World Series (again)

This blog isn’t much of a reflection of what’s going on in my life, or for that matter what’s important to me. These days it’s mostly a space to write about music once a week. And while music is important to me, there are other things that occupy most of my daily life——namely, my family and my job.

And then there’s baseball. From April to October I watch a lot of Dodger baseball. When I can’t watch, I listen on the radio or follow along on my phone. It’s a rare Dodgers’ game that goes by where I haven’t participated in at least an inning or two of it.

Baseball is one of those things that balances out the bad stuff in life. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about (read about, talk about, learn about, teach about) the current war against Latinx migrants and families. Not a day goes by that I’m not equally involved in the consequences of a racist, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic regime ruling this country.  Baseball is my relief from those horrid reminders of the shortcomings of the human species. It’s my escape and my positive connection to those same flawed humans, my community of fellow fans.

I know it’s “just” baseball. That said, it never fails to amaze me how much a bunch of grown men playing a kid’s game can affect me, both positively and negatively. It’s also an excuse for me to work on perspective. After all, if winning the World Series is the goal of every team every year, 29 of us are going to come up short.  It’s been 30 years since we’ve won a series.  We’re getting good at perspective.

So you learn to appreciate the steps along the way.  I love a good game.  I love it when the Dodgers win.  I love it when the players I like turn in amazing days at their jobs.  I enjoy talking about baseball with other Dodgers’ fans.   At the end of the day, it’s the little things.

Of course, I care about the big things, too.  I often say baseball is one of those sports where, at the end of the season, you get to see who the best teams are.  We play 162 games.  I think the teams sitting on top of each division and each league at the end of that road have something to be proud of.  They’re the best.  I’m fortunate that the team I love has won the Western Division for six years running.  It’s a great achievement, one that I can use to console myself since being the best is different than being successful during the playoffs.

Playoff baseball is a different beast than the regular season. The best team doesn’t always win. It’s not about being the best——it’s about being the best on the field that day.  Sure, better teams have an advantage.  But it’s way more complicated than that.

The Dodgers are about to play in their 20th World Series competition in their storied history. Our very first was in 1916 against the Boston Red Sox. (At that time we were the Brooklyn Robins.) We lost that one, as we did the next six we played in. The Brooklyn Dodgers would lose 7 World Series before winning their first and only title in 1955. The next year they’d get there again, but lose. That’s a 1-8 record.
(Six of those losses were against one team——the New York Yankees. So was their only victory.  Perspective.)

We’ve won five World Series since moving to Los Angeles. We’ve been in the Series another 5 times and lost. That’s a 5-5 record for us. Not bad. And I know I’m lucky to have a team that’s made it to the big show for two years running. We’re back-to-back National League Champions. That’s nothing to sneeze at. Of course, I still want the Dodgers to win it all.

Last year I was confident but also pretty realistic. Houston was playing at their best for much of the playoffs and they had momentum. The Dodgers were a better team, but even with their massive winning streak and killer winning percentage for a chunk of the season, they were still a tricky bunch. After all, this was a team that went on a 1-16 losing streak. Needless to say, I was hopeful they’d win game 7 last year but I was emotionally prepared if they did not. Perspective.

This year is different. The Dodgers are not as good a team as Boston. Boston is better by almost any measure that matters. And while the Dodgers have some degree of last year’s weaknesses, they are a much more seasoned group of guys. Perspective matters there, too. And then there’s our offense, which only matters when it does, and it often does.

Over the next week, I’m going to be really happy and really stressed and really sad, just not all at the same time or in the same measure. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the achievements——the sixth in a row Western Division title and the back-to-back National League titles. Whatever happens, I’m lucky to be a fan of one of the last two teams playing ball right now. And I’m prepared for whatever may come.

Especially if that’s a World Series title.

The NY Times nos da Asco

I can’t tell you what a sublime and historic moment it is for the NY Times to have a full-length article on the Chicano artistic troupe “Asco.”

Founded in 1972, in the era of the Chicano Youth Movement, Asco were pioneers in the Chicano arts movement, founders (with others) of an evolving collective aesthetic and sensibility which is still young in its lifespan.  As this article explains, and their upcoming show at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art demonstrates, they were also important players in the late-20th century urban arts movement in the US.

You can read the NY Times article here.  Their retrospective show–“Asco: Elite of the Obscure, a Retrospective, 1972-1987″–opens at LACMA on September 4th.

But I thought you were a Dodgers fan

Since I was a kid, my priorities for a baseball season have been rather simple: I wanted the Dodgers to win the World Series. But I knew such an event was rare, thereby defining it’s value. And so, if it could not be, I wanted the Dodgers to at least win the NCLS, and if they couldn’t do that, to at least win the NL West.

When they failed to achieve even this last of achievements, all hope was not lost. I would still consider it an overall “win” if they would just beat the Giants.

Well, the 2010 Major League Baseball season has come to a close. Not only didn’t the Dodgers achieve any of the titular milestones I covet for them year after year, and not only did they lose 10 of 18 games to the Giants, but the San Francisco Giants have won the 2010 World Series.

And here’s a little secret: I was rooting for them.

Some of my friends might be mystified by such a decision on my part. After all, the rivalry between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the San Francisco Giants is one of the more legendary in sports history, surviving more than 100 years and a move to the West Coast. Any real Dodgers fan is obligated to hate them with every fiber of their being, and I am among the “blue at heart.”

Where did I go wrong?

Well, first of all, I have a history in the Bay Area. I lived there for 8 years of my life, and I have many friends there—many of whom are Giants fans. The San Francisco Bay Area is celebrating tonight, as are many of the people I know and love, and having been there before, I know part of what they are feeling. I can only imagine what it feels like to be part of your city’s “first time” and so I am happy for them, for that, and as a lover of the region, I am happy for the city.

But that’s only part of the story.

When it comes down to it, I am also a National League man. Even though I would have been okay with Texas winning, more of me wants an American League team to lose to a National League team, no matter who the teams are. I even have a connection to Ranger’s infielder Mike Young. He went to my high school. One of my very good friends is very good friends with his wife. I was at the first two games of his professional career, saw his first at bat, and his first hit. Even with all this, I still wanted his Rangers to lose more than I wanted them to win.

One of the other things that excited me was that the San Francisco Giants weren’t the best team in baseball this year. I don’t mean that as a dig, I really don’t. I don’t think the Dodgers were the best team in 1981 or in 1988. But you see, I don’t think the team with the most talent or the most talented players wins every year–or even should.

For me, the beauty of baseball is the intangible spirit of a team. There is a momentum that can build when a group of individuals play bigger than the sum of their parts, when they become a single whole. Not everyone agrees with my view; and certainly, this isn’t always the case. But I always find it enjoyable to watch it when it happens. It’s like proving gravity doesn’t always exist and then taking comfort in the security of knowing the world is as it should be.

All these reasons, though, are still only part of the story. Tonight I am also happy because the rivalry I love so much just got a big boost.

While I am severe in my allegiance to “the rivalry” (I don’t even go to Dodgers vs. Giants games because SF splits the gate with my boys and I will be damned if I’m going to give an of my money to that organization), my sports has never gotten in the way of my friendships. In a way, sports isn’t as much fun without those friends of yours who love the “other guys” as much as you hate them.

And that puts a lot of my feeling tonight into perspective. You see, for most of my life, Dodgers fans have taken a great deal of satisfaction from “the rivalry.” And why not? It’s something we’ve been rather good at. But satisfaction isn’t passion.

When it comes down to it, most of LA doesn’t care as much about the Giants as the folks of the Bay Area care about us. We’ve gotten sloppy in our investment in the rivalry, I think, because it no longer seems like much of a fight.

Partly, this is about numbers. This season’s losses do little to the already robust lead the Dodgers enjoy in the historic totals. The Giants have beaten the Dodgers more times when all of their contests (since 1884 and under various team names) are counted, but in the modern era of the rivalry (since the move West in 1958), the Dodgers come out on top with 478 wins and 449 losses against SF.

The Dodgers also dominate the rivalry on a season-by-season basis. From the 1958 season to the present, the Dodgers have won 25 seasons worth of match-ups with the Giants (SF took 17 and 11 have been tied).

Most importantly, the Dodgers have always had the greatest of advantages over the Giants: we’ve won World Series titles. While we have won 5 World Championships, until tonight, the Giants had won none. As a matter of fact, with 9 NL Championships since moving to LA, the Dodgers had lost more World Series than the Giants had even been in (again, before this year).

This might seem like a sore loser searching for a silver lining, but it’s not. I really view this as a historian first, and I describe the numbers we know so well as fans to mark the context within which tonight’s events unfold for me. A real rivalry can only exist when the two parties are around equal. Otherwise, at some point it becomes a condition where one team really, really cares and the other doesn’t give a shit because they’ve been excelling against their opponent for so long they can hardly remember feeling the other way. (Think Dodgers and Yankees.)

I don’t think the Dodgers and Giants rivalry was at that particular point, but it has been heading that way for a long time. It’s not anymore.

So, I am genuinely happy for the Giants. Their World Championship this year means a lot for them. It means a lot for their fans and for their city. Tonight I am happy for Steven, Jason, Ernie, Charlie, Michael, and all the rest of you.

But, as a Dodgers fan, your victory means something to me, too. It means an infusion of new energy and passion into something that helps define my love of sports, something I love deeply.

So congratulations to the SF Giants–the 2010 World Series Champions! I look forward to next year…and many more after that.

Nacio En Aztlan

One of the best things about living in Pomona, CA, is the local arts community. And one of that community’s annual traditions is just around the corner.

The dA Center for the Arts will be hosting the “Nacio En Aztlan” Chicano art show this month.  Organized and curated by Pomona’s own Frank Garcia, it is an exciting opportunity to see art work from some well-known and up-and-coming Chicana and Chicano artists, all right here in our very own backyard.

The annual show is a great chance to meet other locals who care about Pomona, the arts, and Chicanos. There are an assortment of events attached to it, which are great ways to enjoy some company, some snacks, and some art.  I suggest you contact the dA directly to find out more.

The dA Center for the Arts is located at 252-D South Main Street, in the Arts Colony in downtown Pomona.

Dodgers in the 2nd 40

I love baseball.  One of the things I love the most about it is that it has such a long regular season.  162 games.  Almost 6 full months.

Growing up, one the most anticipated times of year for me was the April start of the baseball season, when my beloved boys in blue would take the field “for reals.”  As a kid, I would live and die on any given day depending on how the Dodgers did.  When they won, I felt like all was right in the universe.  And when they didn’t, well, to put it mildly, I was crushed.

I got in the habit of following the numbers on a daily basis.  I would actually begin most seasons by clipping out the standings and box scores, game by game, and gluing them in a special notebook I kept.  When the Dodgers hit a slump–or worse–the pain became too unbearable for me to keep up with my record keeping effort.  Even on a good season, I might make it only to mid-May, the ups and downs often being to much to cope with in a portable notebook.

Likewise, for me, the baseball season didn’t end until the Dodgers lost in the playoffs or until all mathematical possibility had been exhausted for them to make it to the postseason.  After that point, I would briefly fantasize about all the teams ahead of the Dodgers becoming impaired in horrible traveling accidents.  Once the postseason began, if the Dodgers weren’t in it, I was looking toward the next April again.

As I grew up, I began to better appreciate the rhythm of the game.  I began to realize baseball, as much as anything, is a game of momentum.  There are key times in the season when it is imperative that your team clicks on the field.  If they don’t, nothing else will really matter in the end.

This is hard for a numbers kid to grasp.  When you’re up at the top, you’re always following the number 2 or 3, almost as much as you follow your own.  When you are the number 2 or 3, you want that number 1 to lose as much as anything.  It all gives the impression that it’s all connected.  And in most sports, it probably is.  But in baseball, well…the only standings that really matter, are the ones at the end of the season.  All you got to do is win more games than the other guys and, while that only happens when you beat the other guys more than they beat you, it’s not as direct a thing as it appears.

That’s when I started to think of the baseball season in quarters rather than in halves.  162 doesn’t breakdown evenly into 4 parts, but I think of it as four groups of 40 games.  As baseball fans, we spend so much time waiting for the first 40 that it’s hard not to give it too much attention.  There are few things more satisfying than a strong start in the first 40.  (For that matter, there are few things more annoying than a weak start.) But, for almost all of us almost every season, the first 40 is still warm-up.  People are finding their groove; teams are finding their formula.  It’s like the first mile of a race: what happens here is less important than what happens later on.

Instinctively, we also pay a lot of attention to the final 40.  It is, after all, the lead in to the big show.  We have a sense of its importance because we know it is the final stretch.  But even more important than winning this sprint to the finish line is what condition you’re in at the end.  Remember, beyond it is the postseason.

And that’s where momentum comes in.  You don’t just want to win more games than the number 2 team, you want to finish the final 40 while playing well.  You want your strongest players to be playing as well as they can, all the magical things that make a winning team to be happening on a regular basis, and all the intangibles to be, well, almost tangible.

I can’t tell you how many times the Dodgers have made it to the end of the season when you know they have the cards stacked against them in the postseason, not because of who they might face but because they’re not playing in that magical zone.  When your team is there?  Well, no matter how good the competition is on paper, they better get out the way.

This momentum thing is important in the rest of the season too.  For me–and this is my childhood brain talking now–the second most critical time for momentum is in the 2nd 40.  Around mid-May up until the All-Star break, when the Dodgers play like champs, it usually has meant a great season.  I can’t think of a time they have done well in the postseason when they didn’t turn in a solid May and June.

Baseball is a long season.  Any team in a season that long is going to have its ups and downs.  The trick to becoming champs is for those ups to be at just the right times so that they expand on themselves rather than implode.

I’m feeling good this season, wishing I had a notebook and a glue stick lying around.  But I also know it’s a long time until July.

Mexicano to become next Archbishop of LA

Pope Benedict XVI named José Gomez the co-adjutor archbishop of Los Angeles.  The 58-year-old Gomez, who currently serves as the Archbishop of San Antonio, Texas, now becomes the official successor to Cardinal Roger Mahoney when he turns 75 next year, the mandatory retirement age for archbishops.

You can read the LA Times story here.

The appointment of Gomez is already being lauded as a momentous day in the LA Archdiocese, since the Mexican-born priest becomes the first Latino to hold such a high position in the region since 1846 (the Spanish-Mexican era).  As the Times writes, his appointment “was apparently a nod to the demographics of Los Angeles, where Latinos form a large part of the overall population and especially of the region’s Roman Catholics.”

Gomez is a conservative priest; he is a member of Opus Dei and received his current appointment near the end of the papacy of John Paul II.  Pope John Paul II made a record number of appointments to the Church hierarchy in his final years, most of which involved conservative advocates in the Church.  He increased the size of the College of Cardinals (the body who chooses the pope) and, in the case of the U.S. Church, made key appointments to major Archdioceses.  Gomez’ new appointment continues this trend.

If you are Roman Catholic and Latin American, then the appointment of Gomez is, I suppose, a momentous occasion.  In a city like Los Angeles, where the Mexican (and Central American) population is a definable sector of the city’s economy, society, culture, and, well, everything, then this kind of  recognition is fitting.  It is especially noteworthy that it comes from an institution that has struggled to meet the culturally-specific spiritual needs of the people it serves.  (All previous Archbishops of the LA Archdiocese, proper, have been European or U.S.-born whites.)

But there are other forces involved here, too.  Los Angeles is an immigrant city, making it one of the epicenters of US Catholicism in the 21st century.  As the US Catholic Church continues to lose its hold over the US faithful, the immigrants who revitalize our economy and society also do the same for the church.  The appointment of a mexicano, in particular, is a clear attempt to make immigrant LA feel more welcome and at home in the church.

But immigrants are not loyal Catholics without limits.  One of the major trends facing the Catholic Church is the growth in Latino immigrant Protestant sects and established Protestant Churches who are making major inroads in their recruitment of the Spanish-speaking.  This is an ages-old problem in the Church, one referred to as “Protestant leakage” in their U.S. historical records.  The appointment of Gomez is also a clear attempt to stem this tide, and reaffirm the place and position of the Catholic Church in Latino America.

Only time will tell if they are successful, though I personally think the cards are stacked against them.  With the scandal of protected pedophilia plaguing the Church now, this is a critical moment in its North American history–a time without comparison.  Out of this moment of crisis will come a reshaped Church, one likely even more immigrant-dependent than in the past.  But the ultimate question is the extent to which it will be adversely affected by these scandals.

Walter Alston is Still Dead…

Walter Emmons Alston died 25 years ago today, eight years after having retired as manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers. He passed away on October 1, 1984, at the age of 72.

Alston managed the Dodgers for 23 seasons, four in Brooklyn and nineteen in Los Angeles (where they played for four years at the Coliseum and for fifteen at Chavez Ravine).  In that time he and the Dodgers won seven National League titles and four World Series championships.  His first World Series ring came in 1955 against the Yankees, Brooklyn’s only victory in the big show and the franchise’s first of six (1955, 1959, 1963, 1965, 1981, 1988; not counting the Bridegroom’s 1890 championship).

He was emblematic of a period in baseball’s history when the commercial hype of it all wasn’t yet the daily, unending norm.  He was quiet and matter of fact in his managing style, as the LA Times described him, “conservative and colorless.”  But he was also one of the most successful managers in baseball history.  Dodger pitching-legend Carl Erskine remembered Alston’s first season as manager.  “We weren’t playing too well, so Walt got us together and said: ‘If you expect me to be a rah-rah manager, you’re wrong. You’re all good players.  You know the price you have to pay.  Now go out and do it.'”

Alston retired when I was four, but he remained a revered figure among fans, including Dodger announcer Vin Scully, who for all practical purposes was my baseball history book growing up.  I honestly haven’t one actual memory of Alston as a living person, but I also can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t know who he was.

The Brewers, the Dodgers, and some old school baseball

The Dodgers are likely moving out of their brief post-All Star break slump.  The best indicators of it are threefold: things are breaking their way in games, even when they lose; they kicked Milwaukee’s butt last night, 17 to 4; and, last night, they made one of the Brewers so mad he had to follow the Dodgers back into their clubhouse after the game to try and find somebody to beat up.

Here’s the full story from today’s LA Times.  The Brewer in question–Prince Fielder–was so pissed off because Dodger reliever Guillermo Mota pegged him in the thigh with a pitch–in the ninth inning of this Dodger blowout–apparently in retaliation for the Brewer’s pitcher hitting Manny Ramirez in the seventh.

The part I love about the story most is that, yes, that is why Fielder was hit.

After the game, Russell Martin–who came to meet Fielder at the Dodger locker room door–said to the press, “”It’s protection. It’s just about keeping the team unified and pulling the wagons together.”

Now I don’t condone violence or retribution, outside of baseball, but in the game, well, let’s just say there are “rules” you can read in a book and there are “rules” you learn by doing.  And I believe in following rules.

Russell Martin is right, it is about protection and unification.  It is about being a team, and even being little, petty boys who are emotionally invested in being a team.  And it’s old school Dodger baseball, too.  Don Drysdale was a fan of the policy of retribution from the mound, as were generations of Dodgers before him and after.  Even more, it a good sign that the team is strong and healthy in the ways you can’t really measure, and can’t often control, but that you always need going into the final stretch.

This is going to be a fun ride!

Villaraigosa and the CA Gov Race

News came today from the LA Times of Antonio Villaraigosa’s decision not to run for Governor of California.

If you had asked me a year ago–even a few months ago–I would have said Antonio’s run was a “sure thing.”  Polling aside, the largest measure of the State’s Democratic machine was ready to line up behind him.  On top of that, he was running in a State that would likely be leaning anti-Republican and he–the potential first Mexican American Governor in the State’s history–could help push that along with a “mini-me” version of the Obama effect.

So why did he decide not to run?

His people are talking about his dedication to the City of Los Angeles, and his devotion to his family, both as motivating causes.  Behind the scenes, they are talking about low polling numbers and a possible Senate run in 2012.

But a big part of their decision was a recognition that CA is a sinking ship.  The current crisis in the State speaks to the structural problems we are facing, ones that require a true and meaningful structural overhaul to cure.  Stepping up to be “captain” at this time is a no-win situation politically.  If you have vision of a political career beyond the Governorship, it is a death knell.  While there is movement in CA to form a Constitutional Convention next year, that movement still possesses a flurry of unknowns.  The simple truth of the matter is, things are bad.  And we don’t know if there is going to be any clear and immediate way to fix them.

Villaraigosa isn’t a superstar in the political arena when it comes to his skills.  Frankly, I think of him as more of a brown face who has been as lucky as he has been deliberate in attaining the positions he has.  He and his team knew they weren’t up to the challenges facing California.  Frankly, who is?  Furthermore, they knew that fact would spell the end to a promising career.

Read more LATINO LIKE ME.

Manny Ramirez and Baseball’s Soul

Today is a scandalous day in Los Angeles, but not a surprising one. Fan-favorite Manny Ramirez, the cornerstone of the Los Angeles Dodgers, and the resident “star” of the team, has been suspended for 50 games for testing positive for a banned substance.

The profound lack of surprise in this matter has little to do with the Dodgers or with Ramirez. Really, it has everything to do with the reality of baseball. You can only be truly surprised at today’s news if you continue to hold on to some fantasy image of the sport as being untainted from drugs and money and “business.” At the risk of sounding too pessimistic, let me paraphrase a Jim Rome analysis: just assume EVERYONE did it and then be surprised when you learn one of them did not.

This isn’t an apology for Ramirez. Not at all. As a fan, as a Latino, and as somebody with a small obsession for popular culture, I got as excited as anybody last year when he arrived. I was both pleased and moved by his ability to turn to the Spanish-language press and become a bona fide “Latino Dodger,” like one we haven’t seen since the days of Fernando. L.A. loves cultural movements and fads, especially when it is tied to wining, and Manny didn’t let us down. Now, we have to share in the burden of his failure because we, as fans, don’t get to see him play for fifty days.

Still, my disappointment is tempered by the way I see the sport now versus the way I see it as a fan, as a historian, or “as it was.” I don’t pretend to think the game of baseball was “pure” or more “wholesome” in an era long since passed. There were addictions, immoralities, and just plain bad shit that followed the game. You see, baseball—like any enterprise involving people—is human. Ty Cobb was an asshole. Mickey Mantle an alcoholic. Babe Ruth was an asshole and an alcoholic. I’m sure it wasn’t just fans who threatened to kill or hurt Jackie Robinson. And these are just the easy ones!

Baseball was and probably always has been all-too human. The Ramirez controversy, perhaps, is a reflection of that. But I think it is something more, too.

Steven Rubio, a friend of mine who maintains one of the most interesting and diverse blogs out there, wrote an interesting piece yesterday. As an avid fan of the SF Giants (the Dooku to my Yoda) he wondered whether or not professional players are more fans of their team or of the game they play. You can read my comment to his piece, where I probably gave in to the romance and sentimentality of the sport more than anything else. Because, my dear friends, I fear most professional players today are fans of themselves before their team or the game itself.

Again, I don’t mean to sound overly pessimistic, but this is the “business” of baseball. High contracts are but infinitesimal slices of the big pie of money that comes with modern-day baseball. The business side of the sport has been fucking up the human side of it for a long time now. You can see the small instances of it just in my lifetime, from the players’ union fights of the 1970s up to the drug scandals of today.

For the Dodgers, that change came quickly but much later than it did for almost everybody else.  When the O’Malley family finally reliquished control and sold the team in 1998, the era of the family-owned team came to an end.  For goodness sakes, from 1954 to 1996 we had only two managers!  How many popes were there in that period?  Dodger stadium–with it signature colors and blank spaces free from advertising–changed.  The team culture changed.  The ways decisions about who stayed and who went also changed.  The Dodgers went corporate.

The business of it all nurtures players’ self-conceptions as products which need to increase their market values. Drug use is but one part of that. Organized baseball’s avoidance to dealing with the drugs is another. Barry Bonds, Manny Ramirez, Alex Rodriguez, and the whole lot of them are worse for it. So are we. In some ways, so is the game.

I remember Don Drysdale very fondly. One of the finest pitchers in Dodger and baseball history, I knew him best as one of the regular Dodgers’ broadcast commentators until his unexpected death in July 1993. One of the truly wonderful things about the man was that he was a Dodger fan, through and through. Every once in awhile, when a player got hit by a pitch, Drysdale would explain the way it worked in his time. If one of yours got hit, one of theirs—on the very first pitch the next inning—got hit harder. If they got his mid section, you got the head. If your player had to leave the game, well, you get the picture. (By the way, Drysdale ended up #15 on the pitchers all-time list of most “Hit By Pitches” with 154 in only 13 seasons and a bit over 3400 innings pitched.)

There’s nothing “pure” or “wholesome” about Drysdale’s baseball strategy. Frankly, there’s nothing even tactically smart about it from the perspective of the game. But, if you think about it, in doing what he did, Don Drysdale was being a loyal fan.  He was protecting his team and taking the emotional and even childish aspect of play to its natural adult extreme.  This wasn’t “business.”  This was business.

And that’s what I’m left with today.  Not surprise, not sorrow, not even loss.  Just the same.  Wishing the game of baseball I get to share with my two kids was a little more human and a lot less of everything else.

Read more LATINO LIKE ME.