The World Series is over and the boys in blue are the champions. The Los Angeles Dodgers quickly dispatched the New York Yankees by winning four of the five first games in the seven-game playoff series.
The two teams had met in the World Series 11 times, and it took 43 years for this long-awaited rematch of the Yankees and the Dodgers.
My loyalty to the Dodgers grew at a time when the two teams drove across town to play. The then Brooklyn Dodgers were repeatedly topped by New York, until a 1955 team led by Jackie Robinson finally turned the tide.
Back then there was no TV, so Dad and I listened to the games on a bulky Transoceanic Shortwave radio as the static-filled signal ebbed in and out on the Armed Forces Broadcast Network. It was our first introduction to play-by-play announcer Vin Scully, who with his incredible voice, style, and personality went on to be the greatest announcer ever.
It is the American way to root for the underdog, and at age 11, the likes of Pee Wee Reese, Gil Hodges, Roy Campanella, Duke Snider, and Johnny Podres became my heroes.
We finally made it to Dodger Stadium for the first time in 1980 as Sue and I drove all the way from Seattle to Disneyland with daughters Heidi and Gretchen, ages 6 and 4, with a side trip to Chavez Ravine.
Stepping through the turnstiles and walking the concourses that opened up to the bluest skies and greenest grass we had ever seen was one of those moments never forgotten, and a lifetime love of the Dodgers was insured.
The “Farmer-John” Dodger dogs were as good as advertised, and fans all around us listened on transistor radios to that same Vin Scully we had heard 2,200 miles away in Cordova.
We were back again in 1982, to meet with the Segermans, friends from Cordova via Arizona. Ray and I were doing carpentry work here for the Steens, and he was quite an athlete. In fact, he had a college buddy that knew Ron Cey, the All Star third baseman for LA. He showed up at the game with a Ron Cey batting practice bat, and said “Let’s go get Cey to autograph it for you.”
Security was quite different back then, and after riding several elevators we were right outside the Dodger locker room door. A surprised security guard was standing there, and politely asked what we were doing. Ray showed him the bat, and explained Ron Cey had agreed sign it. The guard told us to stay put and he would check on it.
As we stood there, Dodgers Steve Garvey and Fernando Valenzuela walked by – baseball Gods in those incredible home white uniforms with blue script letters and red numbers.
The security guard returned with a slight grin.
“Sorry guys. Mr. Cey remembers saying he would sign the bat, but he’s not doing any of that today.”
And in a whisper, he added, “Mr. Cey is in a slump and is not starting today.”
I still have the bat up in our attic.
And, as a result of no Ron Cey autograph, I settled on a small Fernando statue, now also stored in our attic.
I bring it down when I know the Dodgers need a little extra mojo. It made its way all the way to Cordova, only to accidentally be broken when our daughters were playing in the living room.
This occurred while I was at the duck cabin for the weekend, and my wife, bless her heart, actually glued the head back on. I didn’t even notice until the kids fessed up.
I told them it didn’t matter. Fernando, with his amazing screwball, would strike ‘em out anyhow.
Finally, to make absolutely certain my Dodgers would beat the Yankees in this year’s World Series I broke out a secret weapon. Sue is a collector, and over the years she has gathered little samples of sand from all the places we or her friends have visited. She has more than 50 labeled jars of sand stored on a shelf.
One of them says “Dodger Dirt, Opening Day, 2008.”
It turns out 2008 was the 50th anniversary of the Dodgers playing in LA after their move from Brooklyn. Special ceremonies – including honoring many living legends and wearing uniforms of their era – was going to be part of the ceremonies.
It was something Sue and I just had to see.
We arrived at the stadium so early they were still letting kids shag batting practice fly balls in the outfield. I peeked in a gate, and thanks to my wife’s explanation that we had come all the way from Alaska just for this game, they let us in. We were standing on the center field warning track, and I was surprised how coarse the dirt was. Redish in hue, it almost looked like volcanic pumice.
Then came one of the flashes of brilliance or stupidity, depending on how turns out.
Me: “Let’s get some of this dirt for your sand collection.”
Sue: “Oh no you don’t. If you get caught they might throw us out. This could be really embarrassing.”
Me: “Do you have a little plastic bag in your purse? I’ll pretend I’m tying my shoe lace while the guards are looking the other way, and just scoop up a little bit.”
Which I did.
Sixteen years later, with the Fernando statue, Dodger dirt, and a baseball autographed by Fernando standing beside our TV, we added a candle burning in tribute to Valenzuela.
Fernando, you see, passed away at age 63 on Oct. 22, 2024. The World series started eight days later. I’m sure he and famous LA manager Tom LaSorda were watching from Dodger Heaven.
And, the mojo worked.
