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> SEPTEMBER 2005 September
30, 2005 - Padres
3, Dodgers 1
September
28, 2005 - Diamondbacks
4, Dodgers 3
September
27, 2005 - Diamondbacks
2, Dodgers 0
September
26, 2005 - Dodgers
9, Pirates 4
September
25, 2005 - Dodgers
9, Pirates 2
September
22, 2005 - Diamondbacks
7, Dodgers 4
September
20, 2005 - Diamondbacks
4, Dodgers 1
September
18, 2005 - Giants
5, Dodgers 3
September
15, 2005 - Dodgers
7, Giants 1
God would also like Paul DePodesta to heave himself out of a moving vehicle on the Santa Monica Freeway. DePodesta gave Drew $55 million knowing full well that the guy was nothing more than a cripple with a sweet swing. It's not as if DePodesta bought a Ferrari and got delivered a Hyundai. He bought a goddamn Hyundai... for $55 million dollars. When it breaks down on the side of the road after 43 miles, you can't be too surprised. J.D. Drew is disintegrating, and everyone on the planet knew it would happen. For a general manager who prides himself on understanding value, the Drew signing was simply irresponsible—not to mention the effect it'll likely have on Frank McCourt's willingness to ever again sign off on a large contract. Paul DePodesta needs to be held accountable. Actually, what he needs is to be sliced open. For every time Drew goes under the knife, Dr. Frank Jobe should operate on DePodesta. It's only fair. Drew has shoulder surgery? DePodesta has a disc replaced in his back. Drew has knee surgery? DePodesta gets some teeth pulled. Drew undergoes Tommy John surgery? DePodesta gets a nut removed. Tit for tat, Computer Boy. Tit for tat. September
14, 2005 - Rockies
8, Dodgers 7
Frankly, the game never should have been so close. With the Dodgers up 5-0 in the top of the 5th inning, D.J. Houlton loaded the bases with two out. Houlton had walked four, barely escaped jams all night, and looked very much like the mediocre pitcher he is. Yet, despite all of that, Jim Tracy left Houlton in the game so he could go five innings and be eligible for the win. Uh, what win? After a visit from Jim Colborn, Houlton immediately gave up a grand slam to Garrett Atkins, and just like that it was a 5-4 ballgame. And only then, of course, did Tracy walk out to the mound and pull Houlton. If Jim Tracy was an airline pilot and his plane was going down, he'd radio the tower... right after the nosedive into the ocean. "Tower, this is Jim Tracy. I'm swallowing water and there's an octopus on my face. Please advise." Making an ordinary loss even worse, of course, the Dodgers had to end the game with Jeff Kent in the on-deck circle for the second straight night. Oscar Robles fouls off a couple... works the count full... fans on their feet... tying run on base... Kent on deck... grounder to second. Pricks. September
12, 2005 - Dodgers
7, Rockies 0
Not exactly sure where we were going with that, but there was a point initially. It's a good bet it had something to do with the Dodgers, who have absolutely no business being five games out of first place. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that every time you come to peace with the idea that they're dead, they give you some reason to think twice. And then—against your better judgment—you do just that: you think twice. And what happens? They burn your ass real good. So you vow never to fall for it again. Never, ever again. But then she wears a low-cut top. That bitch. September
11, 2005 - Dodgers
7, Padres 3
September
10, 2005 - Dodgers
3, Padres 1
September
7, 2005 - Dodgers
9, Giants 8
Meanwhile, Cesar Izturis suddenly needs Tommy John surgery. Remember Cesar? He's the guy who led the league in hits for a couple months this season—and then went hitless for something like 280 at-bats. Only a Dodger could destroy their elbow while on the DL for a sore back. Friggin' comical. Originally thought to be out just a couple weeks, Izturis now figures to return sometime around the All-Star break next year—just in time for the Dodgers to launch another futile "Vote Cesar" campaign. September
6, 2005 - Dodgers
4, Giants 2
September
4, 2005 - Rockies
7, Dodgers 6
September
2, 2005 - Rockies
11, Dodgers 3
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With
two days left in the season, there's good and bad news for Dodger
fans. The good news is, well, there's two days left. The bad news
is, sadly, we're not so sure the Dodgers have enough steam to make
it to the end. They've lost 12 of the last 14, four in a row, and
have scored a total of six runs over those last four. Jeff Kent,
counting the seconds until he's flying headfirst off his dirtbike,
is just three for his last twenty-two. With Friday night's loss
to San Diego—their 90th loss of the season—the Dodgers
dropped to a sexy 20 games under .500, a mark usually reserved for
pieces of shit like the Rockies, Devil Rays, and Royals. It's pretty
safe to say that the Dodgers have joined that fecal-infested group,
officially becoming a complete piece of shit (albeit one that draws
three and a half million fans). Before the season, it was clear
the Dodgers were a weak team. But even we—the pillar of pessimism
and symbol of cynicism—couldn't have imagined that they'd be
this bad. What fan imagines Brian Myrow as a team's Semptember pinch-hitter
of choice? Brian Myrow shouldn't be selling cotton candy, let alone
pinch-hitting. But we're not here to pick on Myrow. That would be
unfair to the other 30 guys who deserve to be picked on. We'd pick
on them, too, but we're out of steam. And, truthfully, you can't
be upset at crappy players for being crappy. You've got to be upset
at a crappy GM for getting crappy players and thinking they wouldn't
be crappy, and a crappy owner with crappy finances who doesn't think
it's crappy to run a crappy organization even crappier by selling
a crappy product to not-so-crappy fans. Ah, crap.
When
Shawn Green's line drive hit Wilson Alvarez on the hand Wednesday
night, you knew that was it. One final pitch, one final stab at
a comebacker, and one final walk off the mound—trainer in tow.
Reacting to Green's shot with the gracefulness of a drunk plumber,
Alvarez flailed his left hand—sadly, his meatball-eating hand—right
into the path of the ball. A couple shakes of the arm and it was
clear that his cheese-filled career was over. You really hate to
see Wilson go out like that. If he's going to get hit with a ball,
it might as well hit him in the belly—now that would
have been the perfect exit. Speaking of exits, there may be another
one soon: that of our favorite dullard, Jim Tracy. It was reported
that Tracy—obviously proud of the way he's kept the Dodgers
out of last place—requested a contract extension from the team,
though it appears doubtful that the Dodgers will oblige. (Listen
to Paul DePodesta: "Although creative conflict is healthy,
it is critical to our vision for the GM/manger dynamic to have enough
consistent elements to move forward.") If the Dodgers don't
extend Tracy's contract, Mr. Personality might seek a job elsewhere
once the season is over. Seeking a job and getting a job are two
very different things, but if he's willing to opt out of his Dodger
contract so that he can take a 71-91 record into an interview, we're
not going to stand in his way. In fact, we'll personally give him
a ride to the interview. We'll provide the breath mints, a shoe
shine, and a print-out of Jason Grabowski's stats against righties.
Back
in December when Arte Moreno first announced that the Angels were
calling themselves the "Los Angeles Angels of Anahiem,"
everyone in L.A. had a fit. The City of Los Angeles had their team,
and they weren't about to let a moustached man from Orange County
use the City's name to make money. Turns out, though, this moustached
man from Orange County isn't just making money—he's making
friends, making a quality organization, and making the City of Los
Angeles think twice about what team they want to call their own.
Actually, the Dodgers have pretty much done that singlehandedly.
While the Angels clinched the A.L. West on Tuesday night, the Dodgers
got two hits. (To be exact, Hee Seop Choi got two hits.)
While Mike Scioscia, Mickey Hatcher, Alfredo Griffin, Steve Finley
and some guys who aren't former Dodgers whooped it up in Oakland,
Bryan Myrow grounded to first base. While Vladimir Guerrero sprayed
champagne on reporters half his size, Ricky Ledee flied out. While
people traded their blue for red in the City of Angels, Willy Aybar
popped up to end the game. (It figures, of course, that Aybar would
go 0-for-4 the day after we compliment him.) It was the 87th loss
for the Dodgers, making it a real possibilty that they'll have a
90-loss season, their first in thirteen years. That's ok, though,
it's always fun to watch D.J. Houlton pitch.
You
don't have to look too hard these days for signs that the Dodgers
are a team without a purpose. Frank McCourt spends little time in
his field box, Vin Scully spends little time talking about the game
in front of him, and Jeff Kent (close to suicidal at this point)
takes all the time in the world pulling up into second base after
another useless double. Rumor has it that Jason Repko tripled twice
on Monday night, leading the Dodgers to a 9-4 victory over the Pirates.
A combined 47 games under .500, the Dodgers and Pirates put on quite
a show. Balls were booted, dropped, bobbled, thrown into center
field, thrown to the backstop, and thrown at batters. So bored was
Jim Tracy that he went to the mound every 45 seconds to change pitchers.
So bored are we that we're actually going to point out the promise
that Willy Aybar is showing. With two more hits and two walks on
Monday, Willy has an OBP of .494 and seems to understand what it
means to be a leadoff man. (That's not to take anything away from
Jayson Werth, of course, whose 47 strikeouts in five games as a
leadoff man were quite impressive.) While Aybar has only played
in 20 games (most of them against piece of crap teams), he's already
practically surpassed Jose Valentin's output for entire season.
And he doesn't have a scary moustache.
The
Dodgers were officially eliminated on Saturday, but that doesn't
mean the excitement has to end. Making a late run toward third place,
the Dodgers beat up on the Pirates Sunday, 9-2. Adding to the drama,
the Dodgers face the third place Diamondbacks three times this week,
meaning anything is possible—anything including more than 7,000
fans showing up at Dodger Stadium. Actually, there's one way the
Dodgers could draw huge crowds this week: promise a brawl. It's
been a long time, and frankly, the fans deserve it. What do the
Dodgers have to lose? Antonio Perez for the rest of the season?
Oh, how awful. If the Dodgers promised a brawl sometime during the
week, they'd have 50,000 people a night, guaranteed. Maybe Wilson
Alvarez should be the one to take one for the team. He might have
made his final appearance on Saturday, so why not have him just
beat the shit out of someone on the Diamondbacks? What can the league
do to him? Ban him from the Hall of Fame? Imagine Craig Counsell
stepping to the plate. He slowly digs in, looks out to the mound...
and suddenly gets attacked from behind by Alvarez who's wielding
a 2-foot salami and a sourdough baguette. The benches clear, the
bullpens empty, fans are on their feet. Tears and handshakes? That's
no way for Wilson Alvarez to go out. Punches and blood—that's
the way to do it. Go out fighting, man.
It
was a pretty typical night for the Dodgers on Thursday. They hit
into three double-plays, lost in extra innings, and, oh, Jason Phillips
is still running to first base. It's no secret that the guy is slower
than a line at the DMV, but it actually seems that he's getting
slower. Give it a couple years, there's a good chance you won't
even be able to see Phillips moving when he runs. On Thursday, Phillips
was thrown out at home in the 4th inning even though Arizona catcher
Chris Snyder practically caught the ball in the dugout and had to
run back to the plate. Then, in the 7th, Phillips hit a ground ball
into the hole, to the right of shortstop Royce Clayton (who, incidentally,
is fancied by Vin Scully). Clayton took about 14 steps to get the
ball, and from left field turned, jumped, and threw a 4-mph floater
across the infield. At that point, most guys (and most guys' grandmothers)
would have already been at second base. Phillips, however, found
himself stuck in quicksand, and was nailed at first. With all sincerity,
how is it possible for a grown man who doesn't weigh 400 pounds
to move so slowly? He has two legs, he has knees, and he has feet.
What's the goddamn problem? 
If
you were one of the seven people to watch the Dodger game on Tuesday,
you would have seen three things: (1) Derek Lowe making about 175
pitches in the first inning, (2) the Dodgers dropping to a season-high
16 games below .500, and (3) um, well, probably something else but
we wouldn't know because there were other, more interesting things
to do while the game was on. Those things included scrubbing the
fecal crust from between the toilet seat and the bowl, changing
the batteries in the smoke alarm, and going through the little envelope
of useless coupons you get in the mail (all of which seem to be
for carpet cleaning or address labels). With two weeks to go in
the season—and pretty much nothing for the Dodgers to play
for—you've got to be completely bored or mentally ill to watch
a game. Actually, there might be one good reason to keep the game
on: the chance to see Wilson Alvarez cry. Activated on Tuesday,
Alvarez figures to make a final appearance or two before officially
declaring that his tummy is full. He's already said that his final
appearance will be an emotional one, so we're hoping for a total
breakdown. Imagine him taking the mound, slowly gazing around the
stadium, gently cradling the ball against his manboobs... a barbecue-flavored
tear runs down his cheek. Unable to handle the moment, he falls
to the ground, clutching at the pitching rubber. His mind flashes
back to the days when he was a skinny 230-pound rookie... how he
pitched a no-hitter in his first big-league start... how he ate
his pitching coach after the game. He thinks of the perfect inning
he threw in the 1994 All-Star game, the 15 wins he had in 1996,
and the nine years he spent on the disabled list. He remembers some
of the great players with whom he shared a dugout late in his career,
like Ron Coomer, Mike Kinkade, and Jason Romano. The tears flowing,
Wilson slowy stands up. He drys his eyes, tucks in his jersey, and
bends over to pick up the ball... immediately pulling a muscle in
his back.
With
the Giants fighting to stay alive in the West, the Dodgers arrived
in San Francisco with one message to their rivals: "How can
we help?" The Dodgers helped the Giants plenty, losing the
final three games of the four-game series and putting San Francisco
in a position to make up ground beginning Monday when they face
the Padres. Now 7-1/2 games back, the Dodgers are merely onlookers...
for the moment, at least. Should San Francisco creep to within a
couple games of San Diego coming in to the final weekend of the
season, the Dodgers could stick it to the Giants by happily bending
over for San Diego. Might we suggest that Jim Tracy send the Fabulous
Five to the mound in San Diego: Elmer Dessens, D.J. Houlton, Franquelis
Osoria, Hong-Chih Kuo, and Yhency Brazoban. It was those five who
combined on Sunday to surrender ten hits and five runs to San Francisco.
After giving up an eighth inning bomb to Barry Bonds, Kuo become
the proud owner of an 81.00 ERA. (To be fair, he's only pitched
a third of an inning. With another inning or two before the end
of the season, Kuo should easily be able to bring that ERA down
to 42.50.) Meanwhile, as the season fades away, the news is not
all somber: Jonathan Broxton, the rhino-sized righty who posted
a 7.04 ERA with the team back in August, is set to return on Tuesday.
Since tickets for the game are expected to go quickly, Broxton fans
are encouraged to get to the stadium early.
On
a day when the Dodgers moved a half-game closer to the Padres but
a full day closer to elimination, let's pause for a minute to reflect
on the fragility of J.D. Drew. It was announced late Wednesday that
Drew—already lost for the season with a broken left wrist—would
undergo surgery on his right wrist and right shoulder next week.
Sources tell Dodger Blues that doctors Frank Jobe and Ralph Gambardella
will implant an actual human wrist on Drew to replace the web of
toothpicks that J.D. currently calls his wrist. Drew's shoulder
surgery will be performed by Dr. Norman Zemel. Speaking confidentially
to Dodger Blues, Zemel hinted that Drew would be better off without
a right shoulder entirely. "The shoulder is a chronic problem
for Drew," whispered Zemel, trying not to disturb a sleeping
Darren Dreifort, recovering from torso replacement surgery. "I
think J.D. would more comfortable without the shoulder. And that's
what God wants." 
The
Dodgers might not be making much of a run in the standings, but
they are making history. On Tuesday night, all three Dodger
outfielders made errors in the same inning—the first time in
modern baseball history that such a spectacle has occurred. On Wednesday
night, the fun continued, with Yhency Brazoban throwing a fastball
down the middle for a Major League record 3,912th time this season.
Cory Sullivan deposited the fastball over the wall in center field,
propelling the Rockies to an 8-7 comeback win over the Dodgers.
There
she was, always working out next to you at the gym. Or sharing the
elevator at work. Or serving you coffee around the corner. That
girl who you couldn't stop thinking about. The one who made you
nervous. The one who was out of your league. Just when you had convinced
yourself, though, that she was too hot, too popular, and too tall
for you, you overhear her telling her friend that she's just looking
for a nice guy. "Hey, I'm a nice guy," you say to yourself.
You start thinking that you've got a chance. You start thinking
that your luck is about to turn. You start wearing matching socks.
And then it happens: you see her making out with an Italian guy
on the hood of his freshly-waxed convertible. You knew the fantasy
was too good to be true. You knew you were dreaming. You knew no
one ever looked at your socks. But then, a few weeks later, you
pass each other on the sidewalk—and she smiles. What was that?
Does she recognize me? Does she like my tan? You turn around...
just in time to see her waving to some prick on a motorcycle. Stupid
ass, you tell yourself. Of course she doesn't recognize me. Of course
she wasn't smiling at me. Of course she doesn't like my tan. And
what tan is that? The tan from the florescent light above your computer?
Forget it, you tell yourself. You're done. You know it wasn't meant
to be. A week later you're at a club. You're making the rounds.
You look on the dancefloor—and there she is... dancing with
her friends. Sexy, beautiful, and single. But you know better. So
you sit at the bar. You have a couple drinks. Suddenly, you feel
something brush up against your shoulder—it's her, squeezing
her way to the bar. It's fate, you tell yourself. You offer to get
her a drink. She accepts. You introduce yourself. You talk for a
couple minutes. She tells you meet her out on the patio where it's
quieter. You smile, nod, and quickly duck into the restroom to check
yourself in the mirror. It's happening, you tell yourself. You strut
out of the bathroom and head out to the patio. And there she is—going
down on a black guy.
Continuing
their rapid ascent to first place, the Dodgers beat the Padres on
Sunday, 7-3. Home runs by Jose Cruz Jr. and Dioner Navarro made
the difference, and Jason Grabowski... well, he sat and watched.
Navarro's home run was one of his three hits on the day, and Dodger
rookie Brian Myrow got his first major league knock—courtesy
of Ryan Klesko, the most uncoordinated outfielder in baseball. Chan
Ho Park faced the Dodgers for the first time since signing with
the Rangers after the 2001 season, and he showed why the Rangers
spent three years trying to dump him. Park went just an inning and
a third, allowing three hits and two runs. He also walked two, hit
two, threw a wild pitch, and landed face first in the dirt as he
tried to leave the batter's box in the second inning. Somewhere,
Tim Belcher was laughing. With
their win Sunday, the Dodgers now find themselves six games out
of first place—one game closer than they were three days ago...
but two games further out than they were about three weeks ago.
What it comes down to is this: time is running out and the Dodgers
miss Paul Bako.
After
the last out of the Dodgers' 3-1 victory on Saturday, the Padres
quickly retreated to their clubhouse, undoubtedly nervous. The Dodgers,
after all, had just gained a full game in the standings. Sure, the
Dodgers had lost a game in the standings on Friday, but they've
got the momentum now. A win on Sunday will cut the Padres' lead
over the Dodgers to just six games. Then, all it would take is six
more Padre losses combined with six Dodger wins and total collapses
from San Francisco, Arizona, and Colorado. The normally jubilant
Dave Roberts expressed the Padres concern: "We're ahead by
a lot right now, but if a guy like Mike Edwards gets hot, he can
carry the Dodgers. You can never count a team out when they've got
a 6'-5" leadoff guy and Brian Myrow coming off the bench."
Even Jake Peavy feels the pressure. Peavy was supposed to start
on Saturday, but pulled himself after hearing that Jose Valentin
would be starting in left for the Dodgers. "It's those .175
hitters you have to be afraid of," said Peavy.
What's
better than a walk-off victory against the San Francisco Giants?
Well, two walk-off victories against the San Francisco Giants. Even
sweeter, of course, was that two former Giants burned their old
team—for the second straight night. Jose Cruz Jr. and Jeff
Kent homered on Wednesday (Cruz twice), keeping the Dodgers in the
game until the always-powerful Oscar Robles could work some ninth-inning
magic. With the Giants up by two, Robles took Armando Benitez deep
(well, not that deep... maybe 335 feet), tying the game at eight.
After a couple walks and a huge error by San Francisco reliever
Jeremy Accardo (HA!), Mike Edwards drove in the winning run with
a base hit to right. Here at Dodger Blues we always spoke highly
of the Robles/Edwards duo, so it's nice to see them come through.
Don't listen to what you hear. At no time in mid-May did we say
anything about Robles actually being "paper mache in the shape
of a baseball player." 
Getting
swept by Colorado over the weekend, being put away by the Giants
on Monday night, and languishing nearly eight games out, it appeared
that the Dodgers were done giving their fans anything to cheer about.
Even Vin Scully's boredom seemed to reach an all-time high on Tuesday
as he revealed his shoe size on the air midway through the game.
(He wears a twelve.) Things seemed hopeless. Things seemed dismal.
Things seemed morbid. Then, suddenly, there was joy. A swing by
Jeff Kent was all it took to remind everyone of one thing: It's
so goddamn great to beat the Giants. Five games back, ten games
back, twenty games back... it doesn't matter where the Dodgers are
in the standings. Hell, it doesn't even matter what bodies are wearing
the Giants uniform. All that matters is that a guy in orange and
black walked off the mound in the 10th inning, head down, having
just given up a walk-off home run—to a former Giant no less.
There's very little that's as pleasurable as that. In fact, the
pleasure ranking goes something like this: (1) getting oral sex,
(2) watching a parking enforcement officer get crushed by a tree,
(3) beating the Giants in extra innings. Of course, that's not to
diminish the joy in knowing that Jason Grabowski is finally back
with the Dodgers.
Maybe
it's the fact that they're seven games out of first place. Maybe
it's the fact that Elmer Dessens is their best pitcher. Or maybe
it's the fact that bodies are still floating in the streets in New
Orleans. Whatever the reason, we're having a difficult time caring
that the Dodgers were swept on Sunday by the worst team in the National
League. We tried to care, tried to get worked up over it, but it's
no use. Not only do we not care, we couldn't care less. It would
be depressing, perhaps, if we cared enough to be depressed. It's
the last month of the season, the Dodgers are playing a division
rival, and we'd rather be strolling through the frozen foods section
at Ralph's. The saddest part is that there are 23 games left—meaning
the apathy has yet to even peak. So, in an attempt to make those
last 23 games a little more enjoyable, we propose that the Dodgers
do the following:
September
is finally here. For some teams, that means the playoffs are close.
For the Dodgers, it means that an end to the misery is in sight.
On Friday, the misery took the form of Oscar Robles. With the game
still a game, Robles twice left the bases loaded. With the Dodgers
down by ten runs in the ninth inning, though, Robles got a base
hit to drive in a run. He wasn't alone in his futility, however,
as the Dodgers scored just a run through the first eight innings.
"Here we go again," we grumbled, "getting beat by
a bunch of nobodys." Then we realized that there's no bigger
bunch of nobodys than the Dodgers. As Dodger fans, you get so used
to the Dioners and Duaners and Dickheads being on teams like the
Brewers, Reds, and Pirates. Obviously, things have changed this
season. Sure, it's September, and we've had months to adjust to
the mediocrity and facelessness, but it's still hard to accept.
Where the hell are the guys who would show up in Colorado and hit
four bombs, knock out the Rockies' pitcher in the third inning,
and put up twelve runs? Or even six runs? Oh, who cares. Stop wasting
your time reading this crap and donate a couple bucks to