Charlie and I used to be on a bar trivia team named, at different times, the Wurst and Kick ’em in the TACO; we were never league champions, but we reliably found ourselves at the top spot in our home pub. We went to the championship three times, I think, but we never placed higher than third. It didn’t occur to me at the time to mention it to my second Dodger-fan guest in a row, but the Dodgers, over the last decade, have found themselves in a very similar situation; Charlie is of the opinion that the Dodgers aren’t going to last long in the playoffs this year. We differ only in that he thinks that will be the case; I just hope it will.
Charlie says a lot of people tell him he looks like a baseball player himself, which is probably because he looks like a baseball player; he’s got a very pitchery face – think handsome in a Madison Bumgarner way, except not with the eyes of an implacable venomous snake that has sworn vengeance on your house – and a mid-length, well-kept beard. He also has a pristine Dodger cap that is just a little fancier than just the white on blue (the LA logo is edged with gold) that really rounds out the look. You wouldn’t be surprised at all if you saw his picture up on the scoreboard.
It’s been a while since he’s been at Oracle Park – in fact, he may never have been at Oracle Park, because the last time he was at this address, it was AT&T Park. He has not, however, been missing out on baseball – he is in fact employed by the Oakland Athletics, just across the bay. He works in the department that creates graphics for the A/V system at the Coliseum, and you can tell by his eyes, and also because he just says it out loud, that his soul cries out for a scoreboard like ours, which has five times more square footage than any house you have ever lived in, displays statistics updated in real time, and can tell you the name of every person the batter has dated since high school, with codes for why the relationships ended. Seriously, the screen is bigger than the diamond. The ones at the Coliseum are basically leftover TVs that Colecovision users no longer want.
It’s a busy night in section 152. An Australian named Scott has come on a pilgrimage to the Bay Area; he’s standing in the SRO section behind me, but we end up talking for quite a while. He’s on his way to Levi’s stadium tomorrow to see the 49ers play the Cardinals and decided to take in a Giants game as long as he was here, even though he’s an Oakland Athletics fan. The Niners game is the centerpiece of the whole trip – he’s been in the States for three and a half weeks working up to it and will be heading home on Monday morning. He’s accompanied by his son’s best friend Sam and Sam’s – as Scott puts it – “partner, friend, girlfriend, person, whatever” Lianna, who have come down from Vancouver for the weekend to join him. Scott has been a Niners fan in Australia since the late seventies, which can’t have been an easy thing; apparently he used to watch NFL matches on videotape to keep abreast of the state of play. He is ready to talk about it for the rest of the game, and the only reason we don’t hear about it is that I give them wristbands to go down to the 415 and watch the Dodgers bullpen wram up.
Also in SRO attendance tonight are a pair of women who … well, let me sum up their presence by relating the conversation that Charlie and I had after they left, which went like this:
Justin: You know, one good thing I can say about Dodger fans is that, across the board, the women are better put together than any other fanbase that comes here regularly.
Charlie: You…you mean physically, right?
Because Marissa – the one whose name I got – is at that stage of inebriation where she’s not really in control of her volume, and she is operating at the top pitch a person can achieve. At one point, Scott from Australia leans over my right shoulder from behind and says quietly “Don’t mind me. You don’t have to talk to me, I’m just trying to get a little distance.” Marissa is, however, fun and in a great mood. Her friend, whose name I don’t hear, is wing-womaning for Marissa, who is flirting like she’s just gotten out of prison – not outright hitting on anyone or being inappropriate, but making it clear that she is on the prowl. Marissa looks like the kind of Bettie-Page-inspired art you might see on the nose of a B-24 Liberator, and she’s wearing one of those Pear rings that are a sign to the competent observer that you’re open for business. I appreciate her dressing up for the game, but from what I know of LA, I think Dodger women go to the store this way. She too is only in town for a minute – she came to yesterday’s game and decided that wasn’t quite enough. All in all, the arcade is a lively joint.
Oh, the game? It’s an exciting one, in spite of the lack of significance. Charlie wants the Dodgers to win – it would make a hundred for the year – and both teams play like it matters. Tyler Fitzgerald cranks a home run off Clayton Kershaw (which has to be a moment when a rookie might contemplate retiring), Mookie Betts drives in a run in the fifth to tie it up, and Wilmer Flores hits a for-sure inning-ending double play ball that, unfortunately for the Dodgers, hits Max Muncy right in the hands. Every frame of the video of Muncy booting the ball twice is a different kind of comedy, from the moment it bounces off his glove to the moment when he finally corrals it and has to stand there looking at Flores improbably on first and Austin Slater at home plate with what turns out to be the winning run. The Dodgers mount a couple of credible threats, but we hold on with a couple of innings from Tyler Rogers and Camilo Doval.
It’s good to see Charlie again, after four years. We never made it down to the 415, but we also never didn’t have something to talk about, so I don’t think we missed out.
What Did You Think of the Evening, Charlie?
“I had a GREAT time. Would have loved a Kershaw win, but I love catching a game in that ballpark. I loved our Aussie friends, and the drunk Dodgers girl definitely added a little flavor. Thanks so much for the night.“
81 Dates 