As I watch the Dodgers play the Astros tonight I am thinking
back on my history with the game, primarily as a spectator. I didn’t pay much attention
to baseball as a young kid. My dad would watch the occasional Dodger game as
well as the playoffs and World Series but I have no recollection of them until
1977 when the Dodgers played the Yanks for the championship. The earliest
mention of baseball that I remember was during a Cub Scout meeting in 1973 when
my dad and Chris R were discussing the World Series between Oakland and the
Mets. Both of them said they were rooting for the Mets. Ultimately to no avail.
Probably earlier that year Chris told us about an Angel game his folks took him
to where he saw President Nixon.
Oddly enough, a math teacher was responsible for instilling
my rabid interest beginning in the 1978 season. Mr. Mauger told us how they
figured our batting averages and that .300 was considered good. I had never
really thought about it before and began checking out the Dodger box scores in
the L.A. Times. That led me to start watching and listening to games. This was,
of course, during the days of the longtime Dodger infield of Garvey, Lopes,
Russell and Cey. I followed them as well as Reggie Smith, Dusty Baker and the
pitchers Don Sutton, Bert Hooten, Bill Welch et al.
By high school I was totally on board as a fan, although
oddly enough I went to more Angel games than Dodger games. I may to this day
have seen the Angels live more often than the Dodgers. This is because Rob and
his family were and are major Angel fans and they took me to a bunch of games.
I recall the 1979 season in particular when Don Baylor drove in something like
130 runs and the Angels made it to the division playoffs. It was a fun year.
Rob’s grandpa took us often. I think he had been following them from the
beginning. He was always concerned that someone was going to spill their beer
on him…either a fan or a vendor. I even got to go with him when I was back for
a visit while we were living in Hawaii. As mentioned in an earlier post, he
helped get me on a flight to Hawaii after graduation. This time I remember him
asking if I thought we were going to put down roots on the island. I sensed
that he was missing Rob quite a bit.
However, all three of us (me, Rob and Eric) did go to a
couple Dodger games. Eric’s dad took us to one and there was this really
annoying guy in the stands who had the loudest unamplified voice I have ever
heard. He kept yelling at the Dodger hitters “C’mon Cey this isn’t batting practice!”
“C’mon Garvey, this isn’t batting practice!” People were yelling at him to “shut
up!” but he just said “No! Huhuhuhuh!” I hate drunk assholes. We also got ice
cream sandwiches and Rob got a Dodger Dog which has a fair bit of the hot dog
sticking out of the bun. Eric and I kept teasing him as he tried to take the
first bite. Pretty childish, but at least we weren’t yelling.
My mom let me stay home “sick” from school on opening day of
1981 so I could listen to what was an afternoon game between the Dodgers and
Astros. It turned out to be Fernando Valenzuela’s first start and he pitched a complete game shutout and they won 5-0. There was unfortunately a strike that year
so there was no play in the middle of the summer. Happily, the Dodgers ended up
beating the Yankees in the World Series and Valenzuela took both the Cy Young
and Rookie of the Year awards.
My only experience actually playing was with a literal
sandlot game that Rob, Eric and I and later Eric’s brother Kurt developed. It
involved souvenir bats and tennis balls and was a strictly one-on-one game. We
got fairly elaborate with it keeping stats and instituting playoffs and a
championship. It was pretty damn fun and one of those unconscious creative forms
of play that I think are better than organized sports. I’d play it again today.
We played using a wing of a local elementary school as a backstop, occasionally
getting booted by administrators who thought an intermittent tennis ball
against the wall would cause the structure to collapse or something. Just
another example of the man trying to keep us down! Naw, but it was pretty
stupid.
By the 1988 season I was living in Sacramento and that was
of course just an amazing year for the Dodgers. Gibson and Hersheiser…need I
saw more? I was watching “the game” (first WS game against Oakland) in my
little studio apartment. I was on my knees in front of the tv by the time
Gibson came up for his pinch hit. When he hit that home run to win the game I
jumped up with my fist in the air and hit my knuckles on the ceiling . . .not
even noticing the pain. It was just one of those few amazing sports moments
that one gets to see once or twice in a lifetime. Later that year I paid
tribute to Gibson’s fist pump while performing in a production of Gilbert and
Sullivan’s The Gondoliers.
After that I lost some interest in baseball due to a more
intense focus on school, especially as a graduate, and then with the 1994
strike. I sort of followed for the next 17-18 years but not much during the
regular season. I did enjoy seeing the Angels win the World Series in 2002, but
it wasn’t until 2012 (now) that I began to watch games with any sort of
regularity. And thus far the Dodgers are doing great, first place with a seven
game lead on May 26th.
