Despite the season the Dodgers had, both on and off the field, I have to say that I thoroughly enjoyed the season.

After all, even though I take it pretty seriously, it is only a game. And it’s one of the few places that I don’t get too wrapped up in the business end of it. It’s a diversion, a hobby, not politics.

So, on Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for the 2011 season.

I’m especially thankful to have witnessed almost all of Clayton Kershaw’s home games in his Cy Young Season. I think I sat there with knees jiggling for each of the last three home games he pitched as my brothers and I would track his changing ERA inning by inning. At some point, we went out there fully expecting perfect games. It never happened, but we did sit through those two back-to-back 11-strikeout games.

In no particular order, I’m also thankful for:

a very entertaining postseason
strong pitching throughout the National League (I felt like there were blockbuster matchups every time I turned around)
Matt Kemp’s almost-40/40 season
summer nights at Dodger Stadium
sharing the season with my little brothers
Dee Gordon’s major league debut
and most recently, McCourt’s decision to finally sell the team.

Happy Thanksgiving!

For the second time in five days, I flipped to ESPN to watch the ninth inning. After a first out that required some theatrics by the centerfielder, the smile on Galarraga’s face showed something that was very different from Roy Halladay. It was pure glee. There was such excitement and relief on his face, and all of this prior to the end of the game. I couldn’t help but want this, oh so very badly, for the pitcher.

All the way to the last out.

And on a call bungled badly by umpire Jim Joyce, the perfect game became a one-hit shutout. After the game, Joyce admitted that he was wrong. His interview was about as painful for me to watch as the hug catcher Alex Avila gave Galarraga at the end of the game.

For someone like Joyce to know that he bungled a call of that magnitude is heartbreaking in its own right.

But I will admit that I cried. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like for Galarraga in the morning. Now, he’ll know that he pitched a perfect game, something only 20 other pitchers have ever done. He’ll carry that with him for the rest of his life. But baseball is all about legacy. It’s memories and stories passed down from generation to generation.

It’s so sad that the story being passed down is not one of the improbable perfect game thrown by the kid who was just called up from Triple-A. No, it will be the legacy of Jim Joyce and his badly bungled call.

As far as baseball heartbreaks go, this has got to be one of the worst.

I went to last Wednesday night’s Dodger game with a Padres fan. While they were playing the Padres.

A fan who stood up and clapped throughout the entire night as Padres beat the Dodgers 10-5.

About the third inning, I shook my head in disbelief at the situation. Then, I smiled. Not because I’ve grown as a person—which, this really proves that I have. But because I have some amazing friends. Regardless of their baseball affiliation.

Pitchers (12): Chad Billingsley, Jonathan Broxton, Charlie
Haeger, Clayton Kershaw (L), Hiroki Kuroda, Carlos Monasterios, Ramon
Ortiz, Russ Ortiz, Vicente Padilla, George Sherrill (L), Ramon
Troncoso, Jeff Weaver

Catchers (2): Brad Ausmus, Russell Martin

Infielders (6): Ronnie Belliard, Casey Blake, Jamey Carroll, Blake DeWitt, Rafael Furcal, James Loney

Outfielders (5): Garret Anderson, Andre Ethier, Reed Johnson, Matt Kemp, Manny Ramirez

The truth is that I love the core of the Dodgers team. We finally have a consistent group of guys that I can look forward to seeing every game (even Manny).

And, as much as I would have liked a Roy Halladay-caliber starting pitcher, I have a lot of confidence in Clayton Kershaw and  Chad Billingsley. In fact, as I watch Kershaw mix pitches up during the spring, I have some chills. Within the next couple of years, I think we have the possibility of seeing an epic season or at least a Cy Young-caliber season. I am also very excited to see Charlie Haeger. I loved Tom Candiotti, and I love the idea of having another knuckleballer.

In terms of the starting lineup, I am particularly excited to see Blake DeWitt as the opening day 2nd baseman. I loved Orlando Hudson, but I also love the number of young players we now have as starters that came up through the Dodger organization.  I don’t think there will be anything less than an All-Star caliber season from Matt Kemp, Andre Ethier, and Manny Ramirez. Nothing terribly overwhelming about the rest of the lineup, but it’s solid, which is nice.

In terms of the rest of the league:

• I’m excited to see Roy Halladay–right up until October–after reading Tom Verducci’s story about him in SI this week. Leave it to Verducci to make me like him, even though I really wish he was a Dodger and doubly wish that he was not pitching for the team that comes very close to the Yankees in my hiearchy of baseball hatred.
• Even though, they are in our division, I’m excited to see what the Rockies do this year. This mostly comes from my love of Jim Tracy. I’m happy he found a place to succeed, and I really like Huston Street.
• I’m interested to see how the Brewers do this season solely because they have a lineup filled with players that I loved watching in the 90s: Trevor Hoffman (yes loved, in that I hate him kind of way), Randy Wolf, Craig Counsell, and Jim Edmonds.
• The 1-2 starters for the STL Cardinals still make me cringe. I’d like to say that I want them to fail, but really I love great pitching—until October. Chris Carpenter & Adam Wainright, yet again. It will be interesting to see how Brad Penny does in the 3-spot there.
• Jason Heyward. Everyone’s already anointing him the ROY. True or not, it will be fun to see him, and if it is true, hopefully, he’ll have enough firepower to give the Phillies a run for their money. But then, I look at the Braves rotation and realize it will probably be Philly atop the NL East yet again.
• The Phillies. Everything about them makes me queasy. Yes, they are that good. Again.
• The Mariners should be fun this year. I loved Milton Bradley when he was a Dodger, but I have to laugh because he’s a ticking time bomb, and it should be interesting to see how he does in Seattle. Along with Casey Kotchman and Chone Figgins. I don’ t know, though. Jr. Griffrey might have a positive influence on the whole lot of them, and they do have a good 1-2 combo in Felix Hernandez and Cliff Lee.
• I’m interested to see the Detroit Tigers sans my favorite Granderson. They still have a solid lineup and a pretty good number 1 in Jason Verlander.
• In there where-are-they-now category: I can’t help but root for Orlando Hudson with the Twins, Juan Pierre with the White Sox, and Adrian Beltre with the Red Sox.
• The Red Sox pitching looks like a lot of fun this year: Beckett, John Lackey, and Dice-K.
• And for the only Yankee I will ever talk about: Mariano Rivera. I’m excited to see if he can improve on his 0.90 WHIP, 44 saves, and 1.76 ERA at the age of 40.

I guess it’s true. Baseball is most fun when you’re pacing in April for it to start and when you’re pacing in October waiting for it to end. Not that I won’t fully enjoy May through August and the sun-soaked days at Dodger Stadium.

It’s time!

I have to.

When I was at spring training, I managed to have my picture taken with him. And, well, you see, I think I’m a curse. It seems that any player I have ever met instantly has some sort of bad luck. Career-wise, game-wise.

Most often they are traded.

I stay away from buying t-shirts and jerseys with my favorite players names on them solely because I know what that means. They will be traded.

I have a history.

So, I kind of felt bad when Weaver posed for the picture and by the end of spring training he did not have a spot in the rotation.

Sigh.

So, I cheer for him. I’m happy every time he gets a start because, in my mind, it means that maybe, just maybe, the curse has worn off.

It has, after all, been five months. Plenty of time….

It’s been awhile since I’ve written about
the Dodgers. I didn’t want to create some dramatic rant about how every
time I’m at Dodger Stadium since the All-Star Break, I’m nervously
jiggling my foot, holding my breath when anyone gets up in the bullpen
or otherwise going into some sort of rant against some situation that I
have deemed ridiculous as that particular moment.

My spring mantra of “who am I” to question Joe Torre was replaced
with a 15-minute discussion with Tanaya about how Torre needs a Twitter
account so we can helpfully point out all of the things he’s missing
during the game.

My desire to not to engage in any scoreboard watching has been
replaced with a midafternoon check of the Giants and Rockies score and
a nightly reading of the box scores.

My steadfast belief that we “should just see if we can win with this
team” has resulted in my quite literally banging my head on my desk
when the Dodgers let John Smoltz end up with the Cardinals.

I’ve watched the offense struggle. I’ve watched Manny’s lackluster
defense in front of millions of adoring fans. I’ve watched pitcher
after pitcher not make it through the 5th inning.

Right after the Break, we sat in the stadium in some sort of
nailbiter, and I clearly remember saying, “This is not good. It’s only
July.”

We both looked at each other and pretty much realized that we’re
going to be nervous wrecks through the end of the season. Forget the
playoffs, my blood pressure is going to rise and fall with the numbers
in the W-L column for the next six weeks.

And I love it.

I absolutely love it.

Yes, it would have been nice to cruise into September with a 15-game
lead, all but obliterating the hope of Giants fans for the NL West
title. Yes, it would have been nice to sit here knowing that Kershaw
had finally worked through the issues I witnessed firsthand in the
spring and that he was consistently overpowering hitters for 8 and 9
innings. Yes, it would have been nice to be able to name all five guys
in the rotation with confidence.

But baseball happens. It happens this way as a sort of slow torture
that is designed to keep me coming back. After all, when have I ever
liked anything easy?

And my nerves? And rants? And screaming?

Love. All love.

And I take that love, along with a clenched jaw and a tapping foot, with me for the next few weeks.

Until I can progress to nervous pacing in October.