Originally posted on LAist on March 2, 2010
Like I said in my piece last week about Frank McCourt, I don’t fault him for trying make as money as he can so long as he doesn’t compromise the quality of the Dodgers in the process. So here I present the best way to squeeze money out of the usual serenity of spring training: “So You Want to Pitch for the Dodgers.”
The Dallas Cowboys do it with their cheerleaders. One NFL team allows HBO cameras into their training camp. So why don’t the Dodgers take the initiative to broadcast their competition for the fifth spot in the starting pitching rotation?
In a show that airs weekly a highly truncated version of a game pitched by the contender will be aired along with some of the levity and drama surrounding the Dodgers in Camelback Ranch in Glendale, Arizona. There can be cameos from former Dodgers such as Sandy Koufax, Sweet Lou Johnson, the irrepressible Tommy Lasorda. And there can also be appearances by stars such as Alyssa Milano, George Lopez and the plumber guy from “Desperate Housewives.”
Of course there will be the cast of pitchers:
James McDonald. The 25-year old won the competition last season and promptly rode the momentum to an 8.16 ERA giving up 13 runs on 14 1/3 innings. Once he was demoted back down as a reliever after his fourth start on April 30, he had a 2.77 ERA the remainder of the season reverting back into the pitcher we knew he was. Now that he’s a year older, will he have the mental strength to win the job again and keep it?
Eric Stults. The 31-year old was drafted by the Dodgers in the 15th round of the 2002 amateur draft and has been a mainstay in the minor leagues. Like a groundhog he would appear in the big league club when an injury arose having alternately great performances and some forgettable outings. On May 9 last season, Stults got a four-hit complete game shutout against the San Francisco Giants. Later that month at Wrigley Field against the Cubs he pitched three innings giving up four runs in a 7-0 Dodger loss. In the offseason he talked with sports psychologist Dana Sinclair to work on his mental approach to the game and stay aggressive.
Charlie Haeger. The knuckleballer who captured the imagination of every Dodgers blogger last season finally saw the light of day. Even those of us who covered the Dodgers were wrapped up with him going so far as to discuss with catcher Brad Ausmus the art of catching a knuckleballer. In his second start against the Cubs, he threw 110 pitches in seven innings of three-hit shutout ball. As no one can predict the trajectory of a knuckleball, so no one can predict the way a knuckleballer will perform. In his next start the Cincinnati Reds shellacked him with four runs on four hits in just 2 1/3 innings.
Russ Ortiz. Known best as the starting pitcher for the San Francisco Giants in game seven of the 2002 World Series against the then Anaheim Angels, the Encino native has fallen on hard times since having the Tommy John surgery in 2007 missing the entire 2008 season. Trying to get his career restarted last season with the Houston Astros, New York Yankees and Colorado Rockies, he couldn’t get anything going.
Ramon Ortiz. No relation to Russ, he was also in the 2002 World Series except as a winning pitcher in game three for the Angels. After getting a career high 16 victories in 2003, he was traded to Cincinnati when things started head south. In 2008 he was playing in Japan where he went 4-7 with a 5.82 ERA. Last season he spent the entire season with AAA Fresno Grizzlies.
Josh Towers. After having an excellent 2005 season for the Toronto Blue Jays after ace Roy Halladay went down with a broken leg, he followed it up in 2006 going 0-7 with a 10.09 ERA. As with the last two pitchers highlighted here, Towers is looking to rejuvenate his career with the Dodgers.
Carlos Monasterios. I don’t know anything about this cat except that he’s a Rule 5 draft pick from the Philadelphia Phillies. That means he needs to be on the Dodgers active 25-man roster or else be offered back to the Phillies.
Also cut into the program will be clips of the Dodgers experience in Taiwan. Manny Ramirez cuts it up with the bewildered locals! Hong-Chih Kuo and Chin-Lung Hu come back home! Will James Loney start cussing in Mandarin like Matt Kemp did in Beijing in 2008?
Now after going through spring training highlighting these pitchers’ performances, once the Dodgers get back to Dodger Stadium for the end of the exhibition season they set up a dais with general manager Ned Colletti, manager Joe Torre, pitching coach Rick Honeycutt and owner Frank McCourt. Before them would stand the contending pitchers with the camera panning to each of them standing in their uniforms nervously waiting for the verdict.
After several commercial breaks – we do have to generate revenue and fill time – McCourt finally hands the winner not a rose but a golden baseball. The camera will then pan to the disappointed pitchers, tears welling in their eyes knowing they will either be relegated to the bullpen or worse sent to AAA Albuquerque and their stale PB&Js.
I think this is a brilliant idea, and it would make McCourt look like a genius especially if he does this before the Yankees or Red Sox get their grubby hands on it. Like I said, I’m only here to help McCourt’s goal in owning an English Premier League club.
It was summer 1996 right before my senior year of high school back when my curfew was 10. I spent a Saturday with C who was at a UCLA summer camp. While hanging out in her dorm room and traipsing around Westwood Village, I ended up buying a used copy of Stabbing Westward’s Wither, Blister, Burn and Peel at the Wherehouse. “What Do I Have to Do” was played quite a bit on KROQ, and while I thought it was NIN-lite, I couldn’t deny how catchy and good it is.
I got home a bit late, around 10:30, and that was when I had the worst fight with my mom. She had gone to bed early and woke up when I went to the bathroom. Naturally she asked where I was and didn’t believe me when I said where I was or what I was doing. I kept telling her that I was just spending the day with C at UCLA, and she insisted that I wasn’t. I could only imagine what she thought I was doing. I wondered what I did to make her not trust me — I didn’t drink or use drugs; I was a good student in AP classes. At this point I had only started smoking cigarettes for several months. I listened to dark music. I liked to hang out at coffeeshops with my friends. I had horrible self-esteem. I was loud and angry with role models being Howard Stern and Roseanne. I knew I wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t think I was off the rails.
How do you communicate this to a mother with just as bad of a temper as you and who refuses to believe you?
It was getting late, and I wanted to go to bed. My mom didn’t want to end the argument. As a 17-year old, I didn’t know what she wanted from me. I knew I was hiding something big, and I had no intention of ever telling her. But my mom kept yelling at me saying I wasn’t telling the truth. Then I blurted it out.
“I’m gay.”
Fuck. As those words came out, I knew it was a fucking mistake. I knew nothing good was going to come out of this and that this argument was not going to come to an end anytime soon. Predictably, my mom went even more berserk perfecting every melodramatic beat from Korean dramas.
I knew I had to just stand there and take it. Then she said it.
“If you ever bring this up again, I will shoot you and shoot myself.”
Everything blurred after that. I knew I was never going to get my mother’s love, that no one was going to be there for me. It definitely explains the relationship I have with my mom, and it probably explains why I have never been in a relationship or see myself ever being in one.
Since then whenever I listen to Stabbing Westward I think about this night.
All of this to say that I did go see them Friday night as they promoted their re-recording of Wither to celebrate its 30th anniversary along with PIG, Acumen Nation (celebrating the 30th anniversary of Territory=Universe) and 16Volt (celebrating the 30th anniversary of LetDownCrush) as a part of Cold Waves LA. It was a great show of reliving the 90s guitar industrial metal and seeing bands I didn’t get to see back in the day. Hell, PIG even played “Juke Joint Jezebel” which I guess you could call a KMFDM cover even though Raymond Watts was the original featured vocalist.
As I cursed my aching 47-year old feet and back standing for hours at the Pacific Electric, I did think back to that argument 30 years ago and wonder what other climatic moments the people around me had. What traumas are the guy next to me exorcising as he is screaming out the lyrics very much off key?
Around 1 am they finished the set with “Save Yourself,” and the house lights turned up. Sure, I’m still carrying all of that baggage, but at least I got to shake my ass a little and enjoy myself a little, pain be damned.
The only reason I really look forward to my birthday is that I get time off from work and that I usually rent an Airbnb out in the middle of the desert in the Joshua Tree vicinity with a pool, hot tub, and no one around for 5 acres. So here I am in Landers (or a bit away from it really) whose claim to fame was that it was the epicenter of a 7.3 earthquake in 1992 just hours before a separate 6.5 earthquake centered in Big Bear hit on a Sunday morning. Wild stuff.
I arrived here yesterday, and on the way had to stop to get gas. Since this stupid fucking illegal war with Iran has driven gas prices sky high again, I’ve mostly been back on public transit again because, fuck that. There I was at the Arco station jaw agape as the $30 went to $40 and on up until it landed at $72 for 13 gallons of gas. Yes, the “cheap” gas.
I’m going to be spending most of the time in or around the pool trying to finish Schattenfroh by Michael Lentz. I’m at around page 604, so I have about 400 more pages to go. I’ll be honest — I have no fucking clue what’s going on in the book. It’s a slow, slow read and demands your attention but not in a painstaking way. It’s a very enjoyable read, but I honestly don’t know how we get from one part to the next. Instead of trying to make sense of it, I’m just riding the wave, going where it’s taking me and try to make sense of it later.
I’ve started working on a couple of things with myself and hope to get better at as I begin my 48th year on this planet: I have started to journal more. It’s the most mundane scatterbrained thing. I hope it doesn’t cause someone’s head to explode when they go through my journals after I’m dead. (How cute. I think I have any importance that people will actually read what I write rather than just dispose it like they should.)
I need to curb my YouTube addiction. I don’t watch tv shows. I don’t watch sports all that much. I don’t use TikTok. I only doomscroll through Facebook at 3 am after I have woken up to take a piss. I am no longer perpetually online. But I will sit down and waste hours upon hours watching YouTube videos. I really need to get that in check.
That’s all I’ve got. Overall, I’m not happy, but I’m not completely depressed. Let’s just call it nonplussed. For someone who feels like a stranger in his own country, I guess that’s about as good as we can hope for.