My name is Robert and this is my blog.
I will post about how much the Los Angeles Dodgers drive me up the fucking wall. I'm also a bookworm and a big movie guy, so expect stuff like that too.
When I was eight the Dodgers traded my hero - the great Mike Piazza - to the Marlins in exchange for some brothers that never took us to the playoffs. My dad used to say that trading Piazza was the Dodgers' answer to the famous "Curse of the Bambino" that tortured Red Sox fans for 86 years (until, of course, they won in 2004 and became the most insufferable fucking people in the world).
I figured it was a fitting thing to name my site here. I am the most cynical Dodgers fan I know. The team was my first love and continues to be one of the only thing I've remained completely passionate about for my entire life. You don't need a girlfriend when you've got the L.A. fucking Dodgers around to break your heart every year.
I was in the womb when Kirk Gibson's amazing home run in the 1988 World Series shocked over 50,000 fans (and one idiot in the parking lot) at Chavez Ravine. My mom says I must be a huge fan because she ate so many Dodger Dogs (my folks had season tickets that year) and the passion sort of transferred to me by process of osmosis or something. Regardless, the team hasn't even sniffed the World Series since then. The only National League teams with similar dry spells that long are Pittsburgh, Montreal/Washington, and (of course) the Cubs.
It's not easy loving this team, what with all the shit they put their fans through - terrible trades, idiot owners, this miserable McCourt divorce, Garret Anderson... it's a hard life.
But despite each Jonathan Broxton implosion or 9th inning false hope rally, I keep coming back to the Los Angeles Dodgers.
Even if the Curse of the Piazza keeps us out of the World Series another twenty years, I'll still be here complaining about an underachieving outfielder or a senile manager or how terrible Charley Steiner is behind the microphone.
It's all because I've grown up with this team. The cursive blue lettering on the front of a dirt-covered jersey is familiar to be - it's family. Vin Scully is my 3rd grandfather - the man practically raised me.
Whenever we run into trouble or have to deal with adversity, humans tend to come back to something familiar. It could be the scent of your grandmother's old perfume, or the first ten minutes of Raiders of the Lost Ark. These things comfort us, make us feel safe as we did when we were younger. When we were more innocent. When we felt more safe.
For me, it's the Dodgers. My first and only love.