Pottersville in the Ravine

It's been over a week since opening day and the horrific incident in which a Giants fan was beaten half to death in the Dodger Stadium parking lot. Forget about the team and their performance, this is more important and I'm finally chiming in. Ya hear that, Clarence? Whenever a bell rings an angel gets his wings. Except it may just be too late. Mike Scioscia and Mickey Hatcher don their wings in a different Heaven and there may be only one or two cherubim left that can help to restore our beloved home.

Dodger Stadium, imbued for decades with the stuff of wholesome Americana, a happy, secure place with a small town feel, the green and white jewel set amidst a teeming megalopolis - our own little Bedford Falls of baseball - has become Pottersville. George Bailey long ago sold out to the evil Potter. No more Building and Loan, no more security, no longer a place to cherish. It began in 1998 when the venerable Peter O'Malley couldn't get his football stadium and had to sell to Fox. The door was opened for the greedy and the corrupt and, let's face it, Frank McCourt does Potter as well as, if not better than, Lionel Barrymore. Certainly no less subtle. All that's missing is the wheelchair. And so, like George Bailey's living nightmare, Dodger Stadium has given way to the excessive, the violent and the immoral. The friendliness has left the building. There's more drinking. There are more fights in the stands. There are commercials everywhere. Prices are sky high, except for the bleachers where they've been made barely affordable to the less fortunate. Except now the less fortunate are the poor souls who have to sit in those stands with the gangbangers and the drunks. The security? Evidently the stadium is now patrolled by the same Latino gangs that claim territories around the ballpark and in areas throughout the Southland. This is not a racist comment. I'm not making a slur about Latinos. I'm making a statement about gangs. And if anyone thinks for a minute that this Giants fan wasn't beaten up by two "cholo" gangbangers, then they're simply delusional. Instead of discouraging this element from coming to the ballpark, the evil McCourt entices them. He feeds them free-flowing beer in his bleachers and markets his gear to their sensibilities and tastes. He allows them to use his stadium as their turf and even encourages a turf mentality among them by quietly condoning their behavior. This has been a growing problem for years, but McCourt, in the true spirit of Mr. Potter, has turned a blind eye for the sake of the almighty dollar. That dollar that he uses to buy houses and cars for himself rather than put back into the team.

For a minute, Potter almost fools George Bailey into thinking he's not so bad after all. Our Potter brought over Manny Ramirez and we thought it was a gift. Turns out, not so much. "The Devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape" and so did Manny for exactly half a season. McCourt knew what he was getting but it brought him dollars. "Mannywood" became Nick's Bar and the PED's flowed as freely as the beer. "Hey, look, mister. We serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast, and we don't need any characters around to give the joint atmosphere, is that clear?" Sound familiar? Potter doesn't care about Bedford Falls and its citizens and McCourt doesn't care about the Dodgers or their fans. His first comment was his truest comment after the beating on Opening Day: "... let me just say it's tragic," the evil man said, "It's very, very unfair to take what was otherwise a fantastic day — everything from the weather to the result of the game to just the overall experience — and to have a few individuals mar that. It's a terrible thing." Can't you just hear Barrymore delivering that line? And who is the spokesman for this nightmare? None other than McCourt lackey, Josh Rawitch. He's the Smithers to McCourt's Burns. He may just be doing his job but we're all so tired of hearing him spew out the Potter rhetoric and the weak excuses and the terse dismissals to rightly inquiring reporters. If he was smart, he'd leave his position before his reputation is permanently tarnished.

It used to be a Giants fan could wear his team's gear and he'd practically be welcomed with open arms. Not anymore. This is a horrible place run by a horrible man and the only person who can help us is the Commissioner of Baseball, himself, Bud Selig. In order to stop Potter, Selig must not flinch, he must not blink. He must stare him in the face and say, "no." Lawsuit? Let him try it. Every fan in LA will come to Bud's defense. We want some modicum of our unique class and humility back. The class and humility that once made the Dodgers a great organization and what made us an enviable community. We want our Bedford Falls back. And we want our team back. We need an owner like George Bailey, like Peter O'Malley. In the meantime, whenever we believe we may have finally awakened from our nightmare, we all reach into our pockets only to find that Zuzu's petals are not there.