Grip on Sports: As adventures go, this one was enjoyable and simple
A GRIP ON SPORTS • A World Series adventure in three acts. How Shakespearian, down to the villain and the hero. Read on.
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• Prologue
My sister is nine years older than me. She was not only an older sister but, due to our mom’s health issues (that’s how certain problems were referred to back then), served as a surrogate mother to me until she went of to college in the mid-1960s.
So when she called last week and asked if I would like to go to the World Series with her, there was no way I was going to say no.
See, she felt guilty. She had attended more than her share of World Series games when we were young. She was dad’s oldest, his favorite. The son he never had. So he took her to the World Series in 1963 and 1965 and 1966.
Me? I was always in line to go, and never did. So she wanted to make up for it. I bought a plane ticket, she took care of the game tickets (paying more for them than dad did for his first house), and we were golden.
• Act One: Getting there.
Everyone in the Los Angeles area, it seems, was a Dodger fan yesterday. I heard more “Go Dodgers” than I usually hear “Go Cougs” on a Pullman Saturday. And all those newly minted Dodger fans seemed to want to park in the Dodger Stadium parking lot. It sold out before the day dawned. Let me repeat that. The parking lot spaces sold out. That’s as Los Angeles as Randy Newman.
So Linda and I made alternate plans. We drove to North Hollywood and hopped on the subway. Now that’s not L.A., not the one I knew. But it is now. The train was clean, relatively inexpensive and easy to use. And packed with Dodger fans.
It dumped us off at historic Union Station, where buses awaited to take us up the hill to Chavez Ravine. They were not overcrowded, had a dedicated lane and zipped to the parking spot behind centerfield.
From there it was just a long, stair-filled walk to the top of the stadium, the reserved section where others of our ilk bought tickets for L.A.’s first World Series in 29 years.
The celebrities? They were escorted to their seats, which were locked in to the television cameras. From Jerry Seinfeld to Rob Lowe (c’mon, Rob Lowe?), they were broadcast to the big screen every inning. But no one got the reception that one man received. When the cameras honed in on Vin Scully, the entire stadium stood and cheered. He seemed touched.
But back to the pregame. The celebrities had their way, the rest of us – there were more than 54,000 in the venerable stadium last night – ours. It involved walking. And sweating.
It was more than 100 degrees in L.A. yesterday. (It was the hottest World Series game on record.) And that b.s. about dry heat? When you were raking leaves in 40-degree weather two days before, 100 is 100 pal, no matter the humidity. And a mass of humanity made up of all shapes, sizes and degrees of inebriation, doesn’t help make it cooler.
First pitch temperature: 103. Last pitch temperature: 91. In between? Hotter than a resort on the River Styx.
• Act Two: The game.
Linda, my sister, was at Sandy Koufax’s last World Series game in 1966 (his last game, actually). Thanks to an anemic Dodger offense – and Willie Davis’ three errors – it ended, well, poorly.
Last night she was at Clayton Kershaw’s first World Series game. The Dodger offense, outside of a Chris Taylor – former Mariner Chris Taylor for you keeping score at home – leadoff home run that made the stadium shake like the Chatsworth earthquake, and a two-run Justin Turner blast in the sixth, was anemic again. But it was just good enough.
The defense was solid, Kershaw, who has had his post-season struggles, was exceptional – three hits, one run and 11 strike outs in seven innings, almost Koufax-like – and the Dodgers defeated Houston 3-1.
It took just 2 hours and 28 minutes, the fastest World Series game in 25 years.
A classic Dodger Stadium Fall Classic game.
The folks sitting in Reserved Section 43, high enough to shake hands with the helicopter pilots who continually circled the stadium, never stopped cheering, talking or supporting their team. It was a polyglot of Los Angeles, folks from all walks of life, of all races, sexes and creeds. All thrown together in a couple rows for a couple hours for one purpose: to make as much noise as possible. It was America as it was meant to be.
Only one of them, however, kept score. It was some 61-year-old former sportswriter. And he did it on the back of his ticket. Get this. They weren’t selling score sheets in the stadium. And getting a program took standing in an hour-long line. Linda did that for me – surrogate mother, remember – and I made do with a homemade scorecard.
It is what you do at a baseball game, especially a World Series game.
Act Three: Getting back.
This may be hard to believe, but few fans left early. I know, Dodger Stadium and all that. Everyone arrives in the third inning and leaves by the seventh. Not this night.
And if 54,253 people want to get from Point A to Point B at the same time, there will be a jam. There was Tuesday night. A huge one.
The line to get on the buses back to Union Station were longer than the one to get into McCarthey for a Saint Mary’s game. The buses themselves were overstuffed. The parking lot was like a funnel with no hole. But almost an hour after the game ended, we arrived back to the train station, walked the half mile to the subway and off we went.
The freeway only had two slowdowns – even in the late evening that’s good for L.A. – and getting to the In-N-Out in Westlake was simple.
As we walked in, I noticed Kershaw and Koufax were standing in line in front of us. Not the real ones – that would have been too L.A. – but acolytes with T-shirts serving as faux jerseys.
At one point they were bookends among the people waiting for their quintessential Los Angeles dining experience.
Koufax. Kershaw. Bookends. Perfect.
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WSU: Theo Lawson held down the fort in Pullman yesterday, writing about a defensive back’s commitment and a new statue at Husky Stadium. Theo also had his Pac-12 power rankings and interviews with players after practice. They can be found on our WSU football page. … Theo will also have a live chat today. … The Times’ Stefanie Loh also adds a story on the commitment. … Arizona’s running game is pretty quarterback-centric. But not completely. … We linked a story yesterday from Missoula about a Montana defensive back getting in trouble in Washington. Ryan Collingwood has a story on what happened in Pullman the other night.
Elsewhere in the Pac-12, Wednesdays are always good days to publish notebooks about what’s going on around the conference. Today is no exception. … Washington has a kicking problem. The Huskies need to have it fixed when they face UCLA this weekend. … The week begins tomorrow night in Corvallis when Oregon State hosts Stanford. … California and Colorado will square off in Boulder on Saturday. … USC is not healthy. Arizona State could probably care less. … Oregon and Utah have had quarterback health issues the past few weeks.
Gonzaga: A men’s golfer had a good tournament back East. … Elsewhere in the WCC, BYU has no idea who will start.
EWU: The Eagles hope to shore up some things during their bye week. Jim Allen tells us what in this story. … Jim also has a Cooper Kupp story.
Idaho: The Vandals are hosting the women’s basketball regional in Spokane next spring. Tickets go on sale today. … The Vandal men will take advantage of a new NCAA ruling to play a charity exhibition game at Oregon.
Chiefs: Spokane continued its road trip with a 6-4 win at Calgary.
Preps: After a relatively busy Tuesday, we can pass along roundups in volleyball and girls’ soccer. Dave Nichols covered the GSL slowpitch title game, which University won. … Jim Allen has a story on Central Valley’s soccer team.
Seahawks: It’s all over except the signature. Veteran pass rusher Dwight Freeney will be joining the Hawks’ defensive line. … Is Jeremy Lane out as a starter? He had a Twitter rant that may cause some problems.
Mariners: There are a whole bunch of World Series stories to pass along, including a couple from columnists I really admire. Enjoy them this morning.
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• Sorry this is a bit late this morning. I believe my eight-year-old MacBook Pro is about to give up the ghost. And it will come back to haunt me as one of those spinning rainbow-colored balls. Until later …