GUEST POST: Turned and Burned or: One Man’s Lament About Missing the Second Biggest Dodger Game of the Year

SOSG Todd -  author of A Very Pleasant Good Evening -  provided us the following requiem about his Sophie's Choice to miss a Dodger game that may have been scheduled specifically for him.  Read on, SOSG-slingers.
   

Greetings from the Northwoods of Wisconsin. I’m writing this little missive on my computer in a cozy, woods adjacent guesthouse that’s about half a mile from the nearest wifi signal.   While I feel myself growing more Unabomber by the day, “going to town” to check email has helped stave off the effects of willingly spending three weeks without cable. 

Except there was one recent email from the Sons’ own Big Daddy Delino that nearly pushed me to the edge of the envelope. Its subject was to the point and took a negative-g dive straight to my heart: how are you missing this?!?!?  The body of the email contained no pleasantries. Only a link to get tickets for Movie Night at Dodger Stadium. 

Back when my wife and I booked our trip up here for a 4th of July blowout with a squadron of my cousins, I realized my rather flexible employment situation and the Dodgers’ schedule had come together in perfect harmony, like two best friends who can finish each other’s sentences and perfectly execute high fives that have a high degree of difficulty. 

I could stay for nearly a month and only miss four extra Dodger games. The ones I was really bummed about missing were Old Timer’s Day and Movie Night, which at the time was still just Movie Night but is always fun.  Then the grim truth was revealed. “Movie Night” was really “Hey Todd, We’re Going To Be Playing Your Absolute Favorite Movie of All-Time* While You’re Stuck in the Woods and Your Wife Won’t Let You Cut Your Vacation Short Because She Wants the House to Herself Night.” 
That’s right. Tonight’s post-game feature film at Dodger Stadium is Top Gun. 

And what am I going to be doing? 

Oh, just sitting here in this cable-free guesthouse NOT watching the Greatest Movie Ever Made* in arguably the most hallowed place you could ever watch it. But it’s cool, I’m still going to make a little party for myself. There’s a DVD player and an assortment of movies in the house. Maybe I’ll carve out some time to finally see what that Good Burger hype is all about or take a ride into the danger zone by watching Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 without having ever seen the first chapter. 

No really, I’ll be OK. You don’t have to worry about me following Goose’s dog tags into the depths of Somewhere in the Indian Ocean. I’d have to walk a good mile out into Chequamegon Bay to find deep enough water anyway.  I know Vin Scully won’t add to his legend as the Iceman of baseball by wearing a sweet pair of mirrored aviators when he welcomes fans to the game on DodgerVision. 

I know Chase Utley totally won’t go by the call sign Slider tonight.  I know A.J. Ellis would never walk up to “Take My Breath Away.”   And I know there’s no way Puig would ever serenade Alanna Rizzo with “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” when she interviews him after his walk-off hit. 


That’s right. I just called the ball.   Y’all have fun tonight while I’m playing with my boys Ed, Dexter, and Paul B. Heck we might even get a little beach volleyball game going. Sundown doesn’t happen until 10 up here. 

*Top Gun’s status as the greatest movie ever made excludes any of the films that comprise the original Star Wars trilogy. 

Thank you for sharing your sadness and regret, Todd.   It's not too late for you reading this - tickets still available for today's game / Top Gun screening.   Though I'd rather wait until Dodger Stadium screens this far more worthy aerial adventure.... 

Guest Article: Triple Play Hipster

He's a Cornhusker fan. He MCd my own personal roast (even though he wasn't invited). He's performed stand up comedy next to a dart board WHILE IT WAS BEING USED. He's suffered in the mire of Wrigley before discovering the light of the Dodgers. And he's been drug free since halfway through this guest article. Ladies and gentlemen: SuperFan and Iron Sheik Sympathizer, SOSG TODD.

Having been reared on sports induced heartbreak, I’ve always been more of a condolence giver than a smack talker. Even on that one weekend a season when our own #ineedmydelino reverts back to being a Mets fan, I tried to be gracious and supporting of his horrible life decision by sending him the following text from the reserve level last Sunday afternoon.

“Picked a bad Mets game to miss.”

Two days later he replied back. (Editor's Note: If it's the choice between texting Todd and staring at the wall, well there's no choice at all.)

“Seriously. Triple Play. “

“Big deal. Already saw one of those this season.”

And with that text, I cemented my unfortunate status as a triple play hipster.

In just under two months I’ve personally witnessed 22% of the triple plays turned against the Dodgers since they became the Los Angeles Dodgers. As first year as full-fledged season ticket holders, there have been some historic moments to witness at the stadium. Was I there for Ryu’s deep run at perfection? Nope. I was at a Memorial Day BBQ hiding in the bathroom staring at my phone until the Reds strung together some hits in the 8th inning.

Was I there for Kershaw’s gem? Nope. Watched that one from the couch because I was “too exhausted” from going to the ravine the previous three nights. Vin on the TV from start to finish (thank you Time Warner) made missing that one much more bearable.

Thanks to Puig’s base running gaffes (or well-intentioned aggressiveness, depending on your world view), I’m now immune to anything bad that can ever happen to Dodgers offensively.
Thank you Puig for being the rattlesnake to my Billy Jack.

While I can’t guarantee you can develop immunity as quickly as I did, I made a handy guide to help you cope should you ever get to witness a triple play in-person.

Stages of reacting to a triple play:

1. Momentary Confusion (If a replay review IS involved.)

The first notch in Puig’s triple play belt was thanks to Terry Francona coming out of the dugout to argue he was out at second after tagging up from first. Because of the excitement of a bang-bang play at the plate, it took a moment for those of us in the stands to do the math and realize that a triple play was at stake. Once we did, it was a nervous few minutes while we awaited word from New York. Donnie Baseball coming out to argue that Gordon was safe at home really botched what could have been a somewhat quick execution at the hand of the ump.

-or-

1. Shock (If a replay review is NOT involved.)

Sunday’s triple play wasn’t so much painful as it was disappointing. As in your grandpa told you he was disappointed in you- the absolute worst form of disappointment on the planet. Sure, getting a potentially game changing rally snuffed out by a double play is a bummer, but seeing Puig fly around third only to be dead to rights at home with half a mile to go left the entire crowd speechless.

After confirming what happened really happened with those around you, move to step 2.

2. RAGE!!!

If you have the strength to rip your seat from the concrete by all means do. And don’t be shy about chucking it on the field.

Guest Article: "Changes to the Dirt Bag Parking Section"

From longtime SoSG-a-maniac "Todd"

Hemmed in by yesterday's CicLAvia, we had to take the long way to the stadium which made for a nice warm up of getting stuck in Clipper traffic downtown. Even so, we arrived in only 45 minutes (not bad for a 12 mile drive) which meant we'd have a full hour and a half to check out all the new stadium upgrades before the first pitch.
As we hung a left onto Stadium Way, I boldly said to my wife, "Can't wait to see how great our free parking spot is." Before those ill-fated words even finished falling out of my mouth, we realized we were doomed. Doomed all the way down into the far off, yet welcoming, bosom of Elysian Park- something that only ever happens when the Yankees are in town.

SERIOUSLY - PARKING LIKE THIS MAKES YOU MR BURNS LEVEL EVIL

Nearing the end of our nearly mile long slog, we realized the culprit. It wasn't die-hard Lupe Fiasco fans. Nope, Boylston Street had suddenly become a no parking zone. Thanks to one lone sign on an orange cone, half of Dodger Stadium's complimentary parking was wiped from the map.

Was this a temporary Opening Weekend policy? Hard to say but the zip-tie lashing the sign to the cone looked like it was in it for the long haul. Plan on arriving extra early if you want that free parking.

Thank you to the Cornhusking Todd for the friendly warning. I used to be the king - or at least, court jester - of the street parking. But no more. A sign of reaching my fourth decade - I don't mind shelling out the $10 if it saves me some walking.

At-Game Recap:

When is a victory not a victory? Even with allegiances that lean to the other coast, there was very little to crow about. (Sure, two three-hitters in a row is nice to witness, but against these Dodgers it just feels cruel.)

Didn't stop the Gameday experience from being Grade A. Though I had to wait for two innings till Delino Jr. woke up.

Thankfully, the always welcome sight of SoSG's third favorite Nebraskan TODD got me ready for the game.

Thanks to the generosity of a family friend, the seats were even better than the mighty Sax's. Not to mention, I got to sit with an actual female SoSG Reader (!) who also roots for the NY Giants (!!). Todd and I were close enough to heckle, but with our host in attendance, kept it classy.

Speaking of SoSG's ninth favorite Son, Sax's snack of choice gave me pause. And more than a little bit of nausea.

Yes, those are crickets. Sax is a mensch, and offered them to everyone sitting nearby. I'm a mensch as well, and avoided retching until I was out of sight.

The commentary of the game ranged from the Academy Award chances of "TED," the massive surge in attendance anytime to the Dodgers give away trinkets, Elvis being a poor substitute for the Don't Stop Believing Guy and this newest costumed wannabe in the Loge.

There was also a game, which apparently was news to the Dodgers. To say there's a lack of energy or drive on this team barely covers it. Mental errors. Nothing resembling a hit. And when will Dee Gordon learn how to lay down a frikkin' bunt. Or as Todd now labels him "Commissioner (of Suck) Gordon."

Look for me tomorrow, getting my Hello Kitty on in whatever seats I can get that are not Reserve or Top Deck, wearing my Mets cap while using my son as a shield.