It was at a Dodger Opening Day game in the mid-70s that my Little League organizers took a bunch of us fledgling superstars to Dodger Stadium one sunny afternoon to witness the kick start of a new season. Baseball opening days are always full of splendor and hope; they are like birth. I was a fanatical baseball fan. I loved the game, and I loved the Dodgers. Mid-70s Dodgers were all about Steve Garvey, Davey Lopes, Bill Russell and Ron Cey, the most durable and dependable infield to grace the diamond in ages before, or since. I remember listening to Dodger games on the radio in the waning heat of typical Summer evening as Vin Scully belted out his unmatchable play-by-play. On this Opening Day we trudged off to the game, me and the other boys. Our Little League “leaders” bought us seats in the left field pavilion, which in those days were “dry” and cheap. Now you can buy beer there I hear, and nothing at Dodger Stadium is cheap.
I was clumsy then. Some things don’t change. As most 10-year-old boys are prone to do, I became a little restless and fidgety and during the middle of the game I accidentally kicked over the soda belonging to one of two 35-ish black dudes sitting in the row in front of us. The black dude was not angry or mean but he firmly told me I would have to pay for it. He just told me that. “You spilled my soda, I want you to pay me back.” I was fucking scared and luckily one of the coaches, I believe his name was Israel (he had a lame eye and a gnarly moustache, kinda rough guy), turned around (he was also sitting in the same row as the soda incident), dug into his pocket without getting up, and gave the guy some money without uttering a word. Seamlessly and quietly. Unruffled. The black dude took the money and our business was done. Honorable in its strange way. (FYI, it was a very Alpha move, the way Israel deported himself). This is how Dodger Stadium was in the 1970’s. I remember these days through a foggy haze of not-so-distant antiquity, like watching a 1970’s flashback made for the modern screen and the way the director will diffuse the frames to denote the passage of 30 or 40 years. That’s how I remember Dodger games. It would be delusional to pretend they were the highest form of wholesome family entertainment because obviously they weren’t. Fans still drank and cussed and even fought…but you came away from the finished game with a fond sense of fun and never felt as if your life was in random danger because you rooted for the wrong team or instigated someone’s inexplicable dislike. Dodger games were a multi-cultural event much like they are today. Asian fans weren’t as common then, but with the entrance of Korean and Japanese players into MLB, you even see a lot of Asians now. I think they sold sushi at one of the games I went to in recent years. Around 1990 I began to lose interest in baseball, and sports in general. I stopped following the Dodgers or Vin Scully and MLB essentially dropped off my map. Only recently I’ve noticed with dismay that the Dodger organization and franchise seem to have inadvertently found themselves drawing the “skinhead” crowd. You know, those mini-gangster Hispanic mafioso urban guys with shaved heads, sagging jeans, white sneakers and Dodger jerseys and caps. This demographic seemed to have fulfilled the void left by the departed Los Angeles Raiders and company. Now you have these clowns roiling the concrete aisles of Dodger stadium, acting out, drinking, being violent hoodlums ready to fight at the drop of a hat. On any normal evening during the baseball season, I can drive home from work on a game day and as I drive east from Dodger Stadium/Silver Lake, I pass a bunch of cars headed toward Dodger Stadium from the Eastside. The cars are all full of skinheaded Dodger aficianados looking to go make a splash in Chavez Ravine. They all look alike, dress alike, act alike. It’s like an invading army.
A heated rivalry between Dodger fans and Giant fans has taken root. The last game I attended was a Giant game and I watched as a bunch of Dodger blue-clad fanboys began shouting down a a couple of unfortunate Giant fans. It was a verbal barrage of epic proportions and threatened to spill over into an escalated sense of ghetto anarchy, but luckily the passions died down as the Giant fans wisely slipped away.
Now some of this classy Dodger behavior spilled out into the after-game festivities and shout-downs after last night’s game. Apparently, some Giant fans from the Bay Area were walking to their car after the Dodger win and became embroiled in a one-sided verbal altercation with some faceless Dodger fans. The mysteriously invisible guys attacked the Giant fans and one of them fell to the ground, struck the back of his head on the ground, and was kicked unconscious. He is currently in a medically-induced coma in order to deal with cerebral swelling. He is identified as Bryan Stow, a paramedic and father of two from Santa Cruz. I glanced through several news reports and I found it interesting that nowhere is the race of the attackers mentioned. After a Dodger game, in the parking lot…c’mon, there were tons of witnesses and I’m sure the police were given a detailed description. Why is info not made known to the media? Or was it? Where is the information breakdown and whose agenda is at play?
Let’s be real. I would put my money on it. What the media and police haven’t told us: the attackers were Hispanic baldies, probably wearing Dodger jerseys and loaded on whatever crappy cheap light beer sells at the concession stand. I glanced through these stories and no mention is made of the attacker’s race.
KTLA (local television station).
No mention is made of the race of the suspects in any of these stories. The Detective quoted, Larry Burcher, says police have nothing to work on. Isn’t race an important physical descriptor in the quest to apprehend and capture the suspects? Why the news black out?
Funny, the news outlet which comes closest to capturing the mindless spirit of the Hispanic hoodlum usurpation of the Dodger fanboy banner is Univision’s Los Angeles outlet. They posted a video as a supplemental feature attached to the attack story (incidentally leaving out the race as well). The video feature, while in Spanish, is nevertheless full of images and sounds for those of you not versed in the bilingual gloriousness of our beautiful multicultural dystopia!
Amusing stuff. A video demonstrating the guttural, street-level ghetto debauchery of a typical Dodger game on a warm evening airs on a Spanish language television outlet; a perspective which is entirely eschewed from the English language outlets because to indict drunken Dodger fans is to indict great swaths of Hispanics. We Mexicans know better than anyone how badly we act out when we’ve had too much of la chela. We don’t need the American media turning a blind eye to racial truths, it doesn’t do anyone good and looks like a pathetic attempt at willy-nilly appeasement. And lets our worst behavior off the hook.
(I think the bulldyke, Daysi, can probably kick my ass.)
POSTSCRIPT (April 2) : Yep. Composite sketches released. Shaved heads, tattoos and an obligatory female enabler.
Today from KTLA
Two Hispanic males, a female getaway driver, and a child in the car. Doesn’t get any more stereotypical, does it?