‘Tis the winter of our discontent. I presume Bill Shakespeare wasn’t thinking baseball when he wrote that line, but he could easily have been speaking for Dodger fans everywhere in 2010. ‘Tis true Los Angeles, the San Francisco Giants are World Series champions. I would have paused to let that line sink in, but I think somewhere Tommy Lasorda just choked on his chicken piccata. Boy, the big Dodger in the sky is going to be pissed. Legions of Blue Crew supporters everywhere are covering up with purple and gold to avoid embarrassment. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out Vin Scully just punched a hole in the wall at the thought of it.
While LA Dodgers fans everywhere cling to their lasting memories of 1988, even more tightly than Rick Astley and Terence Trent D’Arby, the lasting hope that the Hated Ones would recreate the Hindenburg disaster on a baseball field one more time was extinguished. Yep, she IS gone (Sorry, Vinny). This time the Earth didn’t swallow up Game 1. There were no chemically enhanced Leviathan Bash Brothers to turn the Giants into miniatures. Dusty Baker wasn’t around to help his old club out with mind-boggling pitching changes or bat-boy obstacles. Not a Spiezio to be found.
The Giants won the pennant AND the World Series this time. If Russ Hodges were around, he’d probably burst into flames. The truth of the matter is that the Dodgers and Giants franchises have now won a total of 6 championships apiece. It’s enough to give John Candeleria, “The Candy Man,” a bitter taste in his mouth. In the past, if an argument broke out between fans of the two teams (not exactly “Meet the Press” material), it would often be settled by the blue-clad fans, in a Dodger-dog induced haze, rhetorically asking when the Giants last won a World title. Now that line of thought is as outdated as Bruce Bochy’s ‘stache.
Prior to San Francisco’s giving credence to the maxim that everything is bigger in Texas (including ERA), the memories of the team’s previous Fall Classic triumph were as grainy as the footage of The Catch. Not to mention that the franchise also won a baseball title on Merkel’s Boner (not be confused with the art-house flick by the same name, which unfortunately has nothing to do with baseball). The G-Men (again, we’re talking baseball here) will be flying a championship banner for the first time since Khrushchev pounded his shoe on a table. That fact has to stink worse for Dodgers fans than a day spent by the Wharf. It’s a reality that eclipses all the battery throwing, “beat LA” chanting, and Barry Bonds pirouettes combined.
Dodgers-Giants games at Chavez Ravine have already been on the order of yard time at cell block D. Well, after the chest-puffing and invective following a Bay Bridge bonanza, rivalry games at Dodger Stadium are likely to resemble a scene plucked straight out of an episode of “Oz,” just slightly fewer hairnets. There aren’t enough highlights of Mike Piazza sending the 103-win Giants crying to their Rice-a-Roni back in ’93. No myriad replays of Steve Finley grand slam back in 2004 can alleviate the side effects of nausea, hallucinations, loud utterances of profanities, and a Jonathan Broxton-sized headache that a title in San Francisco will cause Dodgers fans (though these symptoms also coincide with a copious intake of stadium food).
While a very meticulously planned and Bravo-inspired party winds its way down Lombard Street, the mere sight of black and orange on the streets of Los Angeles has to make baseball fans in the city stiffen like the starch in Frank McCourt’s collared shirt. After all, October victories in these parts have been as rare as a spotted Jay Howell. The intrigue of late has not been on a baseball diamond but, rather, on Jamie’s jewels. Sure, Mrs. McCourt has her share of swimming pools, but what’s the need when LA’s hometown nine has proven it is entirely possible to sink on dry land.
Fall gives way to winter, and the baseball season becomes a distant but painful memory for Los Angelenos, many of whom are giving amnesia a try. Scores of youngsters begin counting the days until Jolly Old Saint Nick makes his annual appearance. Eventually they will find out that their rotund hero is just some guy looking for an extra pay stub. In much the same fashion, wait until March when Los Angeles fans are subjected to the same disappointment when they realize that their left fielder is just Jay Gibbons dressed in a Dodgers jersey.
Danny Lee has been involved in sports media for over seven years … While at UCLA, he turned his grade school doodles into a position with the Daily Bruin, and continues his diatribes to this day.
