I was a 13-year-old kid in 1958, sitting in the Coliseum on Opening Day for the first ever major league game in LA. I couldn’t believe my luck — my favorite team, the Dodgers, had moved to my hometown. Up till then, my favorite team had been the Hollywood Stars of the Pacific Coast League; I was born at Hollywood Presbyterian, so I guess the Stars were my first hometown team.
I was about 9 when I started reading box scores in the Times and collecting baseball cards. Cards were big in my neighborhood. As the older kids became more interested in girls, they passed along their cards to us so I had a history lesson as well as stats on all the current players. The stats, the math, got to me early. The cards made the box scores come alive. You knew what a guy looked like when you read his stats in the paper.
The majors, though, was something to read about, and maybe catch a TV “Game of the Week” on Saturday morning. The World Series was when we could really get to see some ball on TV — really get to know the two teams over the course of at least four games. I was on the wrong end of my first one. Cleveland was my dad’s hometown so I rooted for the Indians. The following year, 1955, I was an idealistic youth who thought the Dodgers could finally beat the mighty Yankees. Those seven games, along with Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, et al, made a big impression on this left coast youngster. From then on, the Dodgers were my big league team.
In ‘57, I got my first taste of major league ball. On a trip east with my folks, I got to go see the Yankees at the old stadium, the Giants at the Polo Grounds, and a Sunday doubleheader, with the Pirates, at Ebbets Field. I had no idea that summer that the Dodgers and Giants were thinking of moving west — young and oblivious at the time, but I was thrilled to learn that my favorite team was moving to LA.
My family wasn’t what you’d call sports nuts. The Dodgers changed that. More specifically, Vin Scully changed our household. As the first season progressed, I realized that I wasn’t the only one paying attention to the wonderful stories coming from the radio. Vin had worked his magic on not only me, but on my sister and my parents as well. If the Dodgers were playing and we were home, the game was on.
Thanks to Mr. Scully, I learned to love the Dodgers, but also to love the game. Baseball has been a constant in my life, mostly as a fan, but also as a hack softball player, who has played every year since I got out of the Army in ‘68. I lived in the Bay Area for a dozen years back in the ‘70s/’80s — my first encounter with hardcore Giants fans. I became a 49er fan, leaving the Rams in my past, but there was never a thought about leaving the Dodgers.
When I finally moved back to LA in ‘88, they rewarded me with a World Series to remember. For the past 20-plus years, I’ve lived in Hawaii, on the Big Island. When we moved, I thought I’d have to give up my Dodger fixation. For the past five years in LA, I had gotten used to seeing ball games on TV through the magic of cable. Dodger games, once rare on the tube, were now available. So I was like a kid again, that same feeling years back when they came into my life, when I found out that my local cable system carried the Dodger’s channel way out in the middle of the Pacific. Paradise and Vin Scully.
The point of all this — thank you Mr. Scully! You’ve been there as the thread of continuity over the years through lots of different players, managers, general managers and owners. Now I’m trying to come to grips with the fact that after this season ends, we’ll be Vinless. I’ve only had two sports heroes in my seven decades, John Wooden and Vin Scully, both were about their humanity, not their athleticism.
I’ll still bleed Dodger blue, but it won’t be the same without Vinnie.
Donald Gross is a resident of Kailua-Kona