Back in Charge

(Last night, Tommy Lasorda came out of retirement to manage the Dodgers on his birthday.  We asked him for a recap while he enjoyed glass #3 of "victory wine")

How do you like that?  This was one of the best birthday gifts I've ever received.  There I was, back in the dugout, leading the Dodgers to victory over the Giants.  That picture up there is after Matt Kemp continued to remind those windbag writers who the MVP is - it's number 27!

Look at those stats: Matt goes 4-5, a 2 run homer and 3 doubles!  For the year, he's top 3 or number 1 in the NL for average, home runs, and RBI's.  What, you want to pick somebody from the Phillies?  Fuck 'em!

(Lasorda is poured another glass of wine)

Same goes for Kershaw for the Cy Young in the national league - first place in wins and ERA.  Now, those writers might say "Ah..."(belch)...whoop...they'd say "Ah...we can't give both those awards to a losing team, or they don't make the playoffs."  Bullshit!  They're the best - hell, I just managed us OVER .500!  That was my - what is it, Dave?  My 1,600th win.  You what?  I'll tell you how we did it.

I'm a gentleman, you know, so I don't tell Donny Yankees how to get these guys ready for a game, but we did it my way tonight.  I wanted them to have their strength...had a baked macaroni and cheese here and chicken parmesan.  And look at this post-game spread!  Dave, lemme take one of those garlic breads home.  Yeah, so Donny - better get a picture of this.  What - he left?  Typical.  All right, you wanna hear a story?

Back in '82, we were battlin' the Atlanta Braves down to the wire for the division.  Ask Bowie Kuhn what the hell they were doing in the West, but...so we snap a big losing streak, and beat Atlanta to cut it to 1 game.  Bert Hooten gets the win and we won big.  I'm trying to rally everybody, and keep our spirits up.  We needed it.  Then Scioscia comes up to me and says Rafael Ramirez was yammerin' about something when we were celebrating on the field.  So what?  He got picked off twice, but I don't care if that's why he was sore.  I could tell it bugged Mike, so much so I stopped eating my post-game meal, and went over to the Braves locker room.

(Lasorda is given a cup of gelato)


They're going about their business and I can tell I caught them off guard.  Before Torre can say anything, I get in Ramirez's face and say "Knock off this bullshit with Scioscia."  He stands up and says "I ain't got no bullshit with him - they were bad calls."  Can you believe that guy?  So I get in his face and say "You got San Diego tomorrow - just for that, I bet you won't even get on base!"  He went 1 for 8 against the Padres.  Ah...we coulda done it in '82.

All right, you better clear out the bathroom...

A hard act to follow

The Dodge are playing spirited of late, defeating teams they should.  This would all mean something, of course, if they 1. weren't so bad most of the year and 2. Arizona would just quit this "win all the time" bullshit.  It's likely a lost cause, but it's refreshing to see them try.  Just by calling yourself a professional, and describing yourself as such to others, you sweep San Diego.  That's what happens when effort is put forth.  (As a wise man once said, "Life sucks, then you manage the Padres.")

Ignoring the near-loss at Pittsburgh today, there was a stat in one SD game that should be on the Failure Blog...but they're the Padres.  It was Tuesday night's starting pitcher, Tim Stauffer.  How was your night, guy?

IP: 1.2
H: 1
R: 7
ER: 7
W: 7  (SEVEN WALKS?!)
K: 2

As the 2nd inning lumbered on, Vin was polite to say "Tim can't throw a strike if he wanted to.  And he does...oh boy."  Tim was pulled at 4-0, and bases loaded.  "Anthony Bass" came in for "relief" a served a meat-a-ball to Andre Either.  WEOMP.  8-0 and that'll do.

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It wouldn't be a Dodger update without some news about Slimey McSlime...who today received a $1.2 Billion offer for the team.  It is a bid that is ALL CASH, and grossly over the value of the team.  Bid did I say cash, the one thing McSlime needs?  This bid comes from the founder of the LA Marathon, and a company from "The Peoples Republic of China."  Sure. 

Whoever ends up owning this team would be wise to do so in full.  Knowing how he works, if he's left a portion of team, it will only be collateral in yet another sleazeball deal: 

"No problem!  I can open up a surfboard shop in Burlington, Vermont.  I just need this loan to follow through.  Come on, I own the Dodgers parking lot!  You know I'm good for it!"

Fucking sleaze.

"Penne with Meatballs and Garlic Bread"

(Baseball legend Tommy Lasorda was so exuberant on a flight from St. Louis to Los Angeles that he requested a Dictaphone...so sure that wisdom would flow freely from his mouth.  It was the least we could do.)

I'm tellin' ya - that's the way we gotta play.  I mean, we're fucking it up on this road trip, and then we put it all together. 

(Mr. Lasorda went to the bathroom, returning 15 minutes later)

I told Donny Yankees that we'd do a lot more damage around here if he'd grow that mustache again.  But this is a big achievement for us.  Every time someone tells us we've done something we haven't done since I was manager, it's a big deal.  (belch)  Excuse me...yeah, turn up the air on that one.  Sweepin' the Cards...

Come on...Colorado, San Diego, a make-up with the Pirates?!  That's nothing.  Whoop - forgot to turn off my phone.  Hey - that's a text message from Dave Pearson... look what he's making for us when we return. 

Hey, Kemp...don't throw that away...it's still half full of pretzels.  Gimme those.

(Hours later)

Dave! 

So good to see you.  I tell you, those long flights really wear me out.  I'm starving.  OK, quit that recording thing or whatever.

(Mr. Lasorda then told a story in which he tossed a scrap of garlic bread to a horse at Del Mar in 1986 and "it placed at 12-1 odds.")

This Team Is Boring

Folks, we're tip-toein' into the Dark Days here...

I just sat for 10 minutes trying to come up with a catchy title to this post to somehow reflect how I feel about this Twins team.  I wanted it to convey how much I hate Matt Crapps, how piss-poor the decisions of the front office have been, how utterly awful in every facet of the game the entire team has been... but then, just like watching the Twins this season, that became boring.  I literally zoned out and stared at the white background of the preview window.  And that, in a nutshell, is the Twins season.

Boring.  Holy god, the Twins are boring this year.  I can't tell you how many times I've just simply not been aware the Twins are playing this summer.  Countless nights I have driven home, happily listening to talk radio instead of their radio broadcasts.  They were on Fox a few weeks ago, and I read on the porch instead.  I READ.  A BOOK.

 Allow me to quote from an email I sent to Mr. Bliznewski on May 24, 2007.  Now, this was in the context of a conversation about the Wolves (little did we know that a certain someone would be traded two months later, thus ending the ability of that team to ever compete again, ever), but I needed some reference point for what was happening, so I turned, as I often do, to the Twins:

I'm a solutions person.  I don't like to sit around
and see things fucked up and not do anything.  I need
to have some goal, some light at the end of the
tunnel.  For the Twins, this light is the years
between 2008-2011, when His Holiness Joe Mauer hits
his prime, as does The Son Francisco Liriano, not to
mention the continued domination of His Highness Johan
Santana.  Those will be GOOD YEARS.  And if we have to
suck a lil prick this season, no problem.  Because
everything's going to get better from now until we're
34 years old.

And, that's that.

Well, you can't say I missed with my predictions.  2008-2011 DID indeed represent a sort of "peak" among the organization, it just wasn't the peak we hoped for.  Santana had to go away because he needed too much money, and that's ok.  Liriano hasn't been consistent since his arm detached from his body, and he never will be again.  He threw a no-hitter against the White Sox, but I think I could do that tomorrow, if needed.

The point is that this peak has come and gone, and now begins the slow slide.  At least in 2007, I could objectively look at what was coming on the horizon and find legitimate reason to be optimistic.  Sure, Lew Ford featured prominently in the offense at that time.  But there were whispers and reports of a man called "Span" roaming the minor leagues, just waiting for his shot.  There was also a stable of young arms, and draft picks seemed to be working out for the most part.  Spending was kept low, there was a new stadium on the horizon, and it all seemed to be coming up Millhouse.

The cupboard is now bare, people.

The best pitcher in the minor leagues has a wonky elbow.  The position players have all been tapped, and they suck.  Luke Hughes, Trevor Plouffe, Matt Tolbert.  They all suck.  The Twins went out and signed a Japanese short stop... he turns out to suck at baseball.  They get a good year out of Thome, then overpay him and watch him suck.  Kubel hits a peak, but will be gone because he's too expensive.  They give Joe the big contract, he starts to suck, then they TRADE the best hitter they have in the minor leagues, who just happens to be a catcher.  This results in Drew Butera starting many games.  Justin Morneau will never be the same.  There are absolutely no other players in the minor leagues worth a damn.  None.  "Who's the next right fielder?"  Nobody.  He'll be below replacement level.

We all know what happened monetarily... the Twins suddenly were able to spend huge amounts of money and forgot how to develop players.  I was worried that it would happen, and then it happened.  We became Houston.

And so, here we are.  A boring team that is going to get worse before it gets better.  A team with few tradeable pieces, and no support in the minor leagues.  An aging team that has regressed almost across the board.  And a front office that will likely try to spend their way out of this mess, and end up like the White Sox.  If I was to write a similar email to Mr. Driznewski now (and the parts about the Wolves would be the exact same, I guarantee you), I would likely proclaim that I don't envision the Twins being good again until I turn 40.

Oh god, that's depressing.

Saints be praised, we got to play Houston

And this is Sister Mary Arabian, Mr. Lasorda.

Thank you, sister.  Again, I want to say that after that aggravating series against the Phillies, the heavens sent the Astros here to help right our ship.  By sweeping them, we're ready to get back on the road.

Mr. Lasorda, we were reading about them before meeting you.  It sounds as if God has chosen to smite them this season.

Yeah, I guess so.  But you don't get into heaven without being a Dodger fan.  Or, with a bullpen like Houston's.  But Sister, between you and me, can you put in a good word for our road trip?  I think we got an outside chance.

I'm not a miracle worker, Mr. Lasorda.  (laughter)

(to self) Cristo, tutti un commediante.

Harry loves nachos!

"I'm tired of doing my job today."

This was the thought that was going through the mind of Jerry Meals last night. 

"It's a LONG day at the office for everyone...so I'm selfish.  I guess us umpires already aren't selfish enough, now is a time as good as any.  But I'm not like a lazy cop who considers a small theft "petty crime" because "I pulled a double shift." I want sleep.  Whoever gets closest to home next wins."

If you saw it live, saw the replay, or saw a photograph, you saw something so obvious that it almost destroyed your mind that it could be called that way.  Hell...even the home plate umpire at the infamous 2002 all-star game called the last pitch a strike...he could have let Bud get another at-bat.  But those were different times.

The great Cosell once called baseball (and this was in the mid-70s, mind you) "a game belonging to William of Orange."  Aside from the comedic touch, he also said baseball was "a game of the nineteenth century."  Which it is, and one that is dragged kicking and screaming to the present and the future.  Since there was no television in 1897, thus no instant replay, we can't have it now.  So instead of saving someone face....instead of making sure correct calls fill the game (allowing the players performance to make the difference) we watch horribly bizarre call after horribly bizarre call.

It's pointless to argue close calls.  There's enough of those in life each day.  "That fucking mom in the mini-van isn't even on the fucking road!"  It is the calls that are so clear, and then you see someone who is supposed to be a professional just shit all over home plate.  And I don't care about the Pirates or Braves.  You probably don't, either.  But you DO assume that an important game involving a team that interests you will include competent umpiring, regardless of the length or nature of the game.  But don't tell that to the umpires - it's not their job to get it right all the time.  They don't have to!  Don't tell Bud, either.  It's hard enough trying to decide what tie you'll wear each day.

Shit...don't say "tie" to Bud Selig.

If this man was the manager of your team, you probably wouldn't like that team very much

The best part about this whole video? Right at the very end:

"And Danks pitched well"

Nice. Way to sneak that compliment in there.

Bring him out of the basement!

We are all Delmon Young

Time for a stretch

(During the All-Star Break, the Writer's Guild Theater in Beverly Hills had a screening of The Bad News Bears, which was hosted by baseball legend Tommy Lasorda.  After the screening, Mr. Lasorda opened the floor to questions.)

"Yeah.  You know, I was the Dodgers 3rd base coach when this came out.  And I think it's just the greatest thing to have kids play baseball, like that guy said.  Of course, we were surprised to hear the kids talking like us!  By the way - setting this film here in LA shows how much...(belch) excuse me."

(A question is asked about Walter Matthau playing a manager)

"I thought he did a fantastic job.  And by the way, if you think getting kids to play your way isn't easy, try getting grown men to listen to you instead of screwing around.  In Albuquerque, when I managed there, you got a lotta guys trying to make it to the big leagues.  Once I got up here, I realized that a lot of these guys think they have it made and can do whatever the hell they want.  I'm sorry...whatever they want."

(Terry Crowley writer Trip Darvez asked a question about the Pizza Hut bar scene)

"Wait a minute!  I know this guy.  You've probably never read his...blog, or whatever.  Trip Darnell or whatever.  He wrote about how bad we are.  Let me tell you something - we went into this break winning 4 in a row!  Shoved those Padres back in the basement.  Let's hope Mr. Yankees has an idea of what he's doing now!  Otherwise, and believe me when I say this, I'm gonna do what I gotta do."

(crowd applauds)

An actual nightmare of mine

The other night this "dream" came to me as I slept.  It sums things up.

In the dream, I had organized some sort of Dodgers "Fan Fest."  Even in the dream I knew this was to drum up interest about the team despite 1. awful play and 2. waiting for an ownership change to follow through.  So, whatever, I walking around this fair, and who comes up to me but Frank McCourt.  "Thank you for setting this up - it will really help the team."  My dream mind is racing on what to tell this fuck, but before I say anything to him, he says "Here - this is for you.  Thanks again."  It's cash.  He walks away.

My dream mind reeling, I take a few steps and try to collect myself.  I look down to see what cash he gave me. 

Two $25 dollar bills.

Even my dream brain knew there's no such thing...and as I thought "What a slimeball!  He gave me fake money?!" I awoke.  In life real, and during brain movies, Frank McCourt is a fucking sleaze.

Oh, and the Dodgers?  More like Dogshits.

(Excuse me, Mr. Lasorda?)

Tommy, I was wondering if I could...Tommy?  Just one question.  I thank you for visiting our restaurant this afternoon.  What did you think of the food?

 

Thank you, sir!  I'll be sure to get you more napkins.

Accepting Adjustments: Tommy Does Minnesota, Day 2

 

Hello again, baseball fans!  I'm writing this late after the second game here in Minnesota.  My wisdom to you today is about the adjustments life brings to you, and having to deal with them.  As you can see in this photo, Dodger Hall of Famer Sandy Koufax joined us in the ballpark for the pregame meal.  That will play into the adjustments I had to deal with today.

I was enjoying a trout dog and beer with Sandy and others I allowed from the ball club to attend this trip, and naturally all talk was on the bankruptcy hearing this afternoon.  I didn't want the headache (or indigestion) so I told the reporters to can it.  So I'm telling these reporters some stories, and nearly all of them look like they want to give me a run for the banquet table.  Then this old guy walks up...looks like he's struggling, but he's ignoring everyone else.  Before I can ask him if he's OK, he shoves a Dictaphone in my face.  I think his name was Sid Hawthorne.  Anyhow, he starts in on how we know each other from way back.  I told him I meet tons of people each day, and I haven't been to Minnesota in a while.  Then he has the fucking nerve to say that if Jim Kaat didn't do this or that in game 7 of the 1965 World Series, the Twins would have won.  First of all, and I say this to you but you already know, do not interrupt my eating.  Secondly, I was a scout then...what does he want from me?  Maybe if Billy Martin managed the Twins, they would have beat the Dodgers!  Maybe if Slim Fast made a pasta sauce, I'd still be svelte. 

Anyhow, it was a tough loss for the Dodgers tonight, but the Twins bullpen looked sharp.  But there was another adjustment.  I was annoyed by that reporter, and upset with the loss, so I was looking forward to some BBQ.  Which should it be?  Rudolph's or Famous Dave's?  Everyone had their opinion.  But, Sandy wanted to go out to eat after the game, too.  Now, it wouldn't be polite to enjoy all those BBQ pork ribs in front of Sandy, even though he says it doesn't bother him.  So, I made an adjustment and we went to Murray's Steak House.  What an excellent choice!  I had the strip sirloin steak, and true to form, I used my butter knife.  They gave me some shit for bringing in one of my award winning wines, but they accommodated Sandy and I all the same.  Sandy had the herb roasted chicken and, well, that's where another adjustment comes in.

I had come up with a good combination: bite of steak, bite of garlic toast, sip of wine.  Just then that Hawthorne guy comes up to our table, saying "I knew I'd find you here.  I told you to go here."  Well, I said "Not only did you not say that to me, this is the second time today you've interrupted my meal."  I'm trying to get the attention of the waiter, but at the same time I knew the steak was starting to get cold.  Then Hawthorne says that he had some long conversation about me to Fay Vincent when I was working with CBS at the 1991 World Series.  So what?  "I told him you should be commissioner."  What a load of shit!  Well, by the time they finally tossed this goof out of there, my steak, while delicious, was cold.  I was torn.  Remember what I've always said: Never Waste Food.  I had a hot fudge sundae while I had the chefs figure out what to do with the rest of the steak.  I have no need to bring it back to the hotel, but I don't want it to be tossed out.  So as we're leaving, I overhear the waiter say that Hawthorne guy wanted to have the rest of it!  The nerve of that jerk!

Gotta get to sleep - day game tomorrow, and then off to Rudolph's! 

An embarassment of riches! - Tommy Does Minnesota, Part 1

(Editor's Note: Baseball legend Tommy Lasorda is in Minneapolis for the Dodgers/Twins series.  We've asked him to write a summary each day on his visit)

Well, I know this might not be the right thing to do as this is a Twins "blog" but I needed a win like that.  The Dodgers needed a win like that, and so did the fans.  Folks, I never expected to hear that the Dodgers would be bankrupt!  Sure, with Frank sleazing around town it might have been inevitable, but in my heart of hearts, I didn't think it would happen.  And I bleed Dodger Blue, as you know.

Ironically, I heard the news as I was touring Target Field.  What a fantastic ballpark!  The fans of Minnesota deserved such a place, and it must feel good knowing that your team isn't on the auction block.  Huh?  Oh, it was?  That's right, it was.  Well, (clears throat) I did my best on a tour of the stadium.  Some highlights included the steak sandwich, which was really wonderful.  The Cuban sandwiches were all right, but remember, I was in Cuba for a while.  Plus, outside of me, who would order that?

The length of the game, I was thinking of where to celebrate the victory.  I needed a pick-me-up.  So, whadda ya say we head to David Fong's?  I actually got kind of screwed up here, because some old scouts were telling me about Howard Wong's, but we can't find out where it is.

How about that, Mr. Lasorda?!  Four hits!  My best game ever!  Great win!










Yeah, thanks...who are you?







Trent Oletjen...I played Right tonight.







Right, yeah!  (nervously looks around)







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Well folks, I'm back at the hotel to give you more of a recap.  It really was a fantastic night.  I don't want to rub it in, but let me give you a stat rundown of this performance!

1 Fong's House Chicken
1 Shrimp Hong Kong (Lopes liked that one)
1 Beef Chow Mein
1 Combo Lo Mein (reminds me of pasta!)
They even let me bring in my own bottle of wine!

See you tomorrow night!