In early October, I took a road trip around the southwest – one which happened to coincide with the Wild Card game between the Los Angeles Dodgers and St. Louis Cardinals. While I wouldn’t traditionally call myself a Dodgers fan, I’ve had fond feelings for the team for many years- no doubt helped by the fact that Vin Scully was basically my default MLB.tv viewing experience until he retired. Add to that the fact that I like a lot of Dodgers past and present (with one big exception) and it all combines to make it very easy for me to root for the team. So when it became clear that the timing of a previously-planned trip would allow me to catch the NL Wildcard game, wherever it landed, I paid especially close attention to the settling of the NL race. As the days ticked away and the standings tightened, I realized I was specifically hoping I’d get to see the Dodgers play in L.A. I could have just as easily attended a Giants game in San Francisco- but I was hoping for L.A.
This was my second game at Dodger Stadium – the first being an early season matchup against the Colorado Rockies in 2012. That was a competitive game, and one that also ended in a late-inning victory for the Dodgers, but to say Harang vs Nicasio in May lacked the tension of Scherzer vs. Wainwright in game 163 would be a masterclass in understatement.
Attending baseball games is a feature of most of my road trips. I’ve been to dozens of ballparks among all levels of pro ball, and until the pandemic slowed my travels, I could count on adding at least a few to that total each year. Those dozens of parks help make up the hundreds of games I’ve seen. Among those games, I’ve seen a few walk off victories, and some fantastic team and individual performances. But what happened ten days ago was special.
I focused the entire L.A. leg of my trip around the game, even altering my meal plans to allow for the anticipated consumption of as many Dodger Dogs as I saw fit (the only disappointment of the night was when the nearest condiment stand was out of both ketchup and mustard and instead of searching for another stand, I opted to take my dry dog back to my seat in lieu of missing the top of the 6th). Despite getting stuck with an underwhelming and naked dog, every other part of my first postseason game exceeded my wildest expectations.
The dream 
The reality
I was rooting hard for the Dodgers from the first pitch. Nervousness at Max Scherzer’s faulty command heightened when Tommy Edman scored on a wild pitch in the first, and persisted as the Dodgers failed time and time again [thanks to sterling St. Louis defense and Adam Wainwright doing his age-defying thing] to capitalize on the few L.A. runners who reached base. By the time they advanced to the NLDS via Chris Taylor’s 2-run walk off shot into the left field bleachers, I was yelling exuberantly with everyone near me. It felt great to be a small part of something special. That feeling is coming back just as I’m writing this- it was that amazing. In the selfie I took (I know…) I was wearing the hat I purchased during that 2012 visit, with a big grin under my paper mask. Yes, I’ve been to Busch Stadium, and yes, I have a Cards hat from that trip. When I don’t otherwise have a rooting interest, I root root root for the home team. So sue me. But this was not a home-team-by-default situation – which in hindsight, has caused me some discomfort – like I was doing something wrong.
Being from a town that has traditionally been viewed as “minor league” in the eyes of baseball (if it has been viewed at all) – I’ve always felt like I’m a bit of a free agent as a baseball fan. My far and away favorite team is the Oakland A’s, which is currently in the process of alienating its fanbase in an attempt to either extort the city of Oakland into handing them a multi-billion dollar real estate deal while simultaneously threatening to bolt for suburban Las Vegas if that deal doesn’t come to pass. The other team I usually watch and for whom I consider myself a fan is the Washington Nationals- which ended the season as a very respectable Triple-A club.
My A’s fandom came from a childhood love of Rickey Henderson, Jose Canseco, Dave Stewart, and Dennis Eckersley – none of whom have suited up for Oakland any time in this century. It rose organically after an initial fandom of convenience- the Minnesota Twins – a result of their affiliation with the Portland Beavers of my youth. My Nats fandom came from initially following the Expos. Looking back, I think I gravitated to them because they were an NL version of the A’s- a threadbare organization in a crummy ballpark, perennially losing its homegrown stars. While the Nats are now rebuilding, they’ve shown a willingness to spend big on players- something that never happened in Montreal, and something that is decidedly foreign to Oakland.
The A’s will tell anyone who listens that they simply have no choice but to put together their roster using duct tape and bailing wire, citing baseball’s economic model and the limitations imposed on them by their ballpark. This is an insulting lie, just as it is when its uttered by any other major league team. There are no poor teams or poor owners in the Major Leagues, only poor excuses.
So why do fans feel the requirement to “stick with their team” when that team shows no shred of the same loyalty and tries only half-heartedly to improve, and only after allowing star after star to leave, time and time again? I know I’m an outsider, and I understand the equation likely feels different for someone who lives in Oakland, but why should it? Aside from convenience and familiarity, why should allegiance be tied to geography? As fans, we feel a sense of ownership in a team only to eventually realize who really owns who when we’re needed for leverage. The more I consider this question, the more I question my own feelings on the matter.
If I lived in L.A., I’d unabashedly love the Dodgers. They’re a major market team and they act like it. They play in a fantastic ballpark wearing incredible jerseys. All the while they spend money, develop players, trade for stars, and subsequently extend the contracts of those stars. In other words, they try to win every damn year, in every way possible. Every fan should expect their teams to do the same.
Both of my visits to Dodger Stadium have exceeded my expectations. I had a great time in 2012, and an unbelievable time this year. I prefer baseball when I have a rooting interest, and this season I’m definitely hoping the Dodgers repeat as champs. Does that mean my allegiances are shifting? I don’t know. But if they did, would any objective person blame me? I suspect baseball, and major league sports in general, would be far better off if the worst of their teams didn’t presume that they had a ‘ride or die’ fan base, who will continue to bend over backwards for what in any other aspect of life would be considered an abusive relationship.