Ultimate Baseball Road Trip (121 page)

The 1970s were also kind to the Blue Crew, as no Dodgers team in the decade posted a divisional finish lower than third place. Though the Dodgers would lose in the World Series three times (to Oakland in ’74, and to the Yankees in ’77 and ’78), those teams had some of the most memorable players to ever wear the Blue. Tommy Lasorda took over as manager in 1976, a post he would remain at as a fixture until moving up to the front office in 1997. Lasorda’s lifetime record in twenty-one seasons as manager was 1,599 wins and 1,439 losses, for a .526 winning percentage. Outfielder Dusty Baker wore Dodger Blue in the 1970s and would later square off against 1980s Dodger catcher Mike Scioscia as opposing managers in the 2002 World Series that pitted two other California teams—Baker’s Giants and Scioscia’s Angels—against one another.

Four dynamic infielders were the heart and soul of the next Dodgers championship team. Consisting of Ron Cey at third base, second bagger Davey Lopes, shortstop Bill Russell, and Steve Garvey at first, this infield stayed intact until 1981 when the team won the World Series. Fans responded well to these exciting players by showing up at Chavez Ravine in huge numbers, and Dodger Stadium became the first ballpark to surpass the three-million mark in attendance, in 1978, then did it again in 1980.

While the infield was stellar, dominant pitching also played a hand in bringing a championship back to L.A. On Opening Day of the 1981 season “Fernandomania” began to sweep across Dodgerland when Mexican rookie Fernando Valenzuela shut out the Astros 2-0. The twenty-year-old sensation pitched four shutouts in his first five starts that April. Not only did he begin the season 5-0 with a 0.20 ERA, but he batted .438 in the month. Fernando’s famous windup, where he would look to the heavens, perhaps for help from above from the angelic namesakes of the city, in addition to his sparkling smile and personality, helped Fernandomania go nationwide. Valenzuela went on to capture not only Rookie of the Year honors, but also the Cy Young Award in that strike-shortened season. After the Dodgers dropped the first two games to the Yankees in the 1981 World Series, Valenzuela took the hill in Game 3. Though the rookie gave up nine hits and seven walks, he hung on for a 5-4 win, fueled by a three-run dinger by Cey in the first. The win gave the Dodgers the new life that Lasorda wanted, and the Blue Crew never looked back. Game 5 at Dodger Stadium would prove critical as the Series was deadlocked at two games apiece. The game was tied 1-1 heading into the bottom of the fourth when Yankee manager Bob Lemon decided to pinch-hit for his ace, Tommy John (a former Dodger)—a decision that proved catastrophic. The Yankees failed to score in the inning, and John, who had been brilliant as the Game 2 winner, was suddenly on the bench. His replacement on the mound was George Frazier, and the Dodgers’ Pedro Guerrero treated him the same way Muhammad Ali treated Joe Frazier, by clobbering him for five RBIs. The Dodgers went on to win the series four games to two, after having dropped the first two games. Coincidentally, this was the same trick the Yankees had pulled on the Dodgers the last time the teams met in the World Series, in 1978.

Valenzuela was still with the Dodgers in 1988 when they returned to the World Series, but by this time he was the “old shoe” of the rotation, something that every pitching staff needs. A young Orel Hershiser had assumed the mantle of ace, and pitched fifty-nine scoreless innings during the regular season on his way to the Cy Young before being named MVP of the World Series. Tommy Lasorda dubbed him “the Bulldog” in an effort to make him appear more intimidating than his mild-mannered personality projected.

With Dodger history being so rich, the moment voted by L.A. fans as the greatest in Los Angeles sports history came in Game 1 of the World Series, on October 15, 1988. Pinch-hitter Kirk Gibson hobbled up to the plate looking aged and injured, yet still somehow got enough meat on a Dennis Eckersley pitch to lift it into the Pavilion seats in right field and propel the Dodgers over the Oakland A’s. Gibson’s only at-bat of the Series gave the Dodgers the momentum they needed and they won the Series in five games.

In 2004, Frank McCourt (no, not the guy who wrote
Angela’s Ashes,
the Boston real estate developer who tried first to buy the Red Sox) bought the Dodgers from Rupert Murdoch’s NewsCorp for $430 million. The McCourt ownership of Dodger Stadium resulted in nothing but tumult and appeared to be coming to an end as we wrote this new edition to the book in 2011. At the time, the Dodgers had just filed for bankruptcy and MLB Commissioner Bud Selig and Co. appeared to have the upper hand in the effort to oust the financially ruinous McCourt from the game. Nonetheless, Dodger Stadium saw many changes during the McCourt era and not all of them were bad ones. A year before his arrival, 2003 brought DodgerVision—a new video screen and scoreboard that was once the largest in all of
baseball at twenty-six feet six inches high and forty-six feet six inches wide, but has since been surpassed by the boards in Houston, Kansas City, and the Bronx.

Josh:
Nice to see Kansas City lead the big leagues in something other than barbecue.

Kevin:
Ouch.

Next, the Dodgers replaced every seat in the primary seating bowl in the original, now iconic, Dodger Stadium color palette: yellow for level one, orange for level two, turquoise green for level three, and, sky blue for level four. This phase of renovation also included repair work on the concrete structure supporting the seating bowl area and the introduction of Baseline Box seats complete with little tables. In 2008, a multi-million-dollar Field Level restoration project was completed that widened the concourses, added concession stands and restrooms, and installed two new clubs for Baseline Box seat season-ticket holders only. Thinking not blue but green, the Dodgers made additional improvements to Dodger Stadium to make the ballpark more environmentally friendly. A stadium-wide cooling system keeps the temperature in all the concession areas comfortable. Hand dryers and waterless urinals stand in the restrooms to save water and energy. And the team installed a new energy-efficient lighting system, designed to eliminate unnecessary light outside of the stadium and keep unnecessary light out of the eyes of the players and fans. We say a little extra light on the parking lot outside also wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

In 2008, McCourt announced a $500 million renovation of Dodger Stadium to make the location a year-round destination that would include a Dodger History Museum, a landscaped plaza behind centerfield complete with restaurants and shops, and of course, plenty of parking. The City Council of L.A. gave the area its own zip code, 90090, and the official new name of Dodgertown.

Kevin:
We like to call it Dodgertown, USA, 90090.

Josh:
Will Tori Spelling and Shannen Doherty be coming?

Kevin:
Um. Maybe.

We joke, but the need to bring Dodger Stadium up to par with the ballparks recently built and into the twenty-first century was a priority for McCourt. But the bitter divorce of McCourt and his wife, Jamie, who was vice chairman, CEO, and president of the Dodgers organization, combined with a sluggish economy, put this round of renovations on hold. When it came to light that McCourt was using Dodger Stadium as collateral to borrow more and more money, Bud Selig seized control of the Dodgers on April 20, 2011, and appointed a representative to oversee day-to-day operations of the club. This event occurred shortly after a
Los Angeles Times
article revealed McCourt had taken a personal loan from Fox News Corp. to make payroll for April and May 2011.

Josh:
See, I told you they shouldn’t have given Manny Ramirez all that money.

Kevin:
I believe your exact words were, “Manny will ruin that team.”

So, as you might suspect, this is all a pretty far departure from the days of Dodger yore, down on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn. If we all remember, those Dodgers were a hard luck bunch, who could never seem to beat the Yankees. There is, perhaps, no more profound turning point in the history of baseball in New York than 1958, when the Brooklyn Dodgers, along with the New York Giants, decided to pull up stakes and head west. For the cities of Los Angeles and San Francisco it was a dream come true: Two of the most successful and storied franchises in baseball were coming to play in their towns. And a fierce baseball rivalry continued, further fueled by the Southern versus Northern California feud already in place.

Back East, the Dodgers leaving Brooklyn completely crushed the city. Brooklyners have always had a proud, separate identity from other New Yorkers. And whether it was the fact that the move coincided with the economic downturn in the city at the time, or because the Dodgers were such a symbol of that separate and proud identity, two things were certain: The Dodgers were gone forever and Brooklyn would never be the same.

New York Mets fans, whose ranks were initially supposed to consist of ex-Dodgers and ex-Giants faithful, to this day despise both these teams for abandoning New York. It’s odd, because most living Mets fans saw neither the Dodgers nor Giants play in Brooklyn or Manhattan, respectively. Ah, well, baseball loyalties run very deep, especially in a town as rich in baseball history as New York.

Baseball had been played professionally in Brooklyn since 1849. The team that began playing in the early 1890s eventually emerged as the most prominent team in the area. The official name of the club was originally the “Brooklyn Baseball Club.” But that name was lengthy, and didn’t have much pizzazz. The club played under such nicknames as the Brooklyn Bridegrooms (because seven players got married at nearly the same time) as well as Hanlon’s Superbas, Ward’s Wonders, Fout’s Fillies, and the Robins, all after successful managers.

Though the original home of the ballclub had been Washington Park, it was at Eastern Park where the name “Trolley Dodgers” came about because fans had to cross over
a maze of trolley lines to reach the field. Though the Brooklyn club continued to be called a variety of names, the Dodgers name slowly gained popularity and eventually won out.

A small wooden facility had been constructed at Washington Park and so the team returned in 1898. Washington Park, located at 3rd Avenue, between 1st and 3rd Streets in Red Hook, was built on the approximate location of George Washington’s headquarters while the Continental Army fought the Battle of Long Island. The Dodgers won a few national battles of their own, securing NL titles in 1899 and 1900 behind such stars as “Wee” Willie Keeler and “Brickyard” Kennedy.

In 1912 team owner Charles Ebbets started buying up property in the Flatbush area of Brooklyn where he would build his team a new ballpark. The area was known less than affectionately as “Pigtown” because swine roamed freely through the nearby dumps looking for food. It was a nicely poetic expression that symbolized the Brooklyn Dodgers who would eventually reside there. The Dodgers’ reputation as the working man’s team would remain with them as long as they stayed in Brooklyn.

Ebbets bought many parcels of property and eventually had to sell off half his interest in the team to raise funds to build the new park. But it was worth it. Ebbets Field opened in 1913 and closed in 1947—only thirty-four short years—but no other ballpark has had as great an impact on our National Pastime and its new stadiums to follow. At least one aspect of the mythical ballpark has shown up in practically every new park built during the recent retro renaissance. Ebbets Field still floats ethereally in the minds of baseball fans, like the ancient walled city of Troy—a place where many great battles were fought, some won and some lost. A place that is no more.

The clearest image etched in the minds of folks who never attended a game at Ebbets Field is of the majestic front rotunda. Located at 55 Sullivan Place, the rounded front entranceway featured grand arches and square windows and fit seamlessly into the landscape of Brooklyn, a borough with more than its share of churches. Inside, the rotunda was decorated in Italian marble, with a floor tiled with baseball stitching as decoration. Hanging from the twenty-seven-foot-high domed ceiling was a chandelier made of baseball globes and bat arms. Ball fans came to worship at Ebbets and plopped down their money at beautifully gilded ticket windows.

Although Ebbets Field had these high-class elements, what made it special was that it was bursting with the local personality of Brooklyn. Brooklynites were not Giants fans. They didn’t socialize in the finer places that Manhattan had to offer. Brooklyn was working-class. Dodger fans drank in the beer halls and went to the game to blow off steam and root for “dem bums.” They weren’t the highfalutin fans of the pinstriped teams across the rivers. Ebbets Field reflected the fans’ personality. Ebbets was a crazy place, where the feeling that just about anything was liable to happen was justified almost nightly. The right-field wall was concaved, accounting for an estimated 289 different angles that sent shots bouncing off in thousands of different directions. To make matters more difficult for outfielders, a giant scoreboard jutted out of the stands at a forty-five-degree angle in center field.

The ballpark opened without a press box but one was added in 1929, hanging from the roof. Added in 1931 was a double-decked outfield grandstand, which effectively turned the ballpark from a pitcher’s park into a hitter’s park, enclosing all but the right-field wall and increasing the seating capacity to thirty-two thousand. The roof above the upper deck actually hung over the field of play. But the ballpark’s quirks were beloved at the time and made the park feel all the more homey to fans.

Ebbets Field was a magical place to watch a game, a cozy little ballpark where fans were right on top of the action. This closeness endeared the Dodgers to their fans, and made life miserable for opposing teams. One remarkable fan was Hilda Chester, who incessantly clanged her cowbell from the second deck of the left-field bleachers, often to the dismay of even Dodger fans. “Shorty’s Sym-Phony Band” kept spirits lively with a cacophonous barrage of tunes, though many folks felt they couldn’t find the tune they were playing to save their lives. And there were many other super-fans who frequented Ebbets—home to the notoriously rowdiest fans in all of baseball.