Earlier this month, I crowed via social media about getting a pair of cheap seats to the Vin Scully Appreciation Game at Dodgers Stadium this coming September and how by not spending $1,400 for field-level butt rests I would have mooooore than enough to get me a customized Dodgers jersey honoring The Greatest Broadcaster Of Aaaaaaall Times who I unabashedly idolize and cherish!
Turns out easier said than done.
But let me back and fill for those who might be entirely and inexplicably clueless. Vincent Edward Scully, 88, has been the Los Angeles Dodgers announcer since they were the Brooklyn Dodgers back in the year Nineteen Hundred and Fifty. Last year, The Beloved Institution That He Is announced his retirement would commence at the end of this his Sixty-Seventh season behind the mic. If that two-digit number doesn’t blow you away, what’s wrong with you!? Sorry, didn’t mean to snap. What I mean is: think on that kind of longevity a little harder. What’s the longest job you’ve ever held? Me, it’s six years. Next, factor in this nebulous and dysfunctional City Of Change that we call home, and how its landmarks have been torn down and built over and torn down again and again forming sedimentary stacks of reinvention rising upon a foundation of disregard for our past. Then mix in the changes the Dodgers as an organization have been through these last 20 years alone? Lastly mix in the fact that most of us came from somewhere else and a lot of us remain unrooted to L.A. as a permanent base.
All the while, there has been Scully. Since the Dodgers moved here in 1958, there has been Scully. Every single year of my old-ass life as a native Angeleno and Dodgers fan: There. Has. Been. Scully. If his landmark status previously eluded you, maybe now you can see how people such as myself have formed such an attachment to this humble extraordinary man — who, incidentally, would be the first to dismiss such adoration. Maybe now you can see how people such as myself are among hundreds of thousands who really can’t fathom our town or its soundwaves without Scully in it. I still can’t fully wrap my head around the idea of his “It’s time for Dodger baseball!” opener at every home game not ringing out next year.
But let’s return now to my original point: the jersey!
Apparently, the recent takesies-backsies of the Los Angeles Dodgers by Major League Baseball has quiet a few suits talking. Their discussions are starting to get interesting. Yahoo Sports takes a look at how the baseball power struggle may help L.A.’s bid for an NFL franchise.
In short, the Dodgers could move to a new baseball stadium downtown on the site of the currently proposed new NFL stadium. A new football facility would go up in place of Dodger Stadium in Chavez Ravine. Stadium swap.
It’s a fascinating idea. Football fans would now be able to tailgate outside a brand new stadium, as opposed to the downtown site. It would also provide an opportunity to correct an injustice done decades ago – a new stadium could be situated to face Downtown Los Angeles instead of turning its back on the heart of the city. The new Dodger Stadium could also boast DTLA as a dramatic backdrop. Baseball would become more a part of the urban fabric of the city.
When news broke that Major League Baseball was assuming day-to-day control of the Los Angeles Dodgers, most of the internet reacted with a sense of “about damn time.”
Local politicians? Well, they’re just flabbergasted. Blindsided by something that none of them ever saw coming during the reign of The McCourts. How could this be? Why is this happening to our beloved boys in blue? We have never had any reason to believe something like this would happen, aside from The Divorce, Manny, gang shenanigans, fan beatings, IRS investigations, and endless seasons of The Great NL West Race to .500. We’re stunned. STUNNED!!!
Perhaps the most ridiculous statement to come out of City Hall yet belongs to Wendy Greuel:
As a lifelong Angeleno and a Dodgers fan, I would hope there would be stability so the Dodgers can focus on winning the World Series.
In a swift response to the March 31st beating of Giants fan Bryan Stow at Dodger Stadium, LAPD chief Charlie Beck has announced that a zero-tolerance policy will go into effect immediately. Starting with the next game. For reals this time.
In the short term, there will be more police officers – paid for by the Dodgers. In the long-term, they plan to “look at technology, observation posts, lighting, environmental studies and increased community outreach.”
Microchips? Armed guards on a wall? I particularly enjoy the “environmental studies.” Can you imagine: After further review, Chavez Ravine is not an appropriate location for a sports venue. Sorry about evicting all the people that lived there.
The New York Yankees followed up today’s $180-million signing of Anaheim’s Mark Teixeira by adding all of the other players from all of the other teams in the country. The 2009 season will now feature an intra-squad schedule of Yankees vs. Yankees, with all home and away games to be held in the new Yankee Stadium.
Immediately following this announcement, all official Major League Baseball retailers announced plans to sell only Yankees-related merchandise, including an immediate 300% price inflation to pay for stadium construction and player salaries.
UPDATE 2:01pm: The Yankees have just sent a request to Congress for a bailout package in the amount of $970-million.
I made my first trip of the season to Dodger Stadium last night and I can’t believe I waited more than a month to get there. I’ve been to many ballparks and Dodger Stadium is my favorite place to see a game. Of course it’s not the first place I saw a big league game, that distinction belongs to Shea Stadium. Those of you who have never had the displeasure of a game at Shea are better off not knowing what you’re missing. But if you must know what Shea is like, imagine a rats nest inside of landfill of burning tires and surrounded by junkyards. Because I didn’t know any better, I loved that dump.
I attended my first game at Shea in 1984, not with my dad but with the patrons of a local bar who had managed to commandeer 30 tickets and a school bus. When the school bus full of grown men pulled up to our house my mom had no problems telling me to get on board. That night there was no score-keeping, no home runs and no catching foul balls. There was lots of drinking, fighting, and one instance of a school bus getting pulled over. At some point that night the Mets played the Expos too; since this was the brief period when Pete Rose was an Expo I got to yell “Pete Rose sucks” repeatedly. My first game and I jeered the guy with more hits than anyone in history. To be fair, I told every Montreal player to fuck off at some point that night as well as many of the Mets, but you have to understand that at ten years old, I had a problem holding my liquor.
When I have a really lousy day there are usually two paths I can take to make things better: baseball or tacos. Today was a bad day. From the moment I woke up this morning I wanted to crawl back into bed and everything that happened reinforced that feeling. From the mirror getting knocked off of my car by a driver who couldn’t gauge the width of his own car, to traffic, and then the work day; it was all just lousy.
Now I don’t have a lot of bad days but if they happen I always hope it’s in the spring or summer because baseball or tacos becomes baseball AND tacos. Today, the baseball part was easy. I left work and the Dodgers were already on radio: step one accomplished. Now to convince my wife to forgo her plans to make a healthy dinner and instead indulge in the wonder that is Los Tacos on Santa Monica Blvd. in West Hollywood. This would take a Little Jedi Mind Trickery on my part.
“Baby you’ve had a tough day. Don’t cook, I’ll go get us some delicious tacos instead.”
Of course she’s too smart for me, because she replies:
“My day was fine. YOU just want tacos.”
“So you don’t want any?”
“I didn’t say that!”
Sure, the Dodgers lost and we stuffed ourselves until we had to make a pact that Los Tacos would be a once-a-month treat (I think I can talk her down to every two weeks). But in the time it took for the Dodgers to give up a few runs and pick up dinner, everything in the world was made right again.