A Tale of Two Fans: A Fable of Laker Luck and Dodger Desperation
by Michael X. Ferraro
Los Angeles Downtown News
May 24, 2004

One day five years ago, brothers named Yin and Yang were in Downtown and met a ticket scalper. This scalper was unusual in that the seats he sold were of the lifetime variety. Once you commit, you go to the games... forever.

Yin bought himself a ticket and headed south for a quick jog on the 110, to the brand-spanking-new Staples Center that he'd read extensively about in a certain Sunday supplement.

Yang took the theoretical high road and went north for a short stretch on the 110, parking himself in lovely Dodger Stadium.

The scalper regularly receives lovely thank you notes and gift baskets from Yin.

The scalper is also now screening his calls and has a restraining order against Yang.

Yin's Lakers have long been owned by a millionaire who's wise enough to hire smart basketball people and get out of their way.

Yang's Dodgers were until recently owned by a media conglomerate that just brought "a big, fat, obnoxious fiance" and "the littlest groom" into the living rooms of America. Then, a parking lot mogul from the good-luck baseball capital of the world, Boston, sort of bought them.

Yin's Lakers were on the brink of extinction two weeks ago, down two games to none to the defending world champions.

Yang's Dodgers were alone in first place two weeks ago, with the best record in the National League.

Yin was delighted to see guard Derek Fisher repo the mojo from Robert Horry, a former clutch performer for the Lakers who was apparently dispossessed of his post-season magic when he left town.

Yang was flummoxed to hear reports that former high-priced Dodger disappointments Kevin Brown and Gary Sheffield were excelling in exile.

Yin is already staking out prime parade-watching space on Figueroa, since the Lakers just have to dispatch a revenge-minded but injury-riddled Minnesota Timberwolves squad and the Eastern Conference champion (probably Detroit).

Yang is staking out good exit strategies from McCourt's $10 parking lot as the regular season wears on, and the Dodgers' pitchers start to break down. At press time the team had lost seven games in a row.

Yin is vaguely proud that Luke Walton of the Lakers was recently called "cute" by Britney Spears.

Yang is mildly embarrassed that the last pop star to be linked romantically with a Dodger was Belinda Carlisle of the '80s band the Go-Go's (to '80s first baseman Mike Marshall).

If Yin wants to feel all community-minded in his enjoyment of the Lakers, he only has to call sports radio, or simply flutter a purple flag or five from his Excesscalade or Land-Bruiser.

If Yang wishes to share in his Dodger depression, he should click on DodgerBlues.com, a hilarious website that "celebrates the futility, disappointment and humor" of the franchise. Created and operated by loyal but disgruntled Dodger faithful, the site is irreverent, insightful and occasionally tasteless. A clock counts the days, hours and minutes since the last great Dodger moment (Kirk Gibson's dramatic homer in the '88 World Series), and a special photo effect that enables visitors to experience the "dynamic" personality of manager Jim Tracy is a must-mouse moment.

Recently, Yin called Yang to offer his condolences on his brother's ticket-buying plight. Yang responded, "You feel sorry for me? What about Yowsah?"

Yowsah was their other brother, who bought Clippers tickets that same day. And just had the price raised on him, despite another hopeless season.