I Love L.A.!

The Los Angeles Dodgers won the National League pennant last night, for the first time since 1988. Clayton Kershaw pitched six strong innings in an elimination game against the defending World Champion Chicago Cubs. (that sentence would sound ridiculous 3 or 4 years ago.)

L.A.'s pennant drought was the second-longest of this year's ten playoff teams; only the Nationals (who have never won a league crown) have waited longer.

Kershaw gets all the accolades but the Dodgers have plenty of other stars, such as rookie slugger Cody Bellinger, third baseman Justin Turner, and last night's hero Enrique "Kike" Hernandez.

As is often the case, the NL playoff games have been my stress relief from the anger and frustration of the AL playoffs. I've cheered for the Cubs sporadically over the past two decades, and it was a strange sight to see Wrigley Field so quiet as Kee-kay and the Dodgers offense kept piling on the runs.

The silence and the one-sided score gave me a lot of time to think (and watch the Devils win an overtime game against Ottawa.) I haven't ever disliked the Dodgers, but I haven't emotionally invested myself in them, either. Part of that is because their games usually start at about 10pm Eastern time, and I don't see many NL West games as a result. The record-setting payroll and roster construction had something to do with it, too.

But this year, I'm returning to my roots. The first year I truly became a baseball fan was 1988, when I was 8 years old. The first World Series game I remember watching from beginning to end was the Kirk Gibson game.

As any Dodger fan will tell you, that '88 team was unique in that it didn't have any true superstars. Orel Hershiser was untouchable that year - and he was the greatest pitcher my eight year-old eyes had ever seen - but there were no Hall of Famers on that squad. Nearly every World Series winner has at least one.

In fact I can hardly remember anyone else on that roster without looking it up. I know Mike Scioscia was the catcher, Mickey Hatcher played third base (I think?) and Steve Sax was at second. I don't even know who pitched on those seemingly rare occasions when Orel didn't.

But last night as all these old memories came flooding back to me I realized that, in some ways, the Dodgers were my first favorite baseball team. The first team hat I ever owned was a Dodgers hat I plucked off a display wall at a five-and-dime type store. I remember examining the logo like "I A? What's I A stand for?" It didn't dawn on me for a while that it was an interlocking L I was looking at.

The first time I visited Cooperstown was in the summer of 1991, for my 11th birthday. Best three days of my life. And the first day, my mom and aunt suggested we pop in to a baseball-themed photography studio. There was this stadium backdrop and you could pose as a baseball player with a glove, or a bat - and the team uniform of your choice.

I chose the Dodgers. I'd scan up the pic but my mom has it in Connecticut, in a stand-up frame on her dresser. Every time I see it I pause and smile. Fun times.

I've never been to Los Angeles (the furthest west I've been is Chicago) but it's on my bucket list. Dodger Stadium is the only classic ballpark I haven't been to, and the City of Angels is home to so many other interesting things and places and people. In fact earlier this week I had to do some research for my collections job when I came across something called "The Grove LA"..what the heck is that? I wondered.

Oooh, perdy. Just like my two favorite women, who happen to be L.A. locals (perhaps they'll show me around the Grove one day...in my dreams.  

I guess you could say I love L.A. even though I've never been there and don't know much about it other than Hollywood, the Dodgers, and what I've heard in rock songs.

I'd love it a lot more if the boys in blue could bring a World Series championship to Chavez Ravine. Maybe Kershaw can be this year's Orel Hershiser.

Maybe injured shortstop Corey Seager can come off the bench and be this year's Kirk Gibson.

And hey, if Seager needs someone to pinch-run for him, maybe he can turn to his manager.

Do it again, Dave. Beat those f#@!ng Yankees.

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