They Are His Team, Even When It Hurts! <i> Ouch . . . Ouch . . . Ouch!</i>

The fan jots the putout in his scorecard and adjusts his cap.

“Dodger fan? Of course I’m a Dodger fan,” says the fan. “You think I wear this hat because it goes good with my eyes? I have to be a Dodger fan. Did you ever try switching teams?”

That’s why so many people get so mad at the Dodgers when they play horsefeathers (continues the fan). You can’t change teams. If you live in Los Angeles, you can’t dump the Dodgers any more than you can stop breathing the smog. I tried switching a few years ago, just for fun, just to prove it can be done.

I went with Cleveland. Why? Why not ? Because I like the little Indian guy on the shirts. I just wanted to change, become a free-agent fan, control my own destiny. So I studied the Indians, read up on their history, memorized their minor league rosters, subscribed to the Plain Dealer.

It didn’t work. Ever try to discuss Cleveland’s bullpen problems with your L.A. mailman? He’ll start avoiding you like you’re a foamy-lipped dog. You can switch phone companies, airlines, brands of beer. You can even switch newspapers. But if you live here, you’re stuck with whatever team they send out of that dugout, pal.

What about the Angels? Anaheim is just south of Cleveland, isn’t it?

I know, a lot of L.A. people claim to be Cub fans or Yankee fans. That’s strictly an affectation, believe me. It’s like moving from Malibu to New York and keeping your surfboard strapped to the roof of your car--a phony symbol of a defunct life. They are people who can’t face reality.

Nope, we’re captives. Myself, I’m not mad at the Dodgers. To me, the Dodgers are those guys on the field. The ones to get mad at are the suits, up there behind the drapes and smoked glass. And how do you get mad at something you can’t see? Has anyone ever actually seen Peter O’Malley? You got a better chance to bump into Howard Hughes in the hot dog line.

Remember how Bill Veeck, when he owned the White Sox, would sit in the stands with the fans? Hey, maybe O’Malley does that. Maybe he puts on a fake beard and a Hawaiian shirt and sits in the bleachers sipping a beer, just to find out what the fans are really like, what they’re thinking and feeling. Right. Maybe I’m him, how do you know? Ask me why I didn’t get Tim Raines. Because I didn’t want to upset our team’s delicate chemistry.

Don’t get me started. I’m just here to enjoy the game. I root for the Dodgers, but mostly I pray for extra innings. The best time at the ballpark is the 12th inning or later. It’s like being in an all-night supermarket at 4 in the morning. All the normal people have gone home to bed.

Personally, I try not to let the team bother me. I get into the game itself. This year I’m studying the cheaters, the ball-nickers and bat-corkers. I love ‘em. Why the fuss? You take all the cheating out of baseball and whatta ya got? Golf.

What’s a little nick on the ball? It ain’t the Hope Diamond. When I played semipro ball, we had a pitcher named Vegamatic Jones. Worked the ball over with a big set of keys he kept on his belt. He saved the trick pitches for what he called “key situations.” One day he was getting lit up, he got so mad he gouged the cover completely off the ball and threw a hunk of yarn up to the plate. Hung a curve. Guy smacked it for a double.

And what’s wrong with a corked bat? Cork is a natural substance. Why shouldn’t the hitters juice up their bats a little, keep pace with the modern scientific advances in fielders’ gloves? Those gloves they use now, Manny Mota could take a nap in one.

Speaking of naps, this is some ballclub, eh? Pooch City. And speaking of dogs, you know how that lady who owns the Reds has a pet dog? If Peter O’Malley sent Fred Claire out to get him a pet dog, Claire would come back with a Mediocre Dane. This roster is starting to look like an expansion list. The Dodgers have picked up several guys I would rate a “10.” That’s how many of their baseball cards you’d have to trade to get one Tim Raines. But you’ll never catch me booing the players, no sir. If a guy’s a .220 career hitter, it’s usually not by choice. Fans need to boo somebody, though. Maybe O’Malley could jog around the bases during the seventh-inning stretch. Or they could trot out a cardboard cutout of O’Malley, or flash his picture on the message board. Take some heat off those poor slobs down on the field.

At least it’s going to be a heck of a race, Dodgers and Padres. Basement or bust. I hope it goes right down to the wire, last day of the season, loser take all. Sure, I’ll be there, rooting for the Dodgers. Praying for extra innings.

Why do I bother? Don’t you understand, buddy? That’s my team out there.