down like a house of baseball cards. Fastball, high and tight. There's nothing subtle about Drysdale, nor with some of the other blog names already out there: Dodger Thoughts, Blue Heaven, Dodger Divorce.

Then it came to me like the gentle waft of grilled Dodger Dogs. A strategy. I picked myself up, dusted myself off and dug back in. As the next pitch was delivered, I dropped the barrel of my bat, squared my body, and laid down a perfect bunt down the third base line. It was more than just a base hit. It was Maury Wills small ball. It was the Dodger Way to play baseball.

***

When I was about 8, I received as a gift a paperback copy of The Dodger Way to Play Baseball, by Al Campanis. How much of it was arrogance versus reality, I'm still not entirely sure. Was there really a Dodger Way to play baseball as opposed to Other Teams' Ways? Regardless, I sensed even as a child that there was a certain mystique about the Dodger organization. A certain pride. A certain tradition.

The title of my blog is an attempt to recall those days when there was no question as to who would be the Dodger manager the following year. Or the following 10. No question who would play third base next season. Or shortstop. Or second base. Or first base. Or who would do the play-by-play for...ever.

A time when there was no need to explicitly lay claim to the city's allegiance. Los Angeles belonged to the Dodgers and the Dodgers to Los Angeles. The Lakers were still a sideshow, the Angels a pesky younger sibling.

But it's not that simple. My blog name is an allusion to the current era of Dodger baseball as well, a period chockful of unfulfilled promises. There was the unfulfilled promise of Mike Piazza's Dodger career. There is the unfulfilled promise of the no-longer youthful Dodger core. And of course, there are the unfulfilled promises of current Dodger ownership.

The McCourts had boldly announced - promised - to renovate and expand Dodger Stadium. Their plans foretold of a state-of-the-art center field promenade that would include restaurants, shops, and a stunning, tree-lined walkway entrance into Dodger Stadium that would be named, appropriately enough, Dodger Way.

And so it goes with the name of this blog, the old inseparable from the new. Because no conversation about today's Dodgers would be complete without referencing their storied past. And no part of the Dodger past can be fully appreciated without using today as comparison.