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. . . AND DODGERS!
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Being Mr. In-Between
isn't all bad for Bucky
of TheColumnists.com
What are you doing rooting for both teams to win?
Having a grand time.
Talk about no pressure. Pull for your old team, the New York Mets, on their recent visit to Dodger Stadium on April 29. Cheer on the home team while you’re at it. You’ve been in Los Angeles a fews years now. Get used to it.
The Mets win 6-1. Great. The Dodgers are still in first place. Super. Relax and enjoy the result.
Complicated? Nah. The organist even makes it easy during the seventh-inning stretch with two takes of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” First rendition, it’s “Let me root, root, root for the Dodgers.” Second go-round, it’s “root for the Mets.”
This has been the tune for many transplanted New Yorkers for four decades in Los Angeles. Heck, the Dodgers called Brooklyn home until moving west in 1958. The Mets filled New York’s National League void in 1962.
If teams can move, so can fans. Not that you forget your first love, the Mets. You grew up suffering through their first seven sorry seasons. You remember one Banner Day in 1965 at Shea Stadium and that hilarious “Break Up The Mets” painted on a big sheet. You know redemption, which came with 1969’s amazing run. You were so nervous during the playoffs against Atlanta, you turned off the radio while Jerry Koosman dealt with Hank Aaron. The Mets won it all and did it again in 1986. They’re your team for life.
Then came your own move to Los Angeles. Vin Scully every night calling the game on TV. Dodger blue and that red number, the perfect uniform combination. Dodger Stadium’s organist playing show tunes from “Oliver!” that maybe five people in the place recognize. It all adds up to old school and refreshing.
Then comes April 29. The Mets come to town with a mediocre record. They’re trudging through a sloppy era, the kind that got them messy in the late ’70s and mid-’90s. That’s the frustration of following this team. Some teams have a clean knack. The Red Sox and Cardinals might land in crud one season, but they wash themselves fast. The Mets are capable of long mud marches.
But they’re still your old team. So you find yourself in the upper deck of Dodger Stadium yelling along with other New York fans that old standard, “Let’s go Mets.” You urge on that goggle-sporting first baseman Jason Phillips and his .100-whatever batting average. You love it when Karim Garcia parks one into the right-field bleachers for a 3-0 lead--and later makes a running catch in right and spikes the ball in defiance. The Mets can use such scorn.
Then again, you’re into your new team. Paul Lo Duca and his .400-whatever average. Milton Bradley’s spark in center field; he got fired in Cleveland for cold effort, yet he’s been all heat since landing in L.A.
And when Mike Piazza comes up to bat, you boo him along with 30,000 other Dodgerites still ticked over his leaving Los Angeles six years ago. Bandwagons can be a ball to jump on mindlessly.
Then comes a situation you’ll forever remember as clearly as that Banner Day 39 years ago.
Call this one Murderers No. The Mets put runners on the corners in the eighth. Up steps Danny Garcia, hitting .000. As in no hits. The Dodger pitching coach jogs to the mound for a conference. My cousin next to me says, “The guy’s hitting zero. How complicated can this be?” Evidently very. Garcia singles in a run.
Still runners on the corners. Up steps Mike Stanton, hitting .000. This time no conference. That doesn’t work either. Stanton singles in another run. You read the next day that it’s Stanton’s first hit in four years. OK, he’s a relief pitcher. Then again, he’s hitting .444 lifetime. Should’ve had another conference.
So the Mets win. The Dodgers stay atop the standings. You make it out of the packed parking lot. And look forward to your new team’s visit to your old team in late August. Might be worth a visit.
©2004 by Bucky Fox. The
illustrations are from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco
Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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