SB Nation Los Angeles Editor's Pick
Why I Still Bleed Dodger Blue This Morning
by Little Blue Bicycle on Jul 19, 2010 8:48 AM PDT
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PrintThere is much gnashing of teeth in the Dodger World these days. The annual meltdown in St. Louis only magnifies the usual complaints: the continuing tawdriness of the McCourt divorce, the growing unease that seems to surround Ned Colletti at every trading deadline, the apparent decline of Manny Ramirez and Casey Blake, the head scratching that follows every questionable on-the-field decision of Matt Kemp or bad game on the mound. Moreover, there is the growing fear that the ship has sailed, that the promise that began with the so-called "Jacksonville Five" will ultimately prove false, lost in a Matt Stairs-induced haze. At times like these--and at age 52 I've experienced many times like these--I like to remind myself why I'm a Dodger fan in the first place.
In 1947, Jackie Robinson came to the big leagues. Who doesn't know that? That fall, the Dodgers took on the Yankees in the World Series, the first of those epic contests that were to define post-World War II baseball. A long way from New York City, in a small, unremarkable Virginia town called Elliston, the employees at the local meat-packing plant decided to have a World Series pool. But there was a problem--no one in that southern plant would put any money on the integrated Dodgers. Finally, the organizers approached the woman who would someday be my grandmother. Until that moment, she had never paid any attention to organized sports. But as her co-workers explained the situation, she found herself growing angry. And she finally exploded, saying in the polite vernacular of the times, "Good Lord! We don't let the colored people do anything else. Why can't we at least let them play baseball?" And with that she pulled a dollar out of her purse and placed it on the team from Brooklyn.
They lost, of course. They usually did lose to the Yankees. But over the years, she stayed with the Dodgers. It wasn't easy. She never told her son or her husband, worried about what they would think. But every year she followed them quietly, and every year she pulled out that dollar. The Dodgers moved to Los Angeles. She didn't care--as she said years later, she was never going to see Brooklyn or California, so it didn't matter to her. Along came other players who became her favorites--Roy Campanella, and then Sandy Koufax. In 1965, Koufax pitched the Dodgers to another World Series victory as she sat on her sofa, her grandson--me--at her side. "That's Sandy Koufax," she told me, "he's the greatest pitcher who's ever lived. And those are the Dodgers. That's my team." By the end of the series, as the Dodgers celebrated in Minnesota, they were my team too. I went out in the back yard and tried to become a lefthander.
Tough years followed. The Orioles swept the Dodgers in 1966, and then what I remember as the dark sports nights of my childhood's soul followed. My classmates teased me without mercy. But as I got to high school, something amazing happened--the Dodgers started winning. New names appeared in the box scores of the Roanoke Times: Garvey, Lopes, Russell, Cey, Ferguson, Yeager. Sports Illustrated called them "The Little Blue Bicycle," chasing down the Big Red Machine. Meanwhile, when it came to baseball, I was still my grandmother's confidant. For the next years we rode the roller coaster of feast and famine. I was at college when Reggie Jackson ended two dreams, but I was back at my grandmother's kitchen table keeping score when the Dodgers finally beat those Yankees in 1981. By 1988, I was away at grad school, trying to rock my son to sleep when Kirk Gibson hit that home run. The phone rang.
Four year later I was on the phone again. As much as I refused to admit it, she was dying. So we talked about the Dodgers prospects that year. She was not hopeful. It was the last real conversation we ever had.
Close to two decades later, I find myself shaking my head as the Cardinals come back to win. Another series lost. Fourth place. Broxton! And yet, there we are, I am a Dodger fan, there's no getting out of it, and sometimes that's how it goes. If the Dodgers can't boast twenty-seven pennants, the Yankees can't boast a place in American history textbooks. For me, the Dodgers have never been the hometown team, or the easy team to root for. Nor are they Frank McCourt's team. I know, it sounds pie-in-the-sky these days, but to me the Dodgers are still about Robinson and Rickey, Campy and Koufax, and a quiet woman's courage not only to say "enough" to the hatred of segregation, but to raise me to believe in justice too. That's my team.
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That was awesome
I like how you worked in the explanation of your name as well.
by Tommy Blackjack on Jul 19, 2010 9:07 AM PDT reply actions
Thank you very much
That was great. I’m two years older and have similar stories, substituting my mother for your grandmother. My mother was the baseball fan in the house and went to the same Pasadena schools as Jackie, though she never knew him. She probably would have been a Dodger fan regardless, but there was that link to make it special. And Koufax was my hero as a kid. I’m left-handed and was convinced I was going to be a major league pitcher just like Sandy. Didn’t work out that way though :)
Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man
I don't remember the "Little Blue Bicycle"
SI story but I love that is how your got your name.
Patience is for those who die waiting for something to happen
Great
like the date, they were still percolating in 73 getting ready for great things for the rest of the decade.
Patience is for those who die waiting for something to happen
I remember it well
Can’t say I really liked it since it implied inferiority to the Reds. Which they were, but I wanted none of that then.
Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man
I taped it to my bedroom wall.
I had hope.
by Little Blue Bicycle on Jul 19, 2010 9:39 AM PDT up reply actions
That is an amazing story.
I was moved to tears. :)
They say to never hit a man with a closed fist. But it is, on occasion, hilarious.
Thanks guys.
Glad you enjoyed it. I guess I needed to write it this morning.
by Little Blue Bicycle on Jul 19, 2010 9:31 AM PDT reply actions
This is just great
What a wonderful story.
My grandmother was a huge Dodger fan as well, and I watched many a game at her side. This brings back a ton of memories.
my Grandma is too
her and my grandfather have had season tickets for years. That’s how I get to go to as many games as I do. She’s great too, she’s a very “vocal” fan. She doesn’t get to the ballpark really, but she watches it on TV and she might as well be there for as loud as she yells.
by Tommy Blackjack on Jul 19, 2010 9:37 AM PDT up reply actions
Funny about our grandmothers
Mine was in love with Vinny and that is why the Dodgers radio station was on every night. When we first moved to Cal we had to move in with them as we searched for a place to live. Great summer of 1970.
Patience is for those who die waiting for something to happen
Add my Grandma too
Right up until she developed balance problems, she would always be out throwing the wiffle ball with the younger family members and relating stories of Koufax and Drysdale.
Hey LBB did you see this
SB Nation Los Angeles Editor’s Pick
Patience is for those who die waiting for something to happen
Eric will have to explain
what that means. That is the first time I’ve seen it.
Patience is for those who die waiting for something to happen
That means it will show up as a link on SB Nation Los Angeles (it is near the bottom of the page, below the team sites)
by Eric Stephen on Jul 19, 2010 9:55 AM PDT up reply actions
High praise from you, Jon. Thanks.
by Little Blue Bicycle on Jul 19, 2010 9:56 AM PDT up reply actions
Beautiful Post
It stirs the fan and definitely connects to something much deeper with the meaning of sports.
Thanks for this LBB
I not only enjoyed reading it and relating to it, but also learned where your handle comes from. As much of a die-hard Dodger fan as I supposedly am (grew up in the 70s and 80s), I never knew that was a nickname for the Dodger teams of the 70s. Feel ignorant, but thanks for explaining it.
That’s my team, indeed. Through thick and thin.
There's no need to fear, Underdog is here! / Broncos/Dodgers/Lakers fan in Niners/Raiders/Giants/Warriors country, and damned proud of it.
Here’s a link to the Sports Illustrated article in question, from August 20, 1973:
Subtitle:
L.A.‘s Little Blue Bicycle uses some old parts and an infield full of new ones trying to outrun Cincy’s Big Red Machine
One member of the infield is an outfielder turned third baseman turned first baseman. Another, the shortstop, was a part-time outfielder only 16 months ago. The catcher began this season with fewer than 50 games of big-league experience under his chest protector, and the second baseman is a 27-year-old rookie who blows bubbles. The third baseman is young and raw, too, playing a position where so many before him have come and gone. Quickly. At various times during the season they have been collectively called The Babes of Summer or The Little Blue Bicycle, and their inexperience defies normal baseball criteria for judging a contender. There are games in which they hustle so hard they seem intent on getting the minimum out of the maximum, but after each pratfall these young Los Angeles Dodgers get up again, apparently stronger and wiser. And believing more firmly that they can withstand the oncoming crunch of Cincinnati’s Big Red Machine to win the National League West.
Perhaps Mr. Torre should listen to Mr. Alston
“Young players, of course, make mistakes, and recently the Dodgers have made all sorts of them. In Houston two of them ended up on third base one night and three of them were thrown out at either home or third in the first two innings the next night. “Things like that can drive you crazy,” says Alston, “but I’d rather have them doing things aggressively than playing safety-first ball.”
by Little Blue Bicycle on Jul 19, 2010 10:15 AM PDT up reply actions
I don't often forward blog links
Especially to my non-Dodger-fan friends (i.e., all of them), but this just made the rounds.
Looks like allergy season is back.
by Son of Steve Sax on Jul 19, 2010 10:58 AM PDT reply actions
Without taking anything from Eric, Phil, et al
This is one of the best things I have ever read on this or any other baseball-related site.
Absolutely awesome
Well done, and just to keep on trucking.
Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.-Oscar Wilde
I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their own desires.
arguably a GOAT post
as in one of the Greatest of All Time posts.
Jackie Robinson
went 0-3 that game. A lot of folk were ready to write off the whole “negro experiment”. Then all he did was win rookie of the year. I’m glad I share a hero with you and your grandma. I must be in good company.
Look at that, he hit the f*cking bull! Guy gets a free steak!
Wow, very nice post.
A pleasure to read, thanks.
by TopDeckTrueBlue on Jul 19, 2010 2:01 PM PDT reply actions
Loved It!
Loved it so much in fact I opened an account just so I could comment on how much I loved it. Thanks for the great story. I am proud to be a fan of your Grandmother’s team. GO DODGERS!
Thanks so much
For the fine story. I think your story is just what the doctor ordered after that brutal road trip to St. Louis.
The commenter formerly known as El Lay Dave.
David
working his work through TBLA one story at a time
Patience is for those who die waiting for something to happen
If he's not
then I’m bleeding double for him. It’s just rough right now.
"Stop exploding you cowards!!!"
Yeah...
but really, after that Tuesday night fiasco, even my grandmother would be annoyed ;-)
by Little Blue Bicycle on Jul 21, 2010 5:23 AM PDT up reply actions
On my way out I stopped to read this.
Glad I did.
The DiamondBLANK fans have no idea which way is up right now. Hey, just nine years ago they sported two pitchers who lost a combined 12 games and struck out 665 batters enroute to the fastest WS victory by any expansion team. Now, they are in the midst of the worst season the franchise has had.
“WELCOME TO HOME TEAM BASEBALL, PHOENIX! HERE’S EVERYTHING! WHOOPS, SORRY, WRONG CUSTOMER – EVERYTHING MUST GO!”
They’re a little dizzy, and it’s not just the heat. They don’t have the generations of heroes past to buoy them.
Yours is one of the most storied franchises in all the land. Baseball’s legacy was built by the Dodgers, the Yankees, the Braves, the Indians…and, yeah, the Giants.
Before I ever watched a World Series game on television I had read The Roy Campanella Story. Then it was The Boys Of Summer..
Don’t ask me for pertinent facts – I can barely remember yesterday let alone 40 years ago.
The Sixties must have been sweet here..Koufax and Drysdale!
When I read the physical description of the destruction of Koufax’ arm it hurts.
I don’t read Koufax’s story too often. It’s like watching Million Dollar Baby or Pay It Forward. It’s a wonderful story with a terrible ending.
To watch Strasburg or Kershaw pitch now is an event, but reading about the players who made the headlines then – well, it was just as exciting to a 10 year old – maybe more, because as adults we crowd a whole lot of other crap in there like statistical analysis and salary envy.
"I don’t know why people feel the need to come up with reasons 'why' for everything..." - Missing Barry
"...and is the reason 'why' really something we should be striving for?" - (guess who)
by victor frankenstein on Jul 30, 2010 10:54 PM PDT reply actions
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