Dodgers addiction

Newly arrived Angeleno Neal Pollack writes today at Slate about what happens to your life when you move to your favorite team's hometown. The author had been a long-distance Dodgers fan until relocating to L.A. in January. Recently he got a call from a friend offering four box seats behind the home dugout. He had plans that night; they were broken.

Anyone who's ever taken two 3-year-olds to a baseball game will agree that it's hardly the ideal circumstance. I ended up, as I knew I would, spending the fifth and sixth innings with the kids running around the concession area, roaring, while I pretended to be a bear. But come on! Who cares? It's the Dodgers!

The Dodgers were my team growing up in suburban Phoenix. Those years, 1977 to 1988, were comfortable ones in Dodgerland. We almost always fielded a winning team, went to the playoffs more often than not, and enjoyed Fernandomania. I'd just headed off to college when Kirk Gibson hit his miracle shot to win Game 1 of the 1988 World Series. That homer felt like the ultimate return on a long boyhood of bleeding blue.

[skip]

In addition to the occasional bonus tickets from my friend, I split a 25-game package with a paralegal named Craig who I met on the Dodger Thoughts bulletin board. My seats are in the infield reserve, pretty high up, but they're Section 1, right on home plate, the best that a regular guy can afford more than twice a year.

A few days before the game, I'll contact one lucky friend, telling him or her that I'll cover the ticket and parking if they pay for refreshments. Also, they have to drive, because I like to get stoned before the game. I tell them that they need to pick me up at least 45 minutes before the opening pitch, because unlike many Dodger fans, I refuse to arrive late. And I never miss anything, because I rented my house based on its proximity to Dodger Stadium. It's a 10-minute straight shot down the 2, the breeziest freeway in town.

Pollack writes that he has tickets to tonight's game but won't go stoned because he is taking his son, Elijah. Pollack blogs, mostly about Ejijah, at The Maelstrom. His memoir, Alternadad, will be published in January.

August 10, 2006 5:53 PM • Native Intelligence • Email the editor
 

© 2003-2014   •  About LA Observed  •  Contact the editor
LA Biz Observed
2:07 PM Sat | The funeral for Mark Lacter will be held Sunday, Nov. 24 at 12 noon at Hillside Memorial Park, 6001 W. Centinela Avenue, Los Angeles 90045. Reception to follow.
Native Intelligence
Jon Christensen and Mark Gold | The next time you're stuck in traffic think about this: You're not just part of the problem. You're part of the solution. And not just for LA, but for the world!
Ellen Alperstein | A documentary film opening today in Los Angeles shows a community struggling to understand how a sex abuser terrorized its children and recast its storied college football identity.
Don Shirley | From a theatergoer's point of view, "choices" are almost always more dramatically engaging than unchosen "orientations."
Iris Schneider | There is a lot to learn at the academy's costume exhibit in the old May Company on Wilshire, but after an hour I found myself seeking solace. There must be a way to create a more conducive environment.
Jenny Burman | He preferred the present. But that's not why they were here.
Gary Leonard | Take My Picture Gary Leonard appears weekly at LA Observed.
Bill Boyarsky
One of the most fascinating elections of the year is still going on in the northeast San Fernando Valley. Unknown Patty Lopez is holding a narrow lead over influential Assemblyman Raul Bocanegra.
Jenny Burman
Before I lived in Echo Park, there was a tiny 1920s bungalow-cottage-standalone house on N. Occidental in Silver Lake. I...
Here in Malibu
Yesterday the sun rose: The clouds were pretty nice: Some neighbors paddled: A dog waited: A garage near Point Dume...