Why I don't like the Dodgers

Growing up I quickly became enamored with sports and, as a southern Californian, began to become aware of the local teams. By the time I was in late elementary school I was waking up each morning, reading the L.A. Times sports section from front to back, and memorizing statistics for favorite teams and players.

Most boys (and girls) get their team affiliations spoon-fed to them from their parents, particularly their fathers. For some reason, my Dad never operated this way. I can't remember him ever sitting down when we were little to watch a game or ever hearing him express a rooting interest. (This is in stark contrast to myself--my kids know without a doubt who their Dad roots for and who he roots against!) It wasn't until we three boys were in high school, I believe, playing sports ourselves and ingrained in our rooting interests that my Dad began to watch with us, and express his own long-dormant preferences.

So as a sports-obsessed kid I had a rare opportunity to pick my own teams and develop my own loyalties. As a child of the 80's who was immersed in basketball, it's no surprise that I attached myself to the Lakers. Looking back I can't believe how fortunate I was to grow up in the Showtime era with Chick Hearn. I can remember watching games with a pad of paper and a pencil, carefully keeping track on Magic's points, assists, and rebounds, hoping for a triple double.

My other passion growing up was reading. I loved our local library--and realize looking back that the main Whittier library is an impressive facility. (I worked there for two summers in college as a page--still probably my favorite job ever.) We would go to the library weekly, as I remember it, and I would spend a long time perusing the juvenile sports and biography sections. It was here that I first read about Roger Staubach and the Dallas Cowboys. I can remember seeing them on TV, over at a friends house (remember, my Dad didn't watch sports) against the Rams for a playoff game in the early 80's. It was probably the first NFL game I ever saw. I was captivated by the star on the helmet, by quarterback Danny White, tailback Tony Dorsett, and of course, Ed "Too Tall" Jones. I was hooked. The library became a place to read about this proud franchise and its legendary characters such as Staubach.

College football and basketball preferences developed a bit later. Again, with no direction at home I was free to attach myself however I pleased. Most of my friends and friends families seemed to have a love for UCLA and a strong dislike for USC. This was all it took for me to pick the Trojans. I have a strong contrary streak and a desire to be different and, again, in the early 80's (and throughout much of the 80's, really), the Bruins were on the upswing and the men from Troy were trending down. I chose the cardinal and gold and have never looked back. Only after this loyalty had become an irreversible part of me did I find out that my Dad graduated from UCLA! And later, not even my younger brother becoming a Bruin could shift my loyalties.

And that brings us to the Dodgers. Here is the one instance that doesn't hold true to form, for I once loved the Dodgers. In the days of Cey, Garvey, Lopes, Yeager, and Baker, I had all of their cards and bled Dodger blue. (Though, true to my desire to be different, I declared that Darrell Thomas was my favorite.) So what happened?

The Dodgers weren't loyal to me--or at least that's how I perceived it. Beginning in the 80's these baseball heroes of mine slowly disappeared from Chavez ravine, the victims of trades, free agency, injuries, or simply retirement. I was too young at that point to realize that this was a normal occurrence and that other favorites would emerge, that it was the team that was important. So I looked elsewhere...

...and I found the Angels. The Angels were fresh and new to me. They were very good in 1982 and again in 1985. They had Don Baylor, Reggie Jackson, Bobby Grich (and his mustache), Doug Decinces, and my favorite, the smooth, smooth Rod Carew. I switched. And I've never looked back.

It certainly didn't hurt that as I got older I realized that living in L.A. County being an Angel fan was a bit of a rarity (again, that desire to be different). We Angel fans may not have had very good teams but we were loyal--if few.

But why do I dislike the Dodgers so much? Why do I actively root against them? Believe it or not, the seeds of this resentment were planted by the Los Angeles Times. About the time I embraced the Angels was about the time I began my ritual of reading the Sports section with my bowl of cereal (a ritual that I still keep, by the way). The sports editors of the L.A. Times have long favored the Dodgers over the Angels when it comes to coverage. The Dodgers routinely got the front page while the Angels were relegated to the page 3--or worse. This wasn't the Dodgers fault, of course, but as a youngster I took it personally and, in truth, I've never been able to fully let it go.

It has given me a great deal of empathy over the years for Clipper fans, however. For they have been given the same treatment by the Times and their fans are equally as bitter against the Lakers--the supposed source of their second-class status--as Angel fans often are at the Dodgers.

So it is not surprising that the new century has brought me--and many long-suffering Halo fans--a certain measure of satisfaction. When the Angels won the title in 2002 I don't what made me more happy: that they were the champs or that the Dodgers had finally been relegated to the sidelines.

I realize this is irrational and somewhat mean-spirited, but I can't seem to help it. The Dodgers are like an older brother that has gotten all the accolades and attention--even long after they have deserved it.

Which makes the fact that the Dodgers are in first place and own the leagues best record right now like fingernails on a chalkboard to me! Sigh.

This is why I don't like the Dodgers.

(By the way, my Dad did have one very important sports influence in my life. When I was in the 8th grade he gave me a paperback copy of John Feinstein's A Season on the Brink which chronicled the 1986 basketball season for the Indiana Hoosiers and gave a very insider look at volatile coach Bobby Knight. I loved it. I found Knight intense, larger-than-life, and utterly compelling. I became a Hoosiers fan overnight and still root for them. When I drove around the country after college I took a pilgrimage of sorts to the campus and snuck into a closed practice at Assembly Hall. When Knight spotted me he kicked me out. I was elated.)