So, whenever a book about the Dodgers is published, does a fan of another team joke that the readers start reading in the third chapter and finish in the seventh? Maybe. And maybe it’s even funny the first time someone says it. But not the second, or the third, or the three-hundredth.
If you’re taking in a national or out-of-town broadcast from Dodger Stadium, it’s inevitable that the so-called wit of some announcer will find its target in the ritual late arrival and early departure of Dodgers fans. If it’s true fans are like this in Los Angeles, it’s also true they’re like this at major league parks across the country, with nary a person commenting. And this doesn’t even address the ballparks where most of the seats are empty from start to finish.
It may be fair to say, however, that no city is quite like Los Angeles for a laissez-faire attitude toward seeing nine innings of baseball. Part of this is inspired by the geographical spread of Los Angeles, its epic traffic, and the notoriously crowded Dodger Stadium parking lots that are barely mitigated by the area’s patchy public transportation system. Given those elements, it’s no wonder fans are late or fear a homeward struggle.
There are Dodgers fans who will leave at a certain inning by rote, regardless of the hour, how close the game is, or how quickly the game is moving. When Montreal righty Dennis Martinez was pitching the 13th perfect game in major league history at Dodger Stadium in 1991, more than a few folks headed for the exits before the ninth.
But you know what? Not every person in the ballpark that day was a baseball fan. Not everyone who goes to a baseball game lives and dies with the sport. Not everyone has the kind of life that allows one to get to a game on time or stay until the end. So? Isn’t it better that people get a taste of the ballpark, however shortened, than no taste at all?
To interject a personal moment…one time my shift at work ended in the neighborhood of midnight. In my car, I listened to a Dodgers game that had entered extra innings. Instead of heading home, I decided to drive to the ballpark and see if the game was still going by the time I got there. Sure enough, I entered Dodger Stadium in the top of the 12th inning—and left triumphantly after the Dodgers won it in the bottom of the 12th. I saw one inning, and it was one of the most memorable games I have ever attended.
On some level, it’s been decided that giving tardy slips or detention to baseball fans is a way of measuring their dedication, their innate “fanness.” That’s not going to change, but the methodology isn’t fail-safe. The Dodgers have sold more tickets than any franchise in history. Even after accounting for those who don’t see a full game, it’s doubtful there are many other fan bases that have seen more innings of baseball than the one in Los Angeles. And the passion of Dodgers fans, whether they’re at the game or listening to Vinny (the No. 1 reason for not rushing to one’s seat), has always been underrated.
Baseball is supposed to be fun. Baseball is not football or basketball with rigid time constraints. Baseball is a carefree day at the park, a night to unwind. No doubt, there are some of you who want to see nine innings of ball but just can’t. But if you’re pleased with less, then be pleased. Arrive late and leave early, and do it to your hearts’ content. This is not a test.
What Goes Around, Comes Around—And Smacks You
If you don’t like seeing dramatic comebacks at the Dodgers expense, then August 21, 1990, was the night to leave Dodger Stadium early. Los Angeles built an 11–1 lead over Philadelphia, thanks largely to an eight-run fifth inning, and still led 11–3 heading into the ninth.
But the Phillies started stringing some singles and walks (with two errors by Dodger shortstop Jose Offerman tying it all together) that cut into the Dodger lead. Dale Murphy doubled off Tim Crews with the bases loaded to pull the Phillies within reach at 11–8, and John Kruk immediately followed with a pinch-hit three-run homer to tie the game. Two batters later, Jay Howell then gave up a double to Carmelo Martinez that drove in Philadelphia’s ninth run in the ninth, the deathblow in a 12–11 loss for the Dodgers.
Postgame traffic was light, but heavy-hearted.