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
They give you a round bat and they throw you a round ball and they tell you to hit it square.
Willie Stargell
Baseball season has arrived and that brings to my mind springtime and youthful nostalgia. And the late great Willie Stargell, who I believe remains the only man to ever hit a a ball into the parking lot of Dodger Stadium.
Although growing up in L.A. and a Dodgers fan, I couldn’t help but love the great “We Are Family” Pirates team. How could you not like a team with Willie Stargell, Dave Parker, Bill Madlock, Omar Moreno, Mike Easler, Lee Lacy, Dock Ellis, Kent Tekulve and Rennie Stennett? I mean, even their names were cool.
When I was about five, in 1980, I think, the season after they’d won the World Series, my family stayed at the same Chicago hotel as the Pirates, who were visiting for a series with the Cubs. As they boarded the team bus, I hounded them for autographs, even shook Dave Parker’s hand. There are two things I remember most about the encounter. 1) Nearly every guy on the team wore a leather jacket and carried a massive ghetto blaster, and 2) Dave Parker’s cobra belt buckle was bigger than my head.
I wonder what ever became of those autographs.
Source: thingsdeadpeoplesaid
When I got here, two years after my senior year, I’m walking out of the corner clubhouse with Ernie Banks and there’s nobody in the stands, and the feeling I had was unbelievable — walking with Ernie and walking on that grass… I felt like I was walking on air. There was an electricity and an atmosphere that I’d never experienced in my life. Any ballplayer that’s ever played here can tell you about that great atmosphere, and anybody who’s come here to watch a game feels the exact same way.
Ron Santo | On Wrigley Field
My heart goes out to Cubs fans (and fans of great people) upon hearing the news that the heart and soul of the franchise, Ron Santo, passed away last night. Santo was perhaps the city’s most beloved player and the voice of the team for many, many years. I’m sure their pain is similar to that which I felt when Chick Hearn died and left a void behind the Lakers have never been able to fill, nor likely ever will. For non-sports fans it may seem irrational to have such feelings for a particularly player or for an announcer (or in Santo’s case, both), but they’re so tied to our youth, so inextricable from our fond (and sometimes painful) memories, that the sadness at their passing is akin to the loss of a close friend or family member. To me the Lakers were as much Chick Hearn as they were Jerry West, Kareem Abdul-Jabaar and Magic Johnson. He was my link to the club, and I feel his absence every time I watch a game on TV or listen to one on the radio. And so it is with Santo with the Cubs, a man who so embodied the emotions of the team and their fans — passionate, hopeful and underappreciated.
Rest in Peace, Ron Santo. There’s always next year in heaven.
Query: If a team wins the World Series and no one’s around to see it because everyone is watching Monday Night Football, does it count? No? Good, glad to hear it.
Gloves of the World Series | The New York Times Magazine
A collection of photographs by Dan Winters of actual mitts used by players in the World Series. Graig Nettles presumably used that damn glove to snare many a would-be double from Dodgers’ hitters in the late ’70s.
via: thetickr | Old Time Family Baseball
(via thetickr)
Source: imm.io
As a lifelong Dodger fan, the Giants winning the pennant is mostly intolerable. With Dodgertown in such a state of disarray, the only thing a fan has to hold onto is our hated rivals’ history of ineptitude and heartbreak. Even in our darkest moments, we’ve always been able to take comfort in the fact that the Giants have not won the World Series since following the Dodgers west in the 1950s - while the Dodgers have won the title five times in Los Angeles.
There’s still hope, in the form of the Texas Rangers, who spared this Dodger fan from the nightmare scenario - a Yankees-Giants World Series - by shocking the Evil Empire. So - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - “Go Rangers!”
via: frontpages
Source: frontpages
Song for a Dodger Fan on a Night When the Giants Make the World Series
Welcome Home (Sanitarium)
Metallica | from the album Master of Puppets
Remember these two things: play hard and have fun.
Get Well, Tony Gwynn
The baseball playoffs are just underway, and already we’ve witnessed a few remarkable pitching performances - including Roy Halladay’s no-hitter (only the second one in postseason history) and Tim Lincecum’s evisceration of the Braves - as well as a couple of memorable games (like last night’s extra-inning affair between San Francisco and Atlanta).
Unfortunately today, when we should all be reveling in the postseason excitement, news surfaced that the great Tony Gwynn is battling parotid cancer and will soon begin radiation treatment. The article makes little mention of the severity or the likelihood of recovery but Gwynn said:
“They say this is a slow moving but aggressive form of cancer,” Gwynn said. “I’m going to be aggressive and not slow moving in treating this.”
That sounds every bit like the Tony Gwynn I loved as a kid. Growing up in Los Angeles in the late 70s and early 80s as an avid Dodger fan fortunate to attend many, many games at Chavez Ravine, I was lucky enough to watch Gwynn play live several times during his long tenure with the San Diego Padres. He was among the best pure hitters I’ve ever seen and had it not been for the strike-canceled season in the early ’90s, he very possibly would have been the first player to bat .400 in an half-century. As a singles-hitter, he wasn’t flashy and was often overshadowed by the more power-oriented players of his day, but he did the one thing you need to do to help your team score runs better than anybody else: get on base.
Surpassing even his incredible baseball skills was the fact that he seemed a genuinely good guy - hardworking, competitive and always humble. As a fan of a rival division franchise I should have hated Gwynn and cringed every time he reached base (which was pretty much every time he came to the plate against the Dodgers), but he was among my favorite players. He was someone you could look up to and maybe even see yourself in - a guy who wasn’t particularly fast or preternaturally athletic but through hard work and discipline became the very best hitter of his generation.
This is of course distressing news and my heart goes out to Gwynn, his family, and his legion of fans. But I’ve witnessed the drive and determination of this man, and fully expect him to beat this insidious disease. Get well, Tony.
To view the full article on Fanhouse, click here.
