I'm always amazed at how many people who apparently don't like baseball show up at baseball games. How else can you explain the wave, beach balls, or "DAY-O"? I live In Los Angeles; home of the non-fan fan. We've all heard the stereotypes about LA fans being bandwagoners that only cheer for the winning team....
Well, it's all true. Every bit of it.
It's a well documented fact that in LA, Dodger fans don't file into the stadium until the top of the third. If I miss batting practice I feel late. Nevertheless, Dodger fans wander into the park forty-five minutes late, and usually leave within an hour, depending on which team is winning. If you've never been to Dodger Stadium and witnessed this behavior first hand, you are probably thinking that this sort of thing happens everywhere, and you're right. But what sets LA apart is the sheer quantity of people doing this. I challenge you to go to a Dodger game, and at the bottom of the fifth, if the Dodgers are losing, look out into the crowd the way you'd look at one of those 3D posters that were cool in the mid 90's. You will see mobs of people stand up in unison and file out of the stadium like sheep. It happens every game; you can set your clock to it. In fact, the best way to avoid traffic at Dodger Stadium is to get there on time and leave when the game's over.
Growing up in LA has probably been the greatest contributor to my fierce hatred for the Dodgers. It's not a bad stadium; It's actually a pretty nice stadium... when it's empty. Dodger fans are hands down the worst fans in Major League Baseball.
As a Los Angeles Police Officer, I come across criminals and gangsters everyday. There are few places that make me feel more unsafe that the outfield bleachers at Dodger Stadium.
Every game is like an 18th Street gang reunion for all the homies and their little bambinõs. I would venture to guess that there is more gang activity in the Dodger stadium bleachers than in the entire City of San Fernando. And somehow they call that the family section.
A few weeks ago, while at a Dodger game, I sat in front of your typical Dodger fan. It didn't take me long to figure out that this guy was the prototype for all other Dodger fans to follow. My first and second clues were when he showed up in the third inning spilling his beer down the backs of myself and everyone else I was with. Throughout the next four innings, (he actually stayed longer than usual) I had to sit through this man's inane rambling about absolutely nothing. It started with his spouting of inaccurate statistics of the Dodger's line up, then onto how he felt the team should be managed. After exhausting his ability to recite what he had clearly heard on ESPN, the conversation shifted to another topic he knew nothing about; women.
It's a verifiable fact that Dodger fans boo louder when a 9 year old drops a foul ball than for a home run from the apposing team. This guy was no exception. Even worse, everytime a fly ball was hit, our hero would cheer right until the ball fell into the glove... of the short stop. Apparently, nacho cheese and beer drastically affects one's depth perception.
As much as I hate the Dodgers - and I do, if I could change one thing about the MLB, it would be seating. Tickets for assigned seats should only be good until the game begins. That way, when I'm stuck in the nose-bleeds, I get to automatically upgrade my seats as a reward for punctuality. Once the first pitch is thrown, it should be my right as a loyal fan to relocate to any vacant seat of my choosing while the tardy, non-fans get banished to the upper deck for showing up late.
That's baseball the American way.
Labels: police, pure evil