The Yelp reviews for the Dodgers’ All You Can Eat Pavilion are the best ever

Yes, this not only exists in 2016, but fans actually find flaws with it.

By Andrew J. Pridgen

Baseball lives and dies with its promos. From the legendary (Disco Demolition Night, 10 Cent Beer Night) to the pandering (SF Social Media Night) to the sublime (Twins Fur Bomber Hat Day for those of you pining for the Grumpy Old Men/Newhart era)—horrible ideas executed with extreme confidence is baseball’s hallmark.

Yes, baseball is Dick Cheney with a hunting rifle.

Baseball is the 42-year-old project manager on the third day of a convention who’s trying to ‘flirt’ with the cart girl. He rolls out a breathy, armpitty arsenal of horrible jokes, threadbare pick-up lines and misbegotten attempts at self-aggrandizement: “I’d ask you to come back to the hotel with me, but my wife’s oncologist asked me not to leave her now.”

…But the Dodgers’ All You Can Eat Pavilion, might be the best of them:

1. Because it’s super-unlike anything else you find at any West Coast stadium: At AT&T park there is an actual fucking culinary garden behind the center field concessions and two restaurants which allegedly sling the results (Garden Table and Hearth Table) including pizza, smoothies, juices, salads and an antipasti bar.
2. Because it’s super cost-effective: $33/seat for AYCE Dodger Dogs™, nachos, popcorn, peanuts and Coke products. $33, btw is roughly the cost of one 8 oz. microbrew that actually recently sold out to a giant beer company and a pretzel at AT&T.
3. Because nobody knows about it: Or at least nobody has taken advantage of it enough to make the Dodgers stop doing it. Which means nobody knows about it.

But the best part about what is basically the best part of all of baseball, is the Yelp reviews.

Here’s the deal folks: If I had a friend or relative who was really down…say they’re a sergeant in the LAPD Narco division who was just reassigned from Homicide. He comes with backstory of having served in Special Forces during Nam where he was a CIA operative/sniper in the “Phoenix Project”. He returned to the world to marry and try to be normal but watched his wife die in an apparent car accident which was actually an attempt on his life. This all forced him to become crazy/suicidal and sequestered in a trailer on the shores of Malibu. If this were the case, instead of letting him jump off a building with an innocent dude who wanted to jump off a building, I would load ‘em up in the Daihatsu and take him down to the AYCE Pavilion, stick a Dodger Dog™, or three, in his face and say, there you go—life ain’t so bad.

But if there’s ANY GROUP who can shoot holes in such perfection: The ocean green of the field, the (actual) Mid-century modern geometric contours of the outfield shade roof, the sway of the palm sending the immortal tones of Scully out to sea in time to real organ music bouncing off mountain lion- and starlet-stocked canyons of unrealized dreams—it’s The Yelpers.

Here then are the people who are more evil than a Sarah Palin Conservative Cruise—and how they HATE on pretty much the only reason to live:

Mark s.

San Fernando, CA

A WORD OF WARNING TO VEGETARIANS.

In years past, they offered Veggie dogs on request. They were never advertised, or on the menu board, but they were behind the counter if you asked. I went to a game late in the 2015 season to find that they no longer offered Veggie dogs!

Really Mark (lower-case) s. with the ALL-CAPS warning?! You’re going to a fucking all-you-can-eat pavilion and all-you-can-think-about is veggie dogs? Oye. Guess you go to strip club buffets for the veggie medley too.

Patrick L.

Los Angeles, CA

Some guys are stingy and they only give you ONE hot dog. Come on now, we’re in an AYCE pavilion…don’t be like that!

Don’t be like that? Sorry Patrick, but please, for the love of all things holy vendors, be like that. Look, I’m all for loading up at this magic place, but I’m also for working for it a little. One hot dog at a time seems perfectly reasonable. “And uh, nachos…and uh, 12 Dodger Dogs™.” No. Unless your ID says Joey Chestnut or Kobayashi—they’re doing this for your own good.

Chris A.

Palo Alto, CA

The benches are too small, with no room to keep anything away from the ground, which became a cesspool within the first hour.

I’m going to have to agree with Chris (upper-case) A. a little here. The seats should be at least three feet longer/higher for the AYCE crowd. Also maybe a vendor with a rack of Prilosec OTC coming around in the 8th. If the Dodgers could just turn the AYCE pavilion seating into actual toilets, that might save a lot of people like Patrick L. and his contemporaries from having to get up and walk to the restroom at all.

Arthur M.

Henderson, NV

Come early because the food lines will be long and because of the new speed of play rules, you can miss chunks of the game.

Attention commissioner Manfred: Your new speed-up-the-game rules are TOTALLY interfering with my ability to get a fifth serving of nachos by the fourth inning. —Signed, EVERYONE at the Dodgers’ AYCE pavilion

And finally, Emil C.. from Diamond Bar just breaks it fucking down:

Now for the reason why you’re sitting in this section… the food! You start by getting in line and picking up a tray. First up are the bags of popcorn and peanuts. Next is what people come to a Dodger game for, the Dodger Dogs™. They make sure that you only get two at a time. Right next to the dogs are the nachos and cheese. Around the final corner, you’ll get the sodas and paper napkins. If you want water, they have water dispensers spread out in the entire area. Please note that beer, ice cream, frozen lemonade, churros, etc. are extra. The lines can be long at the beginning but they move really fast. Keep in mind that the Dodger Dogs™ do not taste as good as they normally would because they have to put out mass quantities to feed those trying to eat their money’s worth. Some times they will even limit you to just 1 dog per person. Food services stops at the end of the 7th inning.

It’s really not a pretty sight to see so many people stuff their faces. It’s a plain ‘ol feeding frenzy.

Holy shit! Emil C. just totally described Temple Grandin’s invention for how to kill cows humanely. This can only mean one thing: your long, slow march down the endless aisle of pain to eternity starts with picking up a tray and setting a pair of Dodger Dogs™ on it.

But who gives a fuck—you’ll die happy…or at least full.

 

2016 World Series Odds | Who to bet and who to forget

Spring Training, where beer tastes like Axe body spray and clear acrylic stilettos. Where the Oakland A’s play in an actual baseball stadium. Where (El) Super Burritos in North Scottsdale flow like well tequila. Where the Pink Pony is a steakhouse not a strip club. Where the poolside bar at Hotel Valley Ho is manned by my favorite former Royal with a porn star baseball name to end all names, Pete LaCock. Where Julián Tavárez drives a rickshaw with his face.

Before we make our annual pilgrimage to the base of Camelback, Kyle Magin and myself check in with Bet It or Forget It—every team’s odds to win the World Series.

Last year, our soothsayers called the Astros, Cubs and Mets making it deep into the postseason—unfortunately neither of them believed Ned Yost had a two-year lease on his special magic. This year the boys are back with some darkhorses who may become favorites by fall.

Check it out. Print it and take it to the book!

By Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen

Chicago Cubs: 7/1

AJ: Forget it. As a general rule, I don’t bet the odds favorite, but when they’re the Cubs. Whoa. Not even Richard Pryor with bottomless coffers—and a Cubs jersey—in Brewster’s Millions could justify that kind of wager. That said, at 7 to 1 I won’t be mad if you take a flier on this one Kyle, for two reasons. 1) Voting for the NL All-Star team might as well be limited to pitchers only. To say the Cubs’ starting eight are a murderers’ row is an understatement…more like a murderer’s tract or a murderer’s mega-cinema complex with a murderer’s evil HOA. Ready? Zobrist, Heyward, Rizzo, Bryant, Schwarber, Soler, Montero, Russell. All jersey-movers. I’d say the only spot(s) lacking potency at the plate is in that 7-8 hole but you’ve got a pair of potential Gold Glovers to supplement any slumps at the dish. And 2) Though this Cubs franchise still schleps the Billy Goat’s Curse and the legend of Bartman around like a carry on with a broken wheel through McCarran, there’s something about this generation of Cubs player/fan that doesn’t quite, how should I say this, give a FUCK about curses or lore or nostalgia or being loveable because you lose. Blame sabermetrics and analytics and solipsism and #selfieculture or just whatever. The best way to shatter glass ceilings and to shed the past is to ignore, ignore, ignore. These Cubbies from opening day on will be hellbent and looking ahead to the time they get theirs. And maybe you can start wearing turtlenecks and headphones to the games again.

Kyle: Forget it. AJ, I wanted to take a flier so bad. I totally agree with you that this team is pretty well ignorant of the CURSE. It’s what happens when 80 percent of your roster had parent-enforced bedtimes for the Bartman game. I also think that strength feeds this roster’s biggest weakness: Youth. How does Jake Arrieta come off a season when he pitched 229 innings–92 more than he’s ever pitched previously? How do the Cubs’ pups handle that next step into the playoffs–a long NLCS or World Series run? Last year the bats went dead, Arrieta’s magic ran up and the fire was extinguished pretty convincingly by the Mets. I think the Cubs will have learned from that, but like the Bulls of the late 80s and 1990, the Cubs have a few more dragons to slay and lessons to learn about pacing and being ready for deep, deep runs. I’ve no doubt the core of this team will fly a W in a deciding game of a World Series on the North Side, I just don’t think we’re there yet.

Boston Red Sox: 8/1

AJ: Forget it. I have NO idea what’s going on here. Did I miss something in the offseason that will change this 78-win team (5th in their division) into a world champion besides the B on their hat and the incessant deep throating from The Network? Granted Dave Dombrowski shored up a nice bullpen with the addition of closer Craig Kimbrel and set-up man Carson Smith. as well as adding Chris Young to his outfield and paying more than $200 million to snare ace David Price. So it was a productive offseason. In the infield, Hanley Ramirez (at first?) will be trade bait till the deadline and Sandoval has about five months to gel before he’s shipped back to the West Coast (I can see him in a D-backs uniform if they start to contend and Jake Lamb doesn’t show much pop). Which all adds up to the Sox are very much still a team in transition. Hell, I wouldn’t take them at 40/1.

Kyle: Forget this with Notebook-level alzheimer’s. Ramirez is a trainwreck defensively and quite possibly a bad baseball player. What makes the Sox think he’ll pick up first base!? His sometimes-historic inability to play short? His titanic failings in left field? There’s nowhere lower on the defensive spectrum to hide this guy. I wouldn’t trust him to field balls in little league. Mookie Betts is a revelation, yes, and David Price will earn his 2020 money this year and next, so no worries there. But, a lot of assumptions about the Red Sox are based on wishful thinking. How far past 40 can David Ortiz make it? Dustin Pedroia has ground through 10 seasons and he just doesn’t have the extra base power (or batting eye) to pick up the middle of the order during the inevitable slumps they’ll go through. Paramount, where do you go for innings after Price and Porcello?

San Francisco Giants: 10/1

Kyle: Bet it! Listen, the NL wildcard is probably coming out of the west this year. The Cubs signed away 12-plus wins from the Cardinals to claim ownership over the Central and I think the East will beat itself up too convincingly to get a second team in. That leaves Bruce Bochy & Co to navigate a brawl in a division where the upper tier (SF, LAD, ARI) is relatively even and the bottom probably can’t get worse wins-wise. Arizona sacrificed depth in order to sign Grienke. The Dodgers’ roster looks formidable until Dave Roberts actually has to send nine men out onto the field. Who do you trust to pace themselves through that slog, find enough wins to guarantee a playoff spot, then turn it on in October? I’m taking the team with MadBum, Samardzija and Cueto and Bochy pulling the strings. They’re the Bernard Hopkins of baseball right now, but they can still land a punch.

AJ: Forget it. Yes, it’s an even-numbered year. Yes, the additions of Samardzija and Cueto are key to keeping the once-best-rotation-in-the-league buoyant. Yes, Posey, Belt, Panik, Crawford and Duffy are the best homegrown infield this side of Wrigleyville…but it all still doesn’t add up to much in what portends to be a dogfight in the NL West. For starters, Matt Cain is a huge question mark and Jake Peavy is gassed. If Chris Heston can show a little better command of his slider during his sophomore campaign and MadBum continues to be MadBum, that’s a decent rotation, albeit one that is chasing with the aforementioned acquisitions. This mentions nothing of the unceremonious farewell to the dynastic heart and soul Tim Lincecum. The outfield with Pagan and Pence coming off injury-plagued years plus the acquisition of Denard Span from the Nationals and return of Mr. Dependable Gregor Blanco may get back to 30,000 feet this season, but the Giants have no pop, not even the Michael Morse variety, anywhere in that lineup. They may stay close to .600 at home, but good luck in AZ, LA, Colorado and beyond.

Houston Astros: 12/1

AJ: Forget it. Ah, to turn back the clock a year and have the Mets at 75/1. The Astros in 2016 are the Cubs in 2015. Formidable, scary and altogether not bland…but also not set up quite yet to go deep into the playoffs. Houstonians are fawning over the notion that Houston has a potential MVP in second baseman Jose Altuve and a potential Cy Young in Dallas Keuchel, but after a white-hot start in the AL West last year, they limped into the playoffs losing the majority of their series after June. Texas, Anaheim and Seattle all improved in the off-season and Oakland (marginally) did too. Houston will surprise nobody—except those with high expectations.

Kyle: Forget it. I like Dallas Keuchel. I like Jose Altuve and Carlos Correa. I don’t love the rest of the staff and I don’t think DH Evan Gattis is a guy you can keep giving 600 PAs to and expect better results. The Astros didn’t spend a lot in free agency and that’s telling–they’re going to see how far this group can take itself before adding on. At this point, they’re still a few moves away.

New York Mets: 14/1

AJ: Forget it. understand the 2016 Mets will be drawing comparisons to the 2015 Royals all season, especially if they’re able to surge mid-summer. And I’m on that bandwagon too, but not under 20/1. They’re a year older (which in this case means better) and a year hungrier. The only real hiccup for the folically unchallenged I see is the gauntlet that the NLDS and LCS is shaping up to be. You’ve got the Nationals, Dodgers, Cubbies, Giants—plus the venerable Cardinals and the surprising D-Backs to contend with on the road to late-October. Suddenly, the path isn’t so clear for Mr. Met.

Kyle: Forget it. See above.

Texas Rangers: 15/1

Kyle: Bet it! This is a division winner that was short Yu Darvish and only got a half season out of Cole Hamels in 2015. Both are perennial Cy Young candidates who have a lineup behind them that was averaging five runs a day in September and October last year. Jurickson Profar and Rougned Odor can both stretch singles into doubles and go first-third as well as anyone in the league. The table setters only need wait for Prince Fielder, who crushed in the later part of the season last year (6 HR, 25 RBI in September) to bring them around. Adrian Beltre will continue to play like a Hall of Famer and if Josh Hamilton can right the ship you can count on not talking Cowboys in Dallas until mid-October.

AJ: Forget it. Fuck man, I’m WAAAY more comfortable with the Rangers being in the 50:1 odds range preseason. I get it. Texas got Hamilton back during crunch time last season and all of a sudden they’re more rootable (root-worthy?) than Dennis Quaid in a Disney movie. But let’s be real here for a minute: The Rangers 2016 pitching staff is relying on Yu Darvish’s off-season elbow surgery to make him a miracle workhorse and though Adrian Beltre in a contract year and Prince Fielder in any year can mash, I just don’t think the staff is where it needs to be to repeat last year’s late run. Their 2014 ERA was 4.49, expect them to revert and hover somewhere around there by August.

Washington Nationals: 15:1

AJ: Forget it. EVERYONE’s sexy pick this year is still a franchise in flux. Dusty Baker is a players’ manager and some of his mojo will re-unite whatever shambles of a clubhouse he walks into. But beyond Harper and a bevvy of young talent that may make its way up by August—especially if this is a transition season—Washington’s biggest regret in five years may be how they squandered both Strasburg and Scherzer in their prime.

Kyle: Forget it. Dusty Baker will sweep up whatever toxic bullshit Matt Williams dumped into the Nationals’ dugout last year, but that doesn’t solve the problems of Jayson Werth logging just 330 ABs in an(other) injury-shortened season, Ryan Zimmerman’s continued slide toward ‘that guy is still playing?’ status and the loss of SS Ian Desmond, who, while miserable last year, provided a little bit of pop from a position that traditionally brings none of that. This team, sort of like Boston, is trying to spend itself beyond some really systemic issues.

Los Angeles Dodgers: 16:1

AJ: Bet it! I’m a big believer in new skipper Dave Roberts as a clubhouse “glue guy.” During his short tenure with the Giants he acted as a human shield for Barry Bonds and kept the scribes in stitches while The GOAT* chased down Ruth and Aaron. It worked, at least insofar that Barry got his. Now that the hapless Friar front office have let one of their best baseball minds go in Roberts without as much as an ice cream cake (see: Bruce Bochy part II: On the Move). Roberts rides into LA with a similarly poisonous clubhouse personae to contend with in Yasiel Puig. I don’t think the oft-reported rumors of the likes of Kershaw and Grienke thinking that the fine Cuban’s constant antics are polarizing are exaggerated. And LA’s failure to keep the latter along with GM Farhan Zaidi’s—the Canadian-born Pakastani who is a MIT- and Berkeley-educated philosophy PhD—inability to make much of a splash in the free agent market seems proof of this. Although signing Scott Kazmir to a three-year, $48 million contract seems like the steal of the winter talks. The Dodgers played “small ball” in the offseason and that may finally be a sign of a team, and front-office, coming into its own.

Kyle: Forget it. Most of this lineup fell off a cliff at the end of last season, from the old standbys (Adrian Gonzalez, .233 in September; Howie Kendrick, .235) to the kids (Joc Pederson, .197, Puig, DNP). The only guys pitching in were Andre Ethier and Carl Crawford–not exactly war horses you can count on when the chips are down. Losing Zach Grienke doesn’t make your organization better, especially when those wins are disappearing within the division.

New York Yankees: 16:1

AJ: Bet it! I have ulteriors here, I must admit. I’m Jonesing for a Dodgers/Yankees World Series. It may sound like heresy. It may be the two franchises I was bred to hate most in real life, but what about a true fall classic with two classic teams on the upswing (not to mention, two very classic cities to celebrate such a thing) doesn’t sound delicious? The small-market squads have broken into the mainframe and dissected the code: It’s about scouting and pitching and…well, more foreign scouting, stupid. The Dodgers and the Yankees, still one-two respectively in payroll, have quietly remained stagnant with their spending over the last three seasons and lots of the monies they’ve committed to the 2016 roster is for players who are no longer with the organization or taking the field. You’ve also seen the top 10 payrolls creep nose-to-nose what used to be the lead horses who led by lengths. So as the league and its best players have gotten richer, the rich have pulled back a bit. If you look at the actual projected Yankee lineup, you’ve got a few lions in winter now loveable again in their old age (A-Rod, Beltran), a few very cheerable veterans (Teixeira and Headley) and some young guns plugging the middle infield like Starlin Castro and Didi Gregorious that are Webgem eligible mostly every night. What’s not to like about a good-mix ballclub helmed by the unflappable Joe Girardi?

Kyle: Forget it. To answer your last question there, AJ: a lot. The problems are, again, structural. You’re going to get 150-plus innings out of a 35-year old CC Sabathia who’s coming off of rehab? If you do, what quality will they be? You’re going to get 400-500 ABs out of A-Rod, Tex and Beltran? They all have pop, true enough, but they aren’t going to work counts (315 Ks between them) or anything else to extend innings if some key pieces go down. It’s not a roster built to head into battle. Last year was the perfect storm of good health, a weak league and lots of games against the Rays and late-season Orioles. I do like the young talent on this team, but when you’re depending on the old guys to hit the lotto twice in a row, you’re taking a bet that I wouldn’t.

Pittsburgh Pirates: 18:1

AJ: Forget it. As much as it pains me to say, I think the Pirates missed their window. Four consecutive playoff appearances and subsequent bow-outs have me thinking the 2016 Pirates are very reminiscent of the 1995 Bills. They’ve tasted success. They know what it takes to get there. But they can’t quite close the deal.

Kyle: Forget it. How do you catch the Cubs now? Certainly not by spending the way the Pirates have to, which is wisely but budget-conscious. They let Pedro Alvarez walk during the offseason, which is absolutely the right move because the man couldn’t defend a killer cop in front of an all-white jury. But, Alvarez hit 30, 36, 18 and 27 homeruns in the last four seasons. He’s the kind of guy you’d keep around if you could afford to give up the runs he’ll cost you at a corner infield spot. But the Pirates can’t, and like AJ says above, the window is closed.

St Louis Cardinals: 18:1

AJ: Bet it! Here’s what I wrote about the Cards last year at 12:1: Ordinarily, I’d like to see this more at 20/1 but Matheny’s Cards are like clockwork; guaranteed LCS appearance, what happens from there, nobody knows. This year at 18:1 they’re a little closer odds-wise to my liking. Folks are also insta-forgetting the injury-plagued Cardinals finished first in the NL Central before being quickly dispatched by the Cubs (3-1) in the LDS. At some point last season pretty much all of the Cards’ opening day starters were on the DL: Jason Heyward, Adam Wainwright (out for the season with an achilles) Jaime Garcia, Randal Grichuk, Jon Jay, and Matt Holliday all missed significant time—and in crunch time. Heyward took off for division rival Chicago, but the redbirds still seem formidable even in the shadow of the Windy City behemoth with Adam Wainwright, Holliday, Jay and co. returning at full speed along with Yadier Molina, Jhonny Peralta, Lance Lynn, Matt Carpenter, Jorden Walden and Aledmys Diaz. Injuries are infectious and St. Louis had more than their share to truncate the campaign that saw them not advancing to the LCS for the first time since ‘09. Don’t be surprised to see them back on a championship track in 2016.

Kyle: Forget it. AJ, injuries aren’t a disease in STL, they’re a symptom. This is an aging team with key pieces like Wainright (two of his last five seasons have ended in less than 28 innings), Matt Holliday (missed 88 games last year) and 33-year old catcher Yadier Molina (late season neck injury) missing significant time with bumps and bruises. The next-gen guys like Michael Wacha and Randal Grichuk haven’t quite dialed in the consistency yet. It all comes back to closing a gap on the Cubs, and I can’t see St. Louis doing it.

Toronto Blue Jays: 18/1

AJ: Bet it! Oddsmakers seem to have gotten the Blue Jays and the Red Sox reversed. With a resurgent fanbase in Toronto and a team that can mash with the best of any in the last half-decade, I like the Jays’ chances of a repeat postseason performance. The offseason focus has been on the loss of David Price to the Red Sox and that intra-division transfer hurts almost as much as when Jason Heyward traded Cardinal red for Cubbies blue. Remember though how much scribes like to trump up these deals and these rivalries in the ugly sweater party months and none of it ever amounts to much by May. The reality is Price doesn’t make the Sox rotation better beyond him and the Jays are mostly not worse off without him, even if there is no clear All Star-caliber starter beyond Marcus Stroman. The architect of last year’s team Alex Anthropolous (think the Donaldson trade) may be the more regrettable exit from the organization especially if they’re looking for a few sneaky deals for arms come deadline. But with the aforementioned AL MVP back at third along with Jose Bautista, Edwin Encarnacion and a full season of Troy Tulowitzki…the Sky Dome’s Rogers Centre the limit.

Kyle: Bet it! Marcus Stroman should be back for a whole season this year. The 24 y/o righty missed most of last season with an injury, but in 2014 was striking out 7.6 per nine and last year went 4-0 in his four late-season, high-pressure starts. Don’t think the Jays will miss David Price as much as pundits say they will. Plus, they’ll have a whole season of Troy Tulowitzki holding things down on that new dirt infield. Jose Bautista seemed as locked-in as any player in baseball late last year and Josh Donaldson is, hands-down, Canada’s favorite Alabamian. I’d guess another boisterous October at SkyDome.

Arizona Diamondbacks: 25:1

AJ: Forget it. Sexy pick no. 2, everyone’s loving the D-backs…with the exception, perhaps, of most Arizonans. Arizona drew 23rd out of 30 MLB franchises last season (approx. 25k/game) not terrible but considering the Giants would probably draw that to Scottsdale Stadium if they put bleachers on top of Camelback. Concession lines or no, the Dbacks are pushing all-in this season to give Goldschmidt and co. some support on the mound. Arizona overpaid for Grienke, who at 32 probably doesn’t have six good years left on that right arm of his, but who cares? It was a statement signing for a team whose farm is starting to bear fruit (similar to Zito’s $127 million contract in 2007 with the Giants—remember when that number was insane btw?) If you look at the Zito administration including a trio of World Series rings, it seemed to have worked out pretty OK to have a perennial All-Star-caliber pitcher show some of the young guns the way. I’d like a year or two for these snakes to marinate before I can place a Jackson on them winning it all, but they definitely will be in the hunt for the division (or wild card) and in the unusual position of being buyers come mid-July.

Kyle: Forget it. OK, so Grienke is there, and Paul Goldschmidt can mash, but look at the rest of this roster. Nick Ahmed (.226) and Chris Owings (.227) are your middle infield. Rubby de la Rosa, your probable #2 pitcher, gave up 32 homers last year, one of the highest totals in the league. He is also a grown man called Rubby. Tyler Clippard struck out 64 batters over 71 innings last year, down from 82 over 70 in 2014 and 73 over 71 in 2013. The D-Backs obviously looked for efficiencies after betting the farm on Grienke, and I’m just not sure a roster constructed this way–without at least one more big bat or a secondary arm–is what is going to get you to the promised land.

Cleveland Indians: 25:1

AJ: Bet it! It’s important to remember the Tribe are slow starters and hot finishers so don’t get too down on the indigenous peoples if they come limping out of the gate. If Michael Brantley (Shoulder surgery) can return to form, the AL’s possible best battery (14-game-winner Carlos Carraso, Corey Kluber who K’d 245 and Danny Salazar whose ERA was under 3.5…in Cleveland) and, well, this might be the Tribe’s closest near-miss season since ‘98.

Kyle: Forget it. There are still far too many ABs to go around for far too few good batters.

Detroit Tigers: 25:1

Kyle: Bet it! While the rest of the division stood pat, the Tigers went out and got Jordan Zimmerman and Justin Upton (the Upton who still strikes out a ton but also mashes friggin taters). And, in a locally-kept secret, Justin Verlander learned the difference between pitching and throwing during the second half of last year. Through June, he was striking out just 3.57 batters per nine and walking 4. In August and September, he was punching out 8.5 batters per nine and walking just 2.1. His late starts last season were vintage Verlander in the late innings–he was dialing it up above 95 after the sixth–but also a JV most Tigers fans hadn’t seen before. He painted the corners, buried pitches low and away for his infield to clean up and generally looked like he cared about his craft beyond blowing people away. This may be a lot of cornbread and Kool-Aid, but I think Verlander may be on his way to a late-career resurgence.

AJ: Forget it. Detroit’s a curious ballclub. I thought last year the Tigers were going to be dusting off grandma’s recipe cards and rolling pin and starting from scratch in 2016. At least that’s what the disappointing 2015 season which led to a mini fire sale at the deadline that sent David Price, Yoenis Cespedes and Joakim Soria and the dismissal of GM Dave Dombrowski told me. Fear not, a couple of big under-30 off-season acquisitions (see: above) and Verlander fresh off the plane from Jamaica with Taye Diggs Kate Upton in his carry-on and the Tigs’ kids well contend. The only problem is Detroit still features too many non-key holdovers from their 2012 pennant-winning ballclub and not enough depth in the rotation.

Kansas City Royals: 25:1

AJ: Bet it! They lost the services of Ben Zobrist and all the magic he keeps in his carpetbagging shaving kit, but this ballclub as a whole is still the defending champs and still has made it to the show two years in a row. The AL Central is suddenly the toughest division in baseball (Cleveland, Minnesota, Detroit…even Chicago will contend) and that makes this the year where KC either shows all things must pass…or maybe Ned Yost knows something you don’t.

Kyle: Bet it! I love a staff caught by Sal Perez. A lot of these guys have been through the fire, too, Edinson Volquez and Yordano Ventura in last year’s World Series and grinders like Joakim Soria and Luke Hochevar each have more than a decade of service time in the pen. The lineup has the same holes Ned Yost was able to paper over last year, so why question what works?

Los Angeles Angels: 25:1

AJ: Forget it. The Angels can’t get on base and when they do it’s usually temporary—for a round-tripper. This feast or famine runs-in-bunches mentality has always been a hallmark of sorts for Sciosia baseball in the shadow of the Matterhorn. The only problem with the Angels this year is they’re still so heavily reliant on Jered Weaver and CJ Wilson to be the Jared Weaver and CJ Wilson they were supposed to be, not the ones the rest of the league wants them to be. Mike Trout won’t be this good forever and I hate to see this phase in his career squandered.

Kyle: Forget it. After Weaver and Wilson, you have Garrett Richards, who pitched 40 more innings (107) than he ever has before, the untested Andrew Heaney and his skyrocketing ERA in the second half of the season, and Matt Shoemaker, who backslid last year. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for Weaver, 33, and Wilson, 35, to drop off with age. The window has closed in Disneyland.

Seattle Mariners: 35: 1

AJ: Forget it. Seattle was all kinds of disappointing last season with Robinson Cano and Felix Hernandez moving into their prime. Granted, Jerry Dipoto’s front office was the busiest in the bigs this summer grabbing Adam Lind, Nori Aoki, Wade Miley, Joaquin Benoit, Steve Cishek, Leonys Martin, Chris Iannetta and Nate Karns off the bargain heap. This is the kind of re-tooling that can get you to the playoffs, maybe, if it takes. It also, more likely, can get you into a tie for last in the AL West with the A’s and the aforementioned superstars pushing for a trade at the deadline.

Kyle: Forget it. Today’s AL probably isn’t a place where you’ll find air in the playoff race with a cobbled-together roster. Starting pitcher Hisashi Iwakuma has passed his sell-by date (2013, when he pitched 219 innings, a figure he hasn’t come close to since) and Miley’s ERA has ballooned by a run over the past four years. That can’t be your plan after King Felix when you’re playing for a wild card spot against Anaheim, Detroit, Cleveland, Minnesota, New York and Boston.

Baltimore Orioles: 50:1

AJ: Forget it. Officially getting into longshot territory here, the Orioles, who haven’t had a losing season in a half-decade, may be heading that way. For starters, the ballclub has never been known spendthrifts around MLB circles and yet they commit more than $200 million to shore up the services of Darren Day, Matt Wieters and Chris Davis? Huh. That’s like saying, “We like being a .500 club and will pay a premium to keep it that way.” <–Possible Orioles slogan for 2016.

Kyle: Forget it. As AJ points out above, there were so many other holes to spend on with the $12 million Baltimore gave Chris Davis, starting with rotational help.

Chicago White Sox 50:1

AJ: Forget it. I was on the verge of saying put a 20 spot down on this just to keep it interesting and to have a shot at a cool G courtesy the South Siders come November, but, again, the Central’s just too stacked for the White Sox not to be dining off table scraps this season. Which is really too bad, because even though the North Siders will be grabbing the headlines, the ChiSox have some interesting bats in Alex Avila and Brett Lawrie. Unfortunately, that’s about all they’ve got.

Kyle: Forget it. The braintrust on the South Side muffed a shot at competing this year when they decided to let it ride with Chris Sale, Jose Abreu and the same roster that netted them a fourth place finish last year. To not try to buy more talent to put around Sale–an ace cut from the purest cloth–is absurd. Don’t bet on the Sox when their own management won’t.

Minnesota Twins 50:1

AJ: Bet it! …On the other hand, there’s those resurgent Twins. Nobody seemed to notice the twinkies were playing .600 or better ball down the stretch until they came into the AL Wild Card conversation in mid-September like an ex employee who shows up drunk at the company Christmas party. The Twins were easy to root for late last season as Torii gave Target Field something to cheer about for the first time in nearly a decade during his farewell tour. Don’t let Hunter and Joe Mauer’s 2015 resurgence fool you, the young nucleus of pitcher Jose Berrios and CF Byron Buxton could elicit comparisons to (ready?) Frank Viola and Kirby Puckett in a couple year’s time. Yes, take that flier at 50:1—because they do grow up fast these days.

Kyle: Forget it. Many of the pieces are there and will be better than last season, when they pushed the rest of the central for a wild card spot. What’s missing is pop in the bats–power outlets in 1B Joe Mauer, DH Byung-Ho Park and RF Miguel Sano hit just 28 big league homers between them last season (Park was in the KBO where he plugged the last two seasons with 52 and 53 dingers, respectively. Still, how does that translate?) In a division featuring Miguel Cabrera, JD Martinez, Jose Abreu, Mike Moustakas and Eric Hosmer, you need to find more than that.

Tampa Bay rays 60:1

AJ: Forget it! History shows Tampa can be totally just OK and totally sneaky at the same time. But the Rays didn’t do much in the offseason to shore up any guarantees that they’re going to match their win total (80) of 2015. The team that perennially seems like it’s cleaning house of youngish talent (the A’s of the East) never gives us a chance to see what they can really do—except for profit share. Huge holes in the rotation after Chris Archer and no bats raise, once more, the discussion as to whether MLB might be right to start their contraction talks in the strip club capital of West Coast Florida.

Kyle: Forget it. The top of the staff is nice between Archer, Jake Odorizzi and Drew Smyly and there’s a little pop around the infield but the outfield is a witness protection program and the bullpen doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence for guys who are going to have to eat 3-plus innings night three nights a week.

Cincinnati Reds: 120:1

AJ: Forget it. A few of 2015-’16’s moribund franchises, Cincinnati being one of them—Atlanta and Philly are the other two that come to mind—are historically too good to be kept down for long. Unfortunately, this isn’t the Reds’ year to rise up. Losers of more than 100 games last year, the re-tooled Reds should show signs of life in 2016, the start of the rebuild campaign. Patience. For as Cubs and Astros fans well know, it can take a half-decade plus a few lucky pick-ups to get there. In the meantime, Joey Votto is still around to take two-pitch at-bats.

Kyle: Forget it. Starter Homer Bailey is coming off of Tommy John, Anthony DeSclafani is coming off a season where he pitched 150 more innings than he did in 2014 and Raisel Iglesias gives up a little more than a dinger a game. The lineup can’t possibly put enough runs on the board to let the rotation settle in.

Miami Marlins: 120:1

Kyle: Bet it! While the rotation isn’t really close, the lineup has intriguing pieces scattered throughout the infield. Adeiny Hechavarria and Dee Gordon might be the best middle infield in the sport and both can use their legs to power their averages. Gordon can be a one-man wrecking crew on the basepaths, swiping 58 bags last year, and he sets a mean table for Stanton to clear. Martin Prado exhausts pitchers with a good eye at the plate and if CF Marcel Ozuna can regain his 2014 form, there aren’t many easy patches in this lineup for opposing pitchers. The NL is replete with bad teams, so somebody has to make it, yes? Take a flier.

AJ: Forget it. Unless hitting coach Barry Bonds can introduce Giancarlo Stanton to The Clear (or at least show him how to eat a Kit Kat) well, there really are no good side stories coming out of Miami, except, you know, this is where most visiting players will check on the status of their custom whips.

Milwaukee Brewers 120:1:

AJ: Forget it. What have oddsmakers suddenly gotten lazy at the bottom of the board and decided to go in alphabetical order? GM David Stearns is still smarting from Ryan Braun’s back surgery…and the fact that the hammer is just now getting into the nine-figure portion of his 2011 contract extension. Yikes. I take no joy in this hapless bunch, other than the fact that Bud Selig still owns part of this dire outfit. Oh yeah, and sausage races.

Kyle: There’s no way the Brewers find oxygen in the Central. Chicago and St. Louis alone went 27-11 against the Brew Crew last year, and Pittsburgh may have taken a step back but the Brewers aren’t going to find enough wins to even think about the playoffs in 2016.

Oakland Athletics 120:1

AJ: Forget it. Even a hundred dollar bet yielding $12k doesn’t seem like it’s worth the effort in Oakland this year. Granted, they leapfrogged the Brewers this week with the acquisition of their potential All Star outfielder Khris Davis for a pair of prospects…if Oakland has deep pockets in anything, it’s prospects. And there’s some credence to the notion that Billy Beane is going to keep Cy Young candidate Sonny Gray in yellow stirrups for another few years, but don’t let any of that window dressing distract from the total product on the field: 2015’s fire sale has yet to produce any everyday players of note and the likes of Yonder Alonso, Henderson Alvarez and Jed Lowrie as stand-ins till the heirs to O.co ripen on the farm doesn’t make times too interesting this summer at the place next door to where the Warriors play. At least Bay Area hipsters still have a place to go watch artisanal baseball.

Kyle: Forget it. Oakland may not be terrible because there are wins to be had against Seattle and Anaheim but this is still largely a 4A squad. The outfield is competent with the revelatory Billy Burns playing center and Coco Crisp still hanging in there in left while Josh Reddick continues to improve from one-trick pony status in right. The infield is largely a collection of Ks in waiting.

San Diego Padres: 120:1

AJ: Forget it. However, bet the churro change that San Diego will be back on top with cap and jersey sales by mid-summer. That’s right, the Friars are bringing back the brown and yellow-piped unis (starting with Fridays only but you watch that merch move like Garbage Pail Kids out of the MLB shop) …hell, who doesn’t want in on one of these?

Kyle: Forget it. One year removed from a failed spending/signing spree that set the squad back a decade, look for the Pads to find some sort of happy medium playing mediocre baseball in the league’s toughest division.

Colorado Rockies: 250:1

AJ: Forget it. If only Colorado could play all its home games in a humidor with the rest of their gear. The offense will probably have the biggest run total in the MLB this year but there are, yet again, no arms in the starting rotation and with the notable exception of Jason Motte coming out of the pen, nothing there either. Believe me, I want so badly to take a flier on a NL West team at odds that are worse than a plus-size model ever gracing the cover of the Swimsuit Issue…whoops! See there, dreams do come true, just not twice in one year for the Mile-High city.

Kyle: Forget it. Starting to think it’ll never happen in Coors. How badly do you think they’d like the mid-’00s back?

Atlanta Braves: 350:1

AJ: Bet it! Here we go. First off, this is the last season at Turner Field and I remember not-so-long ago, when Turner Field opened. Am I getting old or is the half-life of a MLB stadium the same as my beige ‘96 Nissan Pathfinder? The Braves have done the right thing and are trying to have a new-look ballclub ready for the new stadium opening next year. The only problem is some of these kids look ready to go before the gates swing wide at SunTrust. As long as AJ Pierzynski doesn’t get in the way, the Braves could make a move in the saggy NL East.

Kyle: Forget it. The Braves are still parting out the remnants of the Frank Wren era–Freddie Freeman may be the next to head for the door via trade. The Braves are building toward having a competitive club in Cobb County next year. Don’t waste your money on ‘16.

Philadelphia Phillies: 350:1

AJ: Bet it! Officially the third potentially terrible team (Miami, Atlanta) in this division. Hell, throw Washington in there too. This pretty much means anyone can contend. Philly could be the worst of the worst in all of baseball and if the 6’ers weren’t falling all over one another in the paint across town, maybe all of sport. How do you trade away or cut virtually all of your 2010 LCS-attending team and get virtually nothing in return? You’re Philly, that’s how. Even so, put a sawbuck on this and gloat like the guy who bet his kid’s college fund on the ‘99 Rams pre-season when some odd Fanatic magic happens midseason to push them toward .500.

Kyle: Forget it. The Phils are finally looking like a team that is moving past 2008–Ryan Howard is the last man standing from that era with the club. The right people are reportedly in place in the front office and some of the kids are starting to surface after years of good draft positioning. Keep an eye on Philly in the future, but turn it off for this year.

…At any rate, enjoy the season. And especially enjoy Vin’s final year:

The Trinity of West Coast Baseball

Is this [broadcaster] heaven? No, it’s California.

By Kyle Magin

There’s a place, somewhere near the sun’s resting place, where baseball is still told as a story.

Octogenarians and a sexagenarian do the telling in tasteful suits on TV and over the airwaves. They contextualize Yasiel Puig or Madison Bumgarner’s dazzling ability in baseball’s century-old saga with charming anecdotes woven in and out of the play-by-play narrative.

They never step on their partners’ observations and add something to every broadcast you never knew before. They are some of the last, great voices of summer: Jon Miller (63) with the San Francisco Giants on KNBR and KNTV, Dick Enberg (80) with the San Diego Padres on Fox Sports San Diego and Vin Scully (87) with the Los Angeles Dodgers on SportsNet LA.

Re-discovering Enberg has legitimately been one of the highlights of the 2015 baseball season for me.

After watching my Tigers flounder with one of the sport’s richest payrolls, my girlfriend and I flip over to the Padres telecast. She’s a native San Diegan, which is good enough for me to claim we need to watch the games, even though she mainly plays Candy Crush while I let Enberg ease my blood pressure back to normal.

Even though the team is in fourth place, Enberg’s cadence (undoubtedly owing to his status as the voice of football in my childhood) lends weight to 16-2 blowouts and the endless, horrifying routes taken by Pads outfielder Matt Kemp. Sprinkle in an always apt and never shoe-horned anecdote about John Wooden from Enberg’s days as a play-by-play man with the Bruins and you can almost imagine yourself pulling a hoodie over your head and letting the sand slide out from your flip flops as you dangle your feet from a barstool beachside in Carlsbad.

While researching this column, it shocked me to find out Miller is only 63. In as tough a broadcasting crowd as you’ll ever find to stand out amongst—Enberg and Scully—he probably has the most distinctive voice. I remember sitting on the deck of a cabin my parents had rented in Lake Tahoe while I searched for a place to live here in 2007. My dad flipped on KNBR while we were barbecuing and I turned to him in amazement.

“They have Jon Miller call all of their games!?”

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that other teams had legendary voices do something as mundane as a daily broadcast. In a bit of reverse Midwestern modesty, I thought the Tigers’ late Ernie Harwell was the only such deity who deigned to call baseball daily, on the radio of all mediums.

Miller’s crisp calls and folksiness are one of the few things that have made interacting with the Giants pleasurable during their dynasty years as fans have piled onto the bandwagon. He humanizes an organization that’s gone so stratospheric in its success.

Scully, of course, is the dean of the group and of sports announcing in general. His dapper baby blue suits and pocket squares are as much the highlight of a Dodgers broadcast as the eloquent old grandpa reading fan Tweets and making them sound like sane, salient points with his impeccable enunciation.

Scully really shines when he’s telling some ribald tale, on par with the old allegation that Kevin Mitchell beheaded his girlfriend’s cat. He could talk about some roaring drunk assaulting his escorts and bailing out of county just in time to hit the winning home run for the boys in blue and make it seem like the most charming tale ever told. Scully routinely spins yarns that last a whole half inning without missing a beat in the here-and-now.

Now, lest you think I like these guys just because they’re aged, let me disabuse you of that notion right now. I reserve a large portion of the hate in my heart for one Ken “Hawk” Harrelson (73), announcer for the Chicago White Sox and known miscreant. He routinely abuses the English language in the least attractive ways possible ‘cause he’s reel excahted to see you at the ballpark on Mondee. The Sox fan-run blog heavethehawk.com sums up my feelings on him nicely: “Mr. Harrelson’s unique blend of non-standard English and ego-maniacal blather has made the mute button a must for Sox T.V. viewers during the last four decades.”

He’s everything wrong with anyone who’s been around the game for decades. Every broadcast is a trip to Hawk’s Glory Days, and he’s an unrepentant homer who wears windbreakers and sweater vests atop golf-outing polos. He also has a habit of leaving dead air just hanging when the Sox are getting their asses kicked.

His style couldn’t be more disparate from that of the Enberg-Miller-Scully triumvirate.

Maybe it’s the nine they can get in at Torrey Pines, Pebble or Riviera before heading to one of their never-rained-out games in the evening. Maybe it’s because of sweetheart, Keith Jackson-esque deals that have them mostly staying on the West Coast and avoiding the really shitty parts of the schedule. Probably it’s just that they care, are likeable and hardworking.

You don’t pick up great anecdotes being a jackass.

Lon Simmons’ legacy echoes from the booth this Opening Day

Sports columnist Jim Murray was eulogized by broadcaster Jack Whitaker as “one hell of a writer, but even a better person”; similar snippets were said of Lon Simmons, who passed away on the eve of 2015’s Opening Day at his home in Daly City.

By Andrew Pridgen

Lon Simmons, the 91-year-old voice of the Bay Area by way of Elko, Nev., was not just the nicest guy in baseball but maybe the whole of the Western Hemisphere—if morning-after soundbites are to be believed:

• “Just a nice man. He was always there for me in all kinds of situations. I’m really going to miss him.” — Willie Mays

• “I can’t imagine a life more fulfilled than his.” — Duane Kuiper

• “We got closer and closer over the years.” — Willie McCovey

• “There wasn’t a pretentious bone in his body. He was a humble man. He was a gentleman.” — Mike Krukow

• “He was a special guy.” — Dennis Eckersley

We become all the great things we only should have been the minute we stop breathing. And the people who bickered with us, disagreed with us, tolerated us sing the torch songs. Suddenly they’re the lucky ones, not just to be breathing, but to have known us.

It’s how it works.

You fudge a little on this side of the ground for the recently departed, because someday that’s you coughing up worms in the pine box. And that’s someone else clutching the edges of the dais trying to choke back laughter or tears; trying to give the best, cleanest, most mending version of you they can.

Simmons, the recipient of the Hall of Fame’s 2004 Ford C. Frick Award for contributions to broadcasting, was in on all the important Bay Area sporting events—both sides of the Bay Bridge—for the last five decades.

He joined the 49ers on-air team in 1957 and, before moving to the Giants, called A’s games from ‘81-’95 with the legendary Bill King. In 1989, he enjoyed broadcasting both the World Series and the Super Bowl: the A’s took the Giants down in four after a big quake nine months after the 49ers’ last-minute win over the Bengals.

His signature home run call, “Tell it Good-bye” is immortalized by John Forgerty in Put Me in Coach, a snippet of which will be heard in all 15 Major League stadiums today and on every game day until a comet hits us.

Read More A Salute to Scully

But there was something more there, an actual good guy behind the microphone—a man emulated.

To me, Lon Simmons was a bit sandpaper-dry coming through the radio. I much prefer the sub-tropical breezes of Hall-of-Famer Jon Miller’s floral-print Aloha tales and spicy Adios pelota! home run call in broken Spanish.

But it doesn’t stop with Miller. Giants fans have been blessed with the sounds of Kruk and Kuip, two of the most seamless and melodic friends who ever donned headsets. The pair has become the most effortless and endearing broadcast couple in all of sport.

Dave Flemming, the kid who looks like he’s going to water your lawn and get your mail for a week, is starting his second decade in the booth as Miller’s play-by-play partner. Once the cherub-faced Stanford grad fully ripens, say in another season or two, there will be no better voice upstairs than the man who has already made this call:

Lee pitches…Rentería hits a high drive, deep left-center field, David Murphy going back, he’s on the warning track, IT IS…GOOONNNNE! Edgar Rentería…has hit a three-run homer…against Cliff Lee! And the Giants lead here in the World Series, 3-0!

…and this one:

Romo shakes off Posey. Now has the one he likes. Romo’s 2-2 pitch on the way… Cabrera TAKES STRIKE THREE CALLED! And the Giants have won the World Series in Detroit! And the celebration begins as the Giants mob the mound!

Flemming’s timing, ease and acute sense of humor is the direct result of Simmons’ tutelage. It’s a West Coast brand of dropping the rigidity in favor of flavor and a little bit of self-deprecation.

Along with Vin Scully, there was nobody better at chasing a bit of coastal fog into the storm drain to reveal the California Saturday afternoon sun with a clanging Welcome to the ballpark. I remember Lon’s languid summers well. My father, after a morning spent weed wacking, deck stripping or lawn fertilizing with that little red monkey grinder of his, would cast a sun dial’s shadow in his folding chair with Lon and his faithful pooch by his side. Sometimes, my mother would have to go roust him to start up the barbecue.

Beyond the thousands of Bay Area dads catching a quick snooze to his dulcet and drawn-out resonance, Simmons left behind two generations of the best broadcasters in the land. Friends on the air and soulmates, brothers and caretakers off it. Connected to the community and letting us join them, every pitch, every pause to take in the stadium murmur—every explosion off the bat and inside-joke laugh spilling over from the break.

If leaving that legacy doesn’t make you a good person, I don’t know what does.

 

Pints and Picks Week 5: Pink Month!

Each week DPB’s Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen will pour on the prose with Pints and Picks™. Who to wager and what to drink while doing it. Here then, is their point-counterpoint for Oct. 4, 2014. Or, if you’re in the car, simply scroll down for the recap (they may be verbose, but it’s better than clicking through a slideshow).

AJ: AWWWW YEAH KM, you know what month it is (Hint: 31 days of black, orange and puce; like Rob Zombie gets to design his own My Little Pony for the Bronies). That’s right, it’s October. And you know what that means (besides decorative gourd season is upon us). It’s bitch-don’t-be-frontin-muther-lovin PINK MONTH.

You already know how much I love big for-profit companies making a mint off eager ambivalence during breast cancer month.

But what I really love is when Nike—the leading cause of child labor infractions this side of the Kali-worshipping Thuggee cult, not to mention the source of rivers running electric black carcinogenic sludge through once peaceful villages in faraway lands where stitching soccer balls or human trafficking is your only way to 22 miserable years on this hunk of spinning stardust and ephemera—gets in the mix with their pink swooshes and numbers and helmets and shit. Makes me feel so much better about doing nothing about a disease I can do nothing about yo.

I also super love it when they maybe auction off like three things and give some of that money to charities like Susan G which basically makes a bunch of people dress up and walk around and then like a bunch of dicks and uses its powers to pull their funding from Planned Parenthood because, I guess it’s not a woman’s choice whether she gets cancer OR pregnant.

So, that’s cool.

What’s also cool is when the NFL gets involved and sells a crap-ton of merch to people who don’t believe in waiting till November to buy pink socks on clearance and then they give back less than sales tax to the American Cancer Society (eight percent). NICE!

But what I really love is college getting in the act. Oregon Thursday wore the aforementioned future landfill of the 50,000-year half-life variety (pink unis) in Eugene against the similarly undefeated Arizona Wildcats.

Once again, Oregon did it to “raise awareness”. I once told this loan shark who I owed $12k to after a particularly bad weekend in Henderson, Nevada during March that I needed a little more time, but in the meantime, I had a lot of awareness about the situation I was in. A broken nose and four teeth in my back pocket later and I found out that having awareness doesn’t come close to actually ponying up cash.

At least Nike/Oregon had the good decency to partner up with the Kay Yow cancer fund this year but it is still unclear whether any actual dollars go their way to fight a disease that kills about 40k Americans per year (versus about 7.4 million worldwide who die of heart disease, 6.7 million for stroke, 1.5 million for HI/AIDS, 1.5 from Diarrhoeal diseases and 1.3 million from getting hit by cars)

So, I’m going to “raise awareness” this weekend by donating Friday lunch money to water.org to give a village free water for a month and staying off the road. Seems that will contribute a lot more to eradication than rooting for a team that looks like a roller derby squad under the sartorial influence of Rizzo.

Because no marketing misdeed disguised as a good deed goes unpunished, Oregon and its RIDICULOUS 22.5-point spread shall be vanquished Thursday. And Phil Knight’s stadium shall crack in the middle and melt into the Willamette like a Cadbury Egg and all the ribald ignorance of Oregon’s fleeting fan base shall flow with it back to the hinterlands of college football relevance. And all will be right with the world, someday. Maybe.

Whoa, my fingers are all sweaty now Kyle. What say you?

Kyle: “Bitch, I couldn’t be more alert.”

Those are the immortal words of Tina Fey in the first Saturday Night Live Weekend Update after 9/11 when referencing the old color-coded ‘terror threat’ thingy.

They mirror my sentiments nicely about breast cancer. This isn’t now (was it ever?) a disease anyone I’m familiar with is unaware of. I’d love for the NFL and NCAA come to this realization and step up to the plate for something we could all stand to learn a little more about.

Frankly, I’d love to see the league clad in purple, which I understand is the color for domestic violence (I definitely see the Ravens irony in that one). Also, who the hell selects cause colors? Is there some think-tank of ridiculously hot former PR women who sit around and decide rectal blastoma gets burnt orange? Please, please let that be how this happens.

AJ, I know we try to keep it light here, but I have a friend struggling with a domestic violence issue and it’s an incredibly depressing situation. She, like any number of dv’s victims, is smart, talented at her work and incredibly loved by her friends and family. That’s why I’ll use this opportunity to ‘raise awareness’ about domestic abuse—which, like breast cancer, knows no class, education level or race and can also kill indiscriminately.

Unlike cancer, it’s entirely preventable, but we don’t do nearly enough to fight it. The people working on the ground against domestic violence are damn saints and—of course—use a kit of resources MacGyver couldn’t work with to perform minor miracles. What they’d do with 8 percent of a month’s worth of NFL merch would probably get us down the road to saving the world. I’m going to throw a small donation the way of Tahoe SAFE Alliance, who work tirelessly to provide a safe environment for women and families in my town. I hope some of you will do the same where you live.

Man, segueing back into football just isn’t really natural from there, so we’ll stay here in this unnatural world and take a look at Michigan +3 at Rutgers.

I hate hate Michigan, but when I saw this game on the schedule (prime time in NJ) I got a little pissed for the Wolverines. Rutgers and Maryland are both getting absolute gifts in the B1G’s scheduling matrix–night games at home against ratings-bait league powers–in exchange for joining the league. I was sure the Wolverines were going to roll into the Garden State and make mincemeat of the Knights. Then the Notre Dame game happened, and the Utah game, and last week against Minnesota. The Wolves are in a free-fall and an offense that managed less than 100 yards through the air last week can’t give their D a blow. Rutgers has a prolific offense (against inferior competition) and a pretty stout D.

Senior Quarterback Gary Nova is a bit like early Aroldis Chapman–I have no idea where this ball is going but I’ll keep throwing anyway–and is already more than halfway to a respectable 2,500-yard season with 10 TDs and 7 picks. If he gets the chance, he’ll test the hell out of a tired defense. I don’t think they get all over UM, but on the same token, I can’t, in good conscience, pick the Wolverines to cover even a close line.

Holy shit man; cancer, domestic violence, Brady Hoke’s death flails. Good luck steering this thing back into anything that won’t have its readers (Hi Mom! Hi Mrs. Pridgen!) crying their eyes out tonight.

AJ: For starters Kyle, I owe a bit of an apology. Your Sharon-Stone-as-Ginger-sharp depiction of what month it is and how we should turn and focus our attention to other, bigger and sometimes, more powerful problems was the stop-me-in-my-tracks apotheosis of this feature. I almost decided to drop the curtain right there and call it good.

Since then, Oregon got its just desserts for pandering and marketing its team which clearly can be outcoached by a not-great-coach and can not defend the run nor create a pocket for today’s most effective collegiate passer, and went ahead and choked down its second-consecutive multi-million-dollar loss to Arizona …albeit this time at home.

Also, the Giants pitched their way into the playoffs and look to be stingy against the young and worthy Nationals, so much that I think they’ll go ahead and face Los Doyers next weekend at Chavez—this is part wishful thinking as I’m already booked to go see the Ducks start their road to the Vegas Bowl against a should-be-heavily-favored running/passing/scoring machine that is UCLA …and would rather slurp down a couple-a Dodger Dogs and turn to see Vin up in the booth instead of stumbling around a golf course in East Pasadena.

Your Tigs have dug themselves into a deeper hole than Mr. Slate’s top rock puller against the transcendent Oriels and, well, if I see that ESPN GameDay Ole Miss promo custom-made for frat guys armed with toofey grins, daddy’s cash from the family Subway franchises and a palm full-o date rape drugs for the punch bowl, (especially in light of your above comments), I may just double over and cough up the rest of my flu shot vaccine. Man those things make you woozy.

Oh, the most forgettable Fincher flick since the one about aging in reverse but still only chasing after one gal (I don’t care if Fitzgerald is the author of the Ben Button source material—no 70-year-old man in a 19-year-old’s body is going to do anything but become a loathsome clubbing predator on a tear) was also released Friday. Granted, it’s based on a page-turner only to be read if it’s stowed in the seatback in front of you, but still, Neil Patrick Harris doesn’t quite have the shadow-drop over his eyes to pull off sinister in the third act.

And, DPB launched its sister site, Blind Tree this week. It’s about living in and enjoying the outdoors responsibly, and I’m not just talking about arsonists, but more where you go, what you buy and what megaloresorts you’re giving your patronage to. The name means nothing btw, other than that there’s juxtaposition and Lilac Sunset, though available, sounds too much like a paint color. At least Blind Tree is evocative of an electric folk quartet from Moab.

Check it out if you have a minute.

….Shameless plugs aside, it’s time for some picks, then I’ll pass the mic back to you KM to see if you have a cherry on top.

Stanford -1 at Notre Dame: Stanford wins by 10. Notre Dame hasn’t played anyone, much less a D this stingy. I’m starting to believe the top-four Pac 12 teams (Arizona, Utah, Stanford and UCLA — don’t laugh) can beat anyone.

LSU +8 at Auburn: The Tigers get their groove back on the road. Auburn doesn’t have its front five to fall back on and they’re too slow for the Tigers’ secondary. Take the points.

Utah +13 at UCLA: UCLA’s got back-to-back homegames and should emerge victorious on both and firmly the team to beat in the conference looking toward a FCS playoff berth. The Utes only showed about a quarter of their potential physicality-meets-speed at Michigan (because that’s all they needed.) Their secondary can hang and Travis Wilson toe-to-toe with Brett Hundley promises an 800-yard bonanza in Pasadena. Not an upset but a game the Utes should keep within a score if they don’t get overwhelmed early by the lack of crowd noise.

And look, I made it through without a single Erin Andrews reference!

Kyle:

Onto the picks:

I like Western Michigan +6 at home against MAC favorites Toledo. The Broncos have an offense that’s put together strong drives against superior teams like Purdue and Virginia Tech. Give them a full game against a like-talented foe and I’m guessing they cover.

Also, watch for another battle under the lights in Reno against Boise St. and the Nevada Wolf Pack. I line the Pack to cover +4.5 strictly because Boise’s secondary is decimated and they can’t get a pass game going. They’re likely the better team, but Nevada’s Cody Fajardo has been great this season and he gives the Pack a chance to win on his last drive.

The PnP Recap:

Last week:
AJ: 0-1
Kyle: 1-1

Overall:
AJ: 8 for 13
Kyle: 2 for 8

This week:

AJ:
• Arizona + 22.5 at Oregon
• Stanford -1 at Notre Dame
• LSU +8 at Auburn
• Utah +13 at UCLA

Kyle:
• Western Michigan +6 vs Toledo
• Nevada +4.5 vs Boise State

Pints and Picks Week 4: No bye week for bad bets

Each week DPB’s Kyle Magin and Andrew J. Pridgen will pour on the prose with Pints and Picks™. Who to wager and what to drink while doing it. Here then, is their point-counterpoint for Sept 27, 2014. Or, if you’re in the car, simply scroll down for the recap (they may be verbose, but it’s better than clicking through a slideshow).

AJ: Kyle, why are there bye weeks in college football? I mean, I get why they’re there in the NFL—basically an opportunity to get arrested in the club and for the league to fuck with fantasy owners who deserve to be fucked with. But there’s no reason for this in college other than maybe to see what FCS campus gets the biggest spike in date rape and frat house electronics raids over the idle weekend.

I only ask this because bye weeks in college used to not exist and now that they do, it brings an even bigger air of “professionalism” (air quotes) and indentured servitude to the amateur gridiron ranks. If the NCAA said, “We schedule bye weeks around midterms because academics” I’d be good with that. Happy even. But the real reason is to stretch out the post-season and turn college football into a 20-week endeavor (i.e. almost two-thirds the academic year) for the almighty bottom line—of which the athletes themselves see not a penny (and that’s where the lap top thefts come in).

Since you’re pretty good about finding out the why of things the way I’m good at identifying the season of Magnum PI (and episodes) where he tries to track down the ghost of his allegedly deceased wife, let me know if you know.

Otherwise, I take it now that you’re off the schneid you’re not taking a bye this week.

Me, I’m still trying to feel this week out like a Junior High dance. There’s no match up that stands out as a stone cold lock; and it has to be watchable to be (not a word: betable). <-One of my cardinal rules—the other is to never trust a Yelp reviewer whose mouth is wide open on their profile photo.

For now, a couple quick comments:

• Why is Wyoming traipsing around the country in pursuit of getting bitch-slapped? Is it like an anything-is-better-than-staying-home-and-risk-getting-shot-in-the-face-by-Dick-Cheney thing? First Oregon and now Michigan State? It kind of reminds me of those Pat Hill-era Fresno State teams which burned through their Southwest miles to go get rolled up by the SEC and ACC and Big-10 before limping back to the parched Valley and dominating, um, Wyoming …and most of the rest of the Mountain West. To be fair, Wyoming does have a slightly guttier squad than they originally got credit for (think corn snow-fed defense) and should give Sparty fits for at least a quarter or two. If you can get a first-half prop bet for the Cowboys at +10 or above, that’s better odds than your drunk-as-fuck out-of-town guest trying to pull a credit card advance on the gaming floor.

• Missouri on the road at South Carolina getting only 6.5. The Gamecocks are hotter than a rescue pit mix locked in a ’93 Aerostar in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly since forgetting Manziel was in the NFL and dropping their opener against Texas A&M. The Cocks have won three straight and Missouri is reeling from what should’ve amounted to a midweek January stumble on the hardcourt to the Hoosiers at home last week. Can Mizzou regroup or will South Carolina’s Mike Davis and Brandon Wilds harass QB Maty Mauk who already has four ints to go with 14 teeders …and, you know what, this spread sucks. Fuck this game.

…I’m going to pause right there and say I was running some errands with a buddy during the lunch hour today (he’s planning a birthday party for a one-year-old which basically means crappy burgers, a weird sheet cake that is actually just flypaper with white frosting and a couple of fifths because apparently one is too young to remember seeing your folks and their friends black out) and we ended up at Costco. Still $1.50 for a polish and a soda.

The thing is, we were the only sub-octagenarains dining there. All these Burns-postured McMurphys who’d escaped from “Serene Gardens” next door were gumming on these intestines and entrails pressed into a tube while gangsta leaning off their Rascals made me wonder: Do the old folks know something I don’t? Like, If I have one meal left, it’s gotta be Costco (because it is glorious, especially when you remember to ask for the slaw) or does it just kill a lot of time to try to gum down a dog the size of your shriveled and veiny neck midday on a weekday when you’re at the station of life when time, quite literally, can’t go any slower—and yet, you don’t have much of it left.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I just have a lot more questions than answers this week.

Kyle? You there? You still reading?

Kyle: AJ, the middle school dance analogy couldn’t be more apt. I have an overwhelming urge to skip this week completely and tell all of our readers I was off doing some really cool stuff. In reality, I’ll probably be reading Madeleine L’Engle and trying to stay up for MadTV and hope my father (who, coincidentally, is visiting this weekend) doesn’t come out and turn it off when they swear for like the only time in the whole show.

MadTV featured the stylings of Michael McDonald (not this one, not that one, this one), a USC alum, and that’s my segue into talking about one of the only games that probably matter this weekend. With no ranked matchups, it’s going to be interesting to watch Oregon State-SC (-9) in the sense that it’ll be interesting to see your neighbor walk out the door with his 14-year-old dog tomorrow. Hey, still on the right side of the dirt, eh Fido?

The 2-1 Trojans are a technically, I suppose, still in the playoff race. Stanford exposed SC’s inability to get anything done in the red zone with a run game that’s hampered when it doesn’t have room to breath in a game the Trojans won 13-10. Boston College pantsed SC’s run defense in a 37-31 victory on Chestnut Hill. Both of these tell me the men of Troy aren’t yet sound in their line play. Mike Riley’s Beavers aren’t very good at running the ball on aggregate—they’re 91st in rushing in the nation—but in the first quarter, few offenses are as effective at running and passing the ball as 3-0 Oregon State, who put up more points early (10.5) than every other team in the Pac 12 North. If they can kick the Trojans’ line in the teeth early, I think OSU Quarterback Sean Mannion can play keep-up with a very potent SC passing attack.

Surveying the rest of the college football landscape leaves that bye week to be desired.

American Conference favorite Cincinnati visits Ohio State as a 15.5-point dog, and that’s halfway intriguing. Looking at the rest of this schedule is sort of like looking at the area surrounding Charleton Heston after that ship crashed in the first Planet of the Apes. Guess we’ll have to get walking.

AJ: Kyle, nice call on bringing the pops to town during the week of bettors doldrums. Now, instead of sitting indoors and inhaling the second-hand smoke of the sports book, the two of you can ramble around the Sierras inhaling the first-hand smoke of arsonists.

I think we agree this is a trap week as far as NCAA wagering goes. None of the spreads seem at all enticing and, as you pointed out, the dearth of compelling matchups (besides conference-centric spoiler games like Stanford at U-Dub) make this the week to take a BCS breather—and set the crosshairs on October baseball.

Namely Mr. Magin, the prospect of four very disparate and very under-(over?)achieving-for-different-reasons West Coast franchises making it to the playoffs.

It’s a Freaky Friday moment for baseball West of Lovelock. You’ve got the perennial lovable A’s who went out and made a splash at the trade deadline, only to wallow in the second half like so much locker room sludge through the AL West with dead arms and a listless clubhouse en route to a wildcard berth.

You have the predictably unpredictable Giants across the bridge who had a fiery start and a nine-game lead in May only to lose two-time world champion aces Matt Cain from the starting five (still unknown injury) and Tim Lincecum (still undiagnosed velocity problems) but somehow picked up where Oakland left off and went not with the big trades but with the white-flag youth movement: Hunter Strickland, Chris Hesten, Erik Cordier and even skipper’s son Brett Bochy have all contributed on the mound. Back-up backstop Andrew Susac has been clutch off the bench and in spelling Buster Posey and infielders Joe Panik and Matt Duffy have been key contributors plugging the middle whilst performing at the plate. The suddenly youth-infused G-men didn’t have enough in the tank to catch the boys in blue with the quarter-billion-dollar payroll and the world’s greatest stadium, but they do have a good chance of beating the Pirates in the wildcard sudden-death scenario and finding themselves the object of Joe Buck’s scorn again.

In Southern California, it’s a battle of swollen payrolls and depleting expectations. The Halos, who had all but given up on The Last Investment Albert Pujols till he decided to come out of the orange groves and hit a respectable .273 with 28 bombs and 104 RBIS (and he’s not done yet). Mike Trout is baseball’s lone superstar right now and the singing cowboy’s starting rotation featuring innings eaters Jared Weaver (18-8, 3.52 ERA), CJ Wilson (13-10, 4.61 ERA) and Matt Shoemaker (16/4, 3.04 ERA) suddenly looks like baseball’s best even without the services of Garrett Richards (13-4, 2.61 ERA). The hedge fund-backed Dodgers’ have the best pitcher in baseball in Clayton Kershaw. The once-in-a-generation starter-next-door has mastery of three pitches usually thrown in a way three different pitchers might; fastball, 90-plus, a makes-you-swing-from-the-heels slider in the high-80s and an elevator curve in the mid-70s. It’s like facing vintage Barry Zito, Pedro Martinez and Greg Maddox—in one at-bat. Kershaw recently notched his 20th win, has an ERA under 1.80 and tosses 100-pitch complete game shutouts like Drysdale the get away afternoon after a Saturday night bender. Kershaw alone almost makes one forget that any player who came up under Castro thinks hitting the cut-off man is a Fredo Corleone reference.

You got your Tigs Kyle, but the prospect of not only an all West Coast World series, but LCSs makes me giggle. I know Fox shares Erin Andrews’ resting bitchface scowl when it comes to the knowledge that KC, not NY will be in the playoffs and Mr. Jeter’s farewell bonanza is but a week away from coming to a cleaned-out-locker and teary press conference halt. All that historic footage from the pre-device ’90s shelved for roll out at Cooperstown in 2020. And what the fuck will Ken “He shoulda been-a dentist” Rosenthal talk about as Buck cuts Harold Reynolds off on the cutaways with no DJ?

With that, I’d like to be a sort of World Series wager Sommelier. First off, like a fine wine, many teams age into BETTER odds of winning Bud Selig’s final Commissioner’s Trophy as the season matures. But like your great aunt’s Bradford Exchange plate collection, not all teams go up in value. At the start of the season the last-place Red Sox were 12/1 (ditto Rays). The aforementioned Yankees, who are now 300/1 to take a Champagne bath, started out at 14/1. The Orioles who started the season at 35/1 are now 13/2—not bad for a runaway division champ. And your Motor City hardballers are a solid 6/1. For my money though, I’m liking either the A’s or the Giants at 12/1 to bring the hardware back to the Biggedy. After all, Giants fans, it is an even-numbered year.

Kyle, I know you’re headed out the door to see nature’s splendor with the man who pulled you out of oblivion and plopped you on this big blue-infused chunk of spinning granite, but I KNOW you’re laying down your World Series picks this week… so, (Pacino voice) what’dya got?!

Kyle: AJ, I’ve never been more happy to talk baseball during betting season, a sport I usually avoid at the book like the plague. It will also grease the wheels of conversation with the old man while we’re waiting for his knees to stabilize after I drag him up a few thousand feet above his normal playing altitude.

I, too, think the road to the World Series is definitely coming through California. Too many hardball-related planets are aligning with the Golden State. Dave Stewart is LaRussa’s new lapdog in Arizona. Scully is back again next year! I found out, just this week, that they still have an MLB team in San Diego.

As a Tigers fan, I hate to say it, but the Los Angeles Angels of Disneyland at 9/2 to win the series is the best bet at the book. Jeff Weaver is a horse, Matt Shoemaker has walked one guy for every 9 he’s struck out since the break and Wade Leblanc hasn’t given up a run in his last two starts headed into the postseason. Everybody has been getting on in front of Albert Pujols and he’s been driving all of them in—he’s got roughly an RBI per game over the last month, while Mike Trout continues to ape Barry Bonds with his slugging prowess. Gordon Beckham and Howie Kendrick have gotten on-base as often as anyone in the league over the last month. There’s just no way I see someone getting around this time save some massive power outage from Pujols and Trout.

In the NL—and I know this won’t be popular with much of our readership—I like the Dodgers. I don’t love them at 9/5, but in the “who’s going to win this thing” sense, I think we’re geared up for a freeway series. Which, wow, Randy Newman is going to RAKE royalties from FOX. It’ll make Erin’s Dancing with the Stars schedule manageable—I won’t have to put up with her whiny-ass Instagram posts from a private jet about #grinding from coast to coast.

We’ll get some hoity-toity reminders from the New Yorker about all the poor-ass people who got bulldozed out of Chavez Ravine 60-plus years ago to make way for one of the top-five stadiums in baseball. It’ll be gross and engrossing, all at once.

The Dodgers’ Matt Kemp, Justin Turner, Carl Crawford and Scott Van Slyke have been hitting the living shit out the ball over the last month—all four are in the top-15 of OPS over that stretch. Even with Puig’s second-half power outage, I don’t see how anyone else keeps up with the boys in blue. Selig passes out his last trophy south of the Grapevine.

AJ: Gotta agree it may be Los Doyers’ year and hey that Randy Newman song was supposed to be ironic; like how big a shithole-where-small-town-dreams-go-to-die-with-a-gooey-tarpit-center LA is. It makes me laugh every time the Dodgers notch a W and it bounces off the Hollywood sign and into the night. I love it! I love it! I love it!

Oh, yeah, the Huskies are better than David Shaw’s listless and unproven farm squad. Take the dawgs and the 6 points against the Cardinal (at home!) for a share of the Pac-12 North lead.

The PnP Recap:

Last week:
AJ: 3-3
Kyle: 1-2

Overall:
AJ: 8-12
Kyle: 1-7

This week:
AJ:
• Washington +6 vs. Stanford
• SF Giants (or Oakland A’s) at 12/1 to win the World Series

Kyle:
• Oregon State +12.5 @ USC
• LA Dodgers (9/5) or LA Angels (9/2) to win the World Series

A salute to Scully

I wasn’t yet the ghost of cigarette smoke curling toward the ceiling in my granddad’s eye when Sinatra played the Sands in ’66. When Satchmo took over New York Town Hall May 17, 1947, my mother was in the womb. My folks hadn’t yet met when Elvis stalked the stage during his caped comeback of ’68. And when Judy Garland shouted the rooftop off Carnegie Hall on April 23, 1961, my father was just entering puberty and probably had the same pitch as pill-popping Dorothy.

You could say I missed out on all the great performances of the 20th Century, and you would be right. You would be right that there is nothing to match those pipes in our contemporary voice vernacular as well.

You would be right, that is, until 3:40 p.m. Friday, April 4, 2014.

It is then I will tune the dial and hear, broadcast live, one of the golden greats of the 20th …and 21st centur(ies), give the following salutation to set the stage for the first game of his 65th season in the broadcast booth:

“It’s time for Dodger baseball. Hi, everybody, and a very pleasant good day to you, wherever you may be.”

This rhapsody in Dodger Blue. This mortal whose tone and cadence and emotive prose sends the giants of his craft into the shadows of repose. One man. One voice.

One Vin Scully.

It is difficult to speak on Scully without having to reach into the bag of superlatives and dust off every single last one, send it to the dry cleaners like one of his signature Century 21 branch manager jackets and appropriately clashing pocket squares, and try them on new again.

So I won’t.

Some, even those who call themselves contemporaries, dare make the mistake of getting nostalgic when the spare Scully starts his laconic loll. There’s an intimation of a better time coming through his mic more in the words unsaid than those spoken.

Indeed, the America of 1950, Scully’s first year announcing for the Trolley Dodgers of Brooklyn, is less vague than in memory — and very real if only for him. And maybe that is the only thing that makes it hard for us to hear. The fact that we were not there. It is a secret only he knows and dares not share. So we listen with the hope he might.

The good and the bad. The things he does not speak and, more importantly, those he does intone. And that is, it was never a perfect time because it has never been a perfect time. And he does not play it as such. The consummate straight man. The one who is honest enough to tell you he is bluffing with a bad hand. Yet he is good enough you don’t believe him.

His no-frills bottomless reservoir of talent obscures a part of our country’s fabric that we have somehow managed not only to forget, but un-stitch, revise and re-sew. Our yearning for that precious moment is the same one he brings to every play call. It is the reality of now and now is really that we just the want to be better ourselves.

This very human realization, though times have, has never changed.

It is no wonder one voice stirs the desire to take part in all that is right. It is only right to want be more in the face of a natural wonder — the only thing that can happen when history is made 81 home games a year before you by a voice beyond you. A single broadcaster has not dominated but defined the airwaves for more than a quarter of his nation’s history. Scully has not only become synonymous with the sport, but the events of the world that changed around him as he remained a constant.

And, whether intentional or not, he has made everyone look all the sillier for it.

No, there is no @vinscully on Twitter. Instagram to him is a broken camera in a box of the storage area in his Pacific Palisades garage. Midcentury Modern isn’t a kitschy catchphrase or commodity of the clever, it is the LA he saw awaken before his eyes.

He watched the cranes creak and grumble and the stanchions and light towers and palms rise — a stadium tucked in a ravine coined after a then-forgotten Angeleno councilman from the century prior. His neck cricked as he saw the cement trucks pour concrete in serpentine swirls through the wind-rushed hills and riveted valleys as a city rose from low tide. He rubbed his eyes one memorable morning and saw a miracle — the white sand-frosted endless horizon of the West.

Once each strikeout is dealt and each home run measured, the sun sets for Scully and for Scully only. His California, the one he imagined then built with words, slumbers and wakes again for the promise of a sunny day matinee.

He is transcendent if not relevant, if not revelatory. He was born in the Bronx but bought a stake in the Golden State and that is where he will stay, through his last season and beyond. He wasn’t bi-coastal or any kind of bi- really. Like his contemporary Carson, he did not take much stock in the market and real estate was a place you lived not an investment you made. You worked for your dollar but knew you had one over on the working man anyway. You gave him a smile and a wink and in return, you won him over again, every day.

Retirement was never the goal, it was the death sentence.

And so, at 86, Vin Scully keeps working. He can recall with clarity the first Dodger title of 1955 Brooklyn and then another in 1959 and yet again in 1963. But he doesn’t bite when the next generation of journalists, now called bloggers, ask him to play it back for them in sepia tone. The color on his set has never had to be adjusted. Life is how he calls it. Straight-forward in the majority, boredom for long stretches and fleeting in a moment of beauty.

The dark alley of memory lane is a white wash, a lazy man’s shell game. Chase away the gilded post-war era. The way men dressed and the way women blushed. The way children screamed and the way America didn’t have as many scratches and dings. To Scully, that is a filigree of someone else’s imagination one block down in Hollywood. It is just a show you see on AMC.

He was there. He lived it. Sure it was another time and another place. But in it he sees something else. Something #nofilter can replicate. He sees the truth. And the truth is he is here now, and we are here with him. And that is what counts.

Humility comes naturally to those like Vin Scully. And, to qualify, there is only one Vin Scully and humility doesn’t come naturally to the rest of us. And that is why we marvel.

When approached this off-season by an LA Times beat writer who gingerly gestured whether Scully would be pleased if the arterial avenue to Chavez were named in his honor, the play caller brushed aside the query in the classiest of ways. Instead of saying, “Well, I’m not done yet. Let’s talk frontage roads when I reside beneath one,” he diverted the attention to legendary Dodger owner and his first boss, Walter O’Malley.

O’Malley was the man with the vision. The man who saw Los Angeles as not only a vacationer’s respite but a permanent home on the Pacific. O’Malley was not the Boston parking lot owner and carpetbagger McCourt who sucked the team dry as his personal ATM to help pay for $50 million in legal fees to divorce attorneys. O’Malley was not the Chicago-based hedge fund which parades out Magic Johnson and giant TV contracts to punish the fan by putting the team in the billion-dollar super-earning stratosphere. O’Malley was rows of families and dollar beers and spacious seats and Farmer John Jumbo Beef Franks and a chance to bring a little bit of Brooklyn Swagger to the sleepy and sweeping sea.

Or in Scully’s words: “(O’Malley’s) the one who came out on a gamble, who played in the Coliseum with that (left-field) screen to the scorn of Eastern writers. (He’s the one) who built Dodger Stadium. He really deserves it. Just think of all the city and tax dollars, all the jobs.”

No, it is not the place of a man, even a lion who will turn 90 before his team’s ace is halfway through his current contract, to criticize. But he can still jab. It is his job. It is his right (and his left) that he has earned.

From Koufax to Kershaw, Lasorda to Little, Hodges to Hershiser and Podres to Puig — Scully has called them all with candor, composure, calm and the wonder of that same 22-year-old boy who first set foot in the Ebbets press box and started to do the play-by-play as he was born to.

Calling the game he’s seen stay constant like a stream of his own lyricism. A game he’s seen play over the course of one great war and a few not-so-good ones …insurrections, assassinations, allegations, consternations and conflagrations, plus an earthquake and a riot or two.

Economic build-ups to political melt-downs. Shady back-office dealings on skid row to revitalized downtowns. Summers spent in the abyss of dismal sub-.500 ball and every single voice-raised-just-an-octave home run call; in all of this, he has remained the rarest of all rare commodities, in baseball — and in life. He embodies the one trait we have lost as a collective.

Vin Scully is sincere.

Now let’s all tune in and listen to what that sounds like, and maybe apply a little of it to our own life. #shallwe?