Reductio Dodgers Absurdim.
As I continue to rationalize my way into right thinking, I find myself catapulted back in time to the period of early Neanderthal Man. I scratch the side and back of my head like the primate I am/was, attempting to understand why this once proud franchise is mired in its own demise. The myriad explanations swirl in my head, and I emit ape like noises in attempting to figure out this now cosmic mystery of the Dodgers twenty year ineptitude.
I will not bore you with the details that we all know, but I will state the rather obvious. This franchise has no identity, and the over-riding theme is its inability to gel and play with chemistry. This has been the main constant since '88. The talent is there, the coaching, so-so. But season after season, GM after Manager, the anthem is 1-12 in the playoffs, trading a winning philosophy for "The Dodger Way".
Dodger Stadium has become an attraction, four million fans pushing five million will come through the turnstiles if the team is 20 games up or 20 games out. God Bless them Tommy!
Winning is messy (see "Bronx is Burning" on ESPN). A shakeup is needed from top to bottom, first and foremost to remove the rust from the stoicism and blandness in which this team plays the game.
It is HARD to be a Dodger fan.
Or is it something else? Something far more ominous?
Is it Karma? The uprooting of all the residents of the ravine looms over this franchise, as does the broken hearts of all those residents of Brooklyn. Is it BAD LUCK, a frightening thought as Gypsy curses aren't real, are they? Or is it something even more sinister, which may be finding its way into baseball altogether, as Tim Donaghey's recent exposure now gives us all pause. That game looked quite funny to me last night, if you know what I mean. "Say it ain't so, Juan Pierrre"!
Whatever the case, perhaps The Dodgers will be the team one hundred years from now with its curses and sage and dark clouds hovering ominously over each and every game. Only time will tell.