BURBANK, CA – Sorry folks, I know the Knicks staved off the inevitable last night, and the Rangers have a pivotal game five with the Stanley Caps tonight, while the Mets and Yanks are both a fairly uninspiring 15-13, though both have reasons for some optimism (Mets take a series from a tough D-bags team, Yanks get a quality start from Phil Hughes…against the Royals but still, Phil Hughes!)…but the pub I was drinking in yesterday was located in beautiful downtown Burbank so the talk was all about Los Angeles sports.
The two biggest cheers of the day came within minutes of each other. First Albert Pujols got off the Schneider (he was taking it One Day at a Time) and finally hit his first home run of the season (and a genuinely funny moment when he returned to the dugout to find it empty), followed shortly by an empty netter to seal the Kings’ sweep of St. Louis. With that the Kings become only the third 8th seed to make it to a conference championship, knocking off the top two seeds successively (perhaps a chance to take down number three if Phoenix cashes in on their 3-1 advantage. And, if that happens, you could either look at it as NHL Armageddon in that teams from Phoenix and Los Angeles play each other…or the sheer power of personality in that both cities owe huge hockey debts to The Great One for making it possible). This was all before the Lakers beat the Nuggets later on, so while they sounded reasonable at the time, after a few Chimays, my teammate Marshall’s declarations that the Lakers would lose to extend the series–and thus cut into Metta World Elbows’ suspension so he can back in time to guard Kevin Durant in the next round–would prove erroneous.
But the main talk was about who was going to the Dodger game tonight, the first official home game of the Post-McCourt Era. Welcome to the honeymoon period, folks, when fans can still actually manage a straight face while saying things like “It’s going to be awesome when we get Josh Hamilton and Cole Hamels and David Wright.” This optimism was taken off its bridle last week when the Guggenheim Baseball Group held a press conference out in center field of Dodger Stadium, introducing themselves as a three-headed monster of good will and happiness, lowered parking prices and shorter concession lines. More police protection! Bigger clubhouses!
They licked more fan ass than a Chinese zookeeper does to get a monkey to pass a peanut.
Magic Johnson eagerly took to his role as “face” with a kind of Reagan-esque charm that made even his mistakes endearing, a total pro he actually worked up tears at one point, and ordered Money Man Mark Waters to take the mic to address the inevitable questions about “He Who Must Not Be Named,” or more specifically how much money Frank McCourt gets from our parking fees. They slickly dodged these questions with vague declarations and eventually exasperation at the gotcha media until they were rescued by Vin Scully in the end. That’s the tone that’s been set for today’s home game…when all else fails, lean on Vin.
Just like MTM leans on Grote2DMax after my phone-in posts!
