Tuesday, April 7, 1998
Consistently bad Dodgers on brink of disaster again
COLUMN: New owner, salary disputes threaten to destroy talented
team
Whenever April rolls around, I get that special feeling in what
Denis Leary affectionately termed "the cockles region." I scan the
previews and follow the player transactions, and inevitably, I
think that this could be the year.
I see that the best hitter in the National League, Mike "62nd
round draft pick, my ass" Piazza, is healthy, huge, and raring to
go.
I see a pitching staff with one of the premier rotations in the
game and definitely the most fun to say, with "Call me Ismael"
Valdes, Chan "the Ho" Park, Hideo Nomo (’nuff said) and Ramon "I
can still beat Pedro in wrestling" Martinez.
I see a team that is past due for a breakout after nine years of
post-Hershiser disappointment.
Just as I am about to lose myself in this rhapsody of nicknames,
I remember something, and like Riddick Bowe after two days in the
Marine Corps, I come to my senses and remember.
This isn’t some Robert Redford, Kevin Costner ode to success
baseball fantasy, these are the Dodgers we’re talking about, a team
that has consistently overachieved at only one thing.
Underachieving.
So I look again, and instead of seeing a team on the cusp of
victory, I see one on the brink of implosion.
First of all, the team is undergoing an ownership change, which
is always a tumultuous endeavor. Now when the players come back
from a road trip, instead of fresh baked cookies from Ma O’Malley,
they’ll get free Fox Sports T-shirts from Fox Networks despot
Rupert Murdoch.
Just think, when the Atlanta Braves come to town this season,
the best action won’t be on the field, it’ll be in the owner’s box,
where Murdoch and Ted Turner will be involved in a rousing,
Gatsby-esque contest of who can burn the most hundred dollar bills
during the seventh inning stretch.
Then there’s Piazza’s contract dispute, which has already kicked
into high gear. If anyone wants to debate the destructive power of
in-season contract squabbles, prepare to be deluged by enough
examples to sink the Bismarck.
I look at the infield, hallowed ground once patrolled by Garvey,
Lopes and Russell, and what do I see?
A third baseman who waited until late May of last season before
he started to hit his weight.
A rookie first baseman who has to deal with Rookie of the Year
expectations.
A second baseman who, by virtue of his being able to traverse
the basepaths just a bit faster than your average steamroller, has
managed to extort more money than Ferdinand Marcos.
You know what else I see? A heart attack waiting to happen every
time a ball is hit on the ground.
Then there’s the offense, which has been to run scoring what
Oliver Twist was to gruel; they want some more, like, right
now.
If it’s offense you’re looking for, stick to watching the UCLA
baseball team, and the best set of Erics in Westwood since Karros
(that’s Byrnes of the Gigantic Forearms clan and Valent of the 18
Home Runs is Nothing delegation, for those of you scoring at
home).
I know that the Dodgers are only five games into the season, and
have their home opener today (where Rupert Murdoch reportedly plans
to toss coins to the masses from his luxury box before flying home
to New Zealand to watch a cricket match), but the problems they
face look like chronic maladies.
They’re still making the same mistakes from 12 years ago, for
goodness sakes. Something the Dodger brain trust needs to realize:
with two on in the bottom of an inning against the Cardinals, when
you’re facing their lone slugger, be it Jack Clark or Mark McGwire,
walk him!
Until they get that message, until the Dodgers realize that
Piazza is worth whatever he wants, and until Rupert Murdoch is a
bit less hands-on than Bill Clinton, it’s going to be a long
season.
Mark Shapiro is a Daily Bruin staff writer and columnist. E-mail
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