After attending my first Dodger game of the year it's always reassuring to find out that despite the constant price hikes for parking and concessions, some things will never change. Dodger fans will always show up in the third inning and leave in the eighth, the female fans in attendence will always be primarily made up of the ugliest one percent of Los Angeles (this is very similar to the movie Twins, with Lakers fans equating to Arnold Schwarzenegger and Dodgers Fans being Danny Devito) the music will always be terrible, and that I will always hate the Dodgers.
My animosity towards my home team always strikes most people as weird, considering that not only was I born and raised in Los Angeles, but so was my mother. And as for my father, he might as well be a native considering that he moved here from NYC when he was six years old. But despite these entrenched LA roots, one of the few constants throughout my life has been the Weiss clan's passionate hate of all things related to the Los Angeles Dodgers.
The reasons behind this lie shrouded in mystery and myth. Though sources can't verify it, rumor has it that the Weiss clan's hate of the Dodgers stems from
Walter O' Malley's decision to build Dodger Stadium without water fountains, a move that inevitably angered my father and caused him to begin a life-long hate towards the team, a hate that now spans generation.s We Weiss men are many things. Stubborn, yes. Strange...obviously. Contrarian, absolutely. But above all, our chief characteristic is that we hold a grudge when we feel like we aren't getting a good deal. A couple water fountains here, a couple water fountains there, and the Dodgers could've had two of their most die-hard supporters. Instead, they only receive unbridled hate and spite. Its your loss, Los Angeles Dodgers organization. It's your loss. And it all stems from that fateful day in 1957, when the treacherous O' Malley decided to trick his fans into buying vast amounts of soda. That my friends was the water fountain heard round the world.
Accordingly, this loathing of all things Dodger causes me to avoid paying for Dodgers games, figuring that withholding the middling sum that I would contribute to their coffers will inevitably cause financial ruin and damn the Dodgers to playing sub-.500 baseball. This is my logic and I am sticking to it. Nonetheless, there is no sweeter sound to a Jewish man than the word free. That being said, a friend of mine happens to date a singer, one who was slated to sing the National Anthem today. Alas, the Dodgers shifted her singing date at the last minute, leaving her with five tickets, which brought me to Chavez Ravine, to see the twin cavalcade of mediocre music and baseball that only Dodger Stadium can bring.
Every year before I go to the my first game of the season, I tell myself that this will be the year that I turn apathetic and just won't care any more. But every year, I walk through the turnstile, see the palm trees cresting out over the horizon, see the gorgeous emerald green diamond and see those players wearing Dodger Blue and suddenly, my only thought is, "I hope these guys fucking lose. Bad!!"
Indeed, I am a Cincinnati Reds fan, tried and true, having made the decision to like the Reds in a very scientific manner. IE: They were my T-Ball team. People mock me for this, but I think its as good a reason as any, and quite frankly at this point in my life, anything I can do to separate myself from the vast masses of yokels, con artists, and poseurs that abound in this town is a damn good thing. Seinfeld said it best: Ultimately, we root for uniforms.
To my satisfaction, the game was quick and excellent, meaning that the Dodgers made three errors and managed to blow a solid pitching performance from Derek Hughes...I mean Lowe.
Of course, there were several thoughts that crept into my mind during the game, other than my enmity towards the team.
#1: Most Dodger Fans Are Stupid. Very stupid: I'm not sure if it's just that baseball fans in general are dumb, but I don't think that's necessarily the case. I'm been to games in at least a half dozen other cities and the fans there know the difference between an obvious pop fly and a home run. But every time a ball is hit in the air, Dodger fans ooh and aah like the batter just crushed it 450 ft. Learn the difference. It has been my experience that that most Dodger fans come to Dodger games for two things: Dodger Dogs and ice cream. And while both foods are inarguably delicious, there are more interesting things than missing two innings to eat lukewarm hot dogs and runny "so-called" ice cream
Also, when Dodger fans aren't stupid and actually know the game, they are inevitably strange and generally act like escapees from a local mental institution. For example, the guy sitting behind me went on for about 20 minutes about how a Dodger Game specifically caused the downfall of his marriage. I am not making this up. Then he proceeded to reminisce about Fernando Valenzuela. I'm not sure how the two were related, but I imagine this link is something that probably should be addressed in psycho-therapy. Lots of it.
#2: Is it possible for Dodger Games to Play at Least One Song that Isn't Only Played at Sorority Houses?
So I'll admit I liked Jet's "Are You Gonna' Be My Girl?" when it first came out in 2003. Upon a friend's recommendation I even bought the entire album, which was listened to exactly one time to a variety of screams, shouts and curses. But at this point, I've heard that one single about 4,322 times. Stop playing it. There is never a good time to play that song at this point. It is one of those songs like "Hollaback Girl" or even "Hey Ya," that probably should not be played for the next ten years, if ever again. Calling this song played out is doing a disservice to played out songs. This song never had that much life to begin with. Stop squeezing even more life out of it. Playing this song is very similar to Puffy's attempts to wring more out of Biggie's catalogue. It's been over for a long time. Deal with it.
Additionally, if I ever hear "Let's Get It Started in Here," one more time at a sporting event, I might have to start shooting random civilians. This song makes "Hollaback Girl," look like "A Day in the Life." On top of this indignity, they always play the song at the wrong times, like when the Dodger's are down 4-1 in the eigth inning and someone hits a single. A man on first with one out does not make a rally. Learn the fucking difference. Why don't the Dodgers bring back their organist Nancy Bea Heffley. Hopefully, she isn't dead. Though I seem to recall once having heard that she plays the organ during the 7th inning stretch. At any rate, either bring the organ back full time or start playing decent music. I don't need to hear the Tapes N' Tapes album, but how about playing something from the Strokes or Franz Ferdinand. Anything that doesn't involve the name, Fergie, a name that should not be spoken around me unless used in the context of the sentence, "You Know Who I fucking hate...Fergie!"
For all this rambling and anger, there still is nothing like a Dodger game, particularly when they lose and I get the schaudenfreude of watching all of these disconsolate Dodger fans traveling home with downcast faces, while I savor the fact that the Reds are in first place. Times are good. It is May. It is warm. And now that Dodger Stadium has water fountains, not only can I watch the Dodgers lose, but I can quence my thirst while doing so. For free. And somewhere, Walter O' Malley's ghost is shaking his head and saying, "if only...if only."
