The Wandering Chicken

latimes:

How a city reached its limit with the Dodgers: Los Angeles’ love for the Dodgers was unconditional for four decades. But their grip on L.A. began to slip in 1998, and now their popularity is in free-fall. How did this happen, and can they get it back?
Illustration: Once known as a Dodgers town, the Lakers have become the team of preference in L.A. Credit: Paul Rogers / For The Times

Eight year-old me will always bleed Dodger Blue.
I was a very lucky kid. I grew up regularly going to Chavez Ravine for games with my father, mother and brothers. Sitting in the loge section just up from first base, I shared a transistor radio with my dad so we could hear Vin Scully. Even live, it wasn’t a Dodger game if you couldn’t hear Vin call the play-by-play. My whole life seemed like Dodger Dogs and Carnation Malts.
Since pre-school I had been good childhood friends with Ron Cey’s son. We played little-league together. I even went on a camping trip with him and his dad and got carsick on the way for good measure. I once ate spaghetti with Tommy Lasorda. I remember well The Big Blue Wrecking Crew, reveled in Fernando Mania, and cringed every time Steve Sax threw to first. Oh, and I was in the stands when Kirk Gibson hit his fabled shot.
No matter what happens none of that can be taken away.

How a city reached its limit with the Dodgers: Los Angeles’ love for the Dodgers was unconditional for four decades. But their grip on L.A. began to slip in 1998, and now their popularity is in free-fall. How did this happen, and can they get it back?

Illustration: Once known as a Dodgers town, the Lakers have become the team of preference in L.A. Credit: Paul Rogers / For The Times

Eight year-old me will always bleed Dodger Blue.

I was a very lucky kid. I grew up regularly going to Chavez Ravine for games with my father, mother and brothers. Sitting in the loge section just up from first base, I shared a transistor radio with my dad so we could hear Vin Scully. Even live, it wasn’t a Dodger game if you couldn’t hear Vin call the play-by-play. My whole life seemed like Dodger Dogs and Carnation Malts.

Since pre-school I had been good childhood friends with Ron Cey’s son. We played little-league together. I even went on a camping trip with him and his dad and got carsick on the way for good measure. I once ate spaghetti with Tommy Lasorda. I remember well The Big Blue Wrecking Crew, reveled in Fernando Mania, and cringed every time Steve Sax threw to first. Oh, and I was in the stands when Kirk Gibson hit his fabled shot.

No matter what happens none of that can be taken away.

Source: Los Angeles Times