It's hard to imagine that it's taken the Dodgers half a century in Los Angeles to be this bad. Oh, they won the game -- indeed they swept the visiting Philadelphia Phillies with an impressive 3-1 win, holding the Phils to what, two hits?
[Having grown up a split-personality Phillies and Dodgers fan, I have mixed feelings about coming to see my two teams fight it out. I want to cheer for them both, but on a certain level (the one on which I am a completely irrational sports fan) I believe that you can't have two teams: "You're a grown %@#*ing man; pick one, and shut up about it." And how am I going to raise my daughter? I'll expose her to the Phils, of course, but she's an Angeleno; it's only natural that the Dodgers should be her first option. But back to how the Dodgers (concessions) suck.]
It's not the Dodgers; it's the Dodger organization. And it's not the whole Dodger organization; it's the part of the organization that charges $15 for parking and then inadequately identifies rows and sections of the parking lot, and sells seats identified with the terms "section," "row" and "seat" and then posts signage in the parking lot (ostensibly designed to help fans find their seats) that uses the term "aisle." "Huh?! Screw it, let's just go this way." Which we did -- and we found our way very easily, just as we found our car without much trouble after the game. So what's my gripe? Here's my gripe, mister: I went to the nearest concession stand at 8:15pm (I think it was the 4th inning) and waited in line until 8:55pm. During that time, I watched Nomar Garciaparra hit a home run (on a monitor the same size as the one I have at home, except I was twice the distance from it as I am at home). I would have loved to have shared that exciting Dodger moment with my daughter, as I would have loved to have shared the singing of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" with her, too. (Word is, she was incredibly cute.) To add insult to injury, other vendors walked by announcing their wares and boasting "No lines!" I told the CFK guy that I'd buy his pizza, if he could also get me two Dodger Dogs, two beers and some pop corn." The expression on his face told me that he'd suddenly realized I wasn't as amused with my predicament as he was. The second time he came by with the same pitch line, I half-heartedly accused him of mocking us queue captives. It's not that the service people were the worst; they were somewhere just ahead of the folks at the DMV. But the keg ran out on my order. And there were no napkins in the dispenser. I had to find some on my own. Again -- not the main problem, but a symptom of it. The organization that made it so easy for me to pay $15 for parking by offering an online payment operation couldn't accomplish the feat of getting two hot dogs, two beers and a bag of pop corn in my hands and have me back in my seat and enjoying the game with -- indeed, making a Dodger-fan-for-life of -- my two year old daughter in less than 40 minutes. Atrocious.
So, is that it? Too long a wait in the hot dog line? Not a word about the actual game? Truth is, I didn't see enough of the game to have much to say about it. Exept this: When Dodger fans half-heartedly booed the Phils intentional walk of Manny Ramirez in the 8th, all the Philadelphia fan in me could think was, "Amatuers. Boo Santa. Boo the kids dressed as the Sixers at the Ice Skating World Championships. Boo Mike Schmidt. Then you can boo the an intentional walk that even T-Ball manager would have called for (can you walk in T-Ball? I guess if the T literally waddles away from you.)
Bottom line: Dodgers 3, Phils 1, me and my family experience at the ball park 0. Upon returning from my ordeal, I commented, "It ain't no Big A, that's for sure." Anyone who has been to both stadiums (and really, shouldn't it be "stadia?") can tell you that one is all about the family experience and one lags behind. One team is run like the Dodgers of old, and the other ages you 30 years while waiting in line for concessions. You may have won the inning, Mr. McCourt, but you are certainly losing the game.
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