Thursday, January 29, 2004

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Today is January 29, 2004. Dodger fans, however, will come to know it as 1/29. Obviously to compare is to 9/11 is both absurd and insulting, but on 1/29, things will change forever. On 1/29, Frank McCourt's purchase of the Los Angeles Dodgers will be approved by Major League Baseball owners, who are essentially being led to their decision by a jackass commissioner. Bud Selig isn't the only jackass, however. There are lots of them in LA, a city whose futile attempt to stop the sale has come far too slowly and far too late. It was painfully clear from day one what the Boston developer's intentions were (despite what he might say today), yet everyone continued to work toward finalizing the deal. Only in the past week or two have anti-McCourt efforts begun to materialize—far too late to have any impact. The only impact there'll be now is the impact of the top deck collapsing onto the reserved level below. And the reserved level collapsing onto the loge level. And the loge level collapsing onto the yellow seats. And an organization that was once a treasure collapsing into a big f***ing dust cloud that's going to kill us all. Sure, it's been no picnic the last few years under Fox, and even during O'Malley's final years, but we're entering new territory now. Enemy territory. And we don't have weapons. Just Fred McGriff bobbleheads. Hard-core Dodger fans have cursed and despised the team in recent years, but there's one reason for that: we care. After 1/29, however, it's going to be very tough to care. That's what's sad. When we know the owner has no aspirations to win, when we know the castle we call Dodger Stadium isn't long for this world, when we know even the guys on the team are dejected and uninspired... it's going to be very tough to care. Should we at least give McCourt a chance? Judging by the look of his weasel-like face, no. At this point, having any hope would only make the inevitable twice as painful. And while pain is something Dodger fans have become very accustomed to experiencing, the pain of watching it all go to shit is more than many of us can take. There are a lot of people, however, who are happy—most of them in the city of Boston. The fact that Boston appears thrilled to be getting rid of McCourt is a pretty morbid sign.