ARLINGTON, Texas — Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough for Dodgers fans to wonder if this day might never come. And it nearly didn’t.
From Oct. 20, 1988, when Orel Hershiser threw the last pitch of the Dodgers’ five-game World Series victory over the Oakland A’s until Tuesday night, when Julio Urias did the same against the Tampa Bay Rays – a franchise that didn’t even exist in 1988 – the Dodgers and their fans went into the winter year after year feeling disappointed – or cheated.
But 2020 was different – in so many, many ways.
“This year is our year,” Dodgers manager Dave Roberts said to the mostly-empty stands at Globe Life Field after accepting the National League Championship Trophy a week and a half ago.
“This is our year.”
He was right. The Dodgers made it theirs Tuesday night with a 3-1 victory in Game 6, the best team in baseball at every step of the challenges 2020 presented.
“This is our year,” Roberts repeated upon accepting the World Series trophy, the 11,000 or so fans in attendance giving voice to so many more. “We said it.”
But how many times had “this is our year” been said over the previous 32 years – bragging or begging, in the pavilions at Dodger Stadium or family barbecues around the Southland?
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough for 18 different franchises to celebrate a fresh championship while the Dodgers’ ’88 win grew stale. Two franchises that didn’t even exist in 1988 (the Florida/Miami Marlins and Arizona Diamondbacks) won championships. Two curses ended (the Boston Red Sox in 2004, the Chicago Cubs in 2016, both after stepping over the Dodgers in the playoffs). Even worse for Dodger fans, the San Francisco Giants – their hated rivals – celebrated three championships in a five-year span. Even the Angels, the little brother and former tenant, won a title under the leadership of a once-favored Dodger son, Mike Scioscia.
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough for the franchise to change hands three times, going from O’Malley family ownership to Fox corporate ownership into the hands of a parking lot owner with strange ideas about other people’s money and finally to the Guggenheim Group, which seems to have all the money.
The franchise had grown stale in the ’90s as baseball’s economic realities made family ownership increasingly difficult. The corporate overlords from Fox didn’t stick around for long – but long enough to alienate a generation of fans when they ended a financial standoff with slugging catcher Mike Piazza by trading the future Hall of Famer for a pocketful of beans that had no magic in them.
Then along came Frank McCourt and an eight-year soap opera. Houses were collected for their swimming pools. A future football exec (Paul DePodesta) was hired and fired less than two years later. A Russian physicist named Vladimir Shpunt with healing powers that worked through your TV was paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to infuse “V energy” into the team.
It all ended in bankruptcy, divorce (the costliest in California history by at least one reckoning) and fan boycotts. But the McCourts came out smelling fine after selling the team to the Guggenheim Group for a then-record $2.1 billion. Frank owns the L.A. Marathon and a French soccer team now. Jamie badly miscalculated her share of the Dodger sale but is the U.S. Ambassador to France and Monaco now. One son, Drew, is part of the plan to put a gondola downtown to transport fans to Dodger Stadium.
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough for so many players to come and go. From Ashley (Billy) to Zeile (Todd), E.D. (Eric Davis) to E.K. (Eric Karros), Grudzielanek (Mark) to Mientkiewicz (Doug) to Federowicz (Tim), Howell (Jay) to Howell (J.P.), Brown (Kevin) to Green (Shawn) to White (Devon), Candelaria (John) to Candiotti (Tom), Ely (John) to Lilly (Ted), Clark (Dave) to Kent (Jeff), Mulholland (Terry) to Ventura (Robin).
Hall of Famers started their careers in Dodger blue (Piazza and Pedro Martinez) or stopped by on their final laps before Cooperstown (Eddie Murray, Rickey Henderson, Gary Carter and Greg Maddux).
Since Hershiser struck out Oakland’s Tony Phillips for the final out of the 1988 Series, the Dodgers have played 5,014 regular-season games and 113 more in the postseason in pursuit of their next (seventh overall) title. They have spent $3.69 billion in player payroll over 32 seasons.
Thirty-two years is a long time
Long enough for the familiar fist-pumping highlight of Kirk Gibson homering off Dennis Eckersley to become a bit of an irritant to the current Dodgers.
“I got drafted by the Dodgers. I didn’t know a ton of Dodger history at the time,” pitcher Clayton Kershaw said on the eve of the 2017 World Series. “But coming up, it kind of gets ingrained in you, which is a good thing. It’s not a lot of organizations that have the type of history that the Dodgers do.
“It’s been a special thing, and I hope after this week is over, they can talk about 2017 a little more and 1988 a lot less.”
Kershaw got half of his wish. People do talk an awful lot about 2017. An awful lot.
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough to get used to new voices and say goodbye to old ones.
It might have been the most perfectly brilliant moment in a career filled with them.
“High fly ball into right field, she is gone! … In a year that has been so improbable, the impossible has happened.”
Vin Scully was 60 years old that night, completing his 39th season as the Dodgers’ play-by-play announcer. Revered. Iconic. He grew in stature but retired after 67 seasons in 2016 never having called games for another Dodger World Series team.
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough for us all to endure the longest year of our lives.
Confidence that the long wait for a World Series title might finally end was at a 32-year high this spring. The Dodgers took a big swing and connected, trading for Mookie Betts on the eve of spring training. He would be the 21st century Gibson, they hoped, the difference-maker who would take them over the top.
But spring training came to an abrupt halt on a rainy night in Arizona in mid-March. The coronavirus pandemic had invaded the sports world as it would eventually envelop everything. Players were sent home, told to stay healthy, stay ready – but stay away.
“Yeah, it was weird. There were some days that you would go work out and you’re like, man, I don’t even know if we’re gonna have a season this year,” outfielder Cody Bellinger said. “And then you read up on social media and, oh okay. Things are looking good. We’re gonna have a season and then just kind of go back and forth, back and forth.”
The sport shut down for four months. How could anyone think of a World Series to crown a champion when Opening Day was an unknown?
“I was throwing sim games in May and June in Dallas, thinking about, man, are we even going to play a season?” Kershaw said. “Is this going to be a wasted year in everybody’s career and things like that? Is it gonna be a wasted year for the Dodgers with the team that we have?”
MLB returned in July with health and safety protocols, constant testing, empty stadiums and fake crowd noise. There were outbreaks around the league but the Dodgers forged on, staying healthy and focused while winning game after game in front of cardboard cutouts instead of fans.
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough for Southern California’s two favorite franchises to get back in sync.
In 1988, the Lakers and Dodgers were both champions. They are again … after both living in a bubble to do it … and beating Florida-based franchises in their final series just weeks apart.
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough to get rich … and smart. With the hiring of Andrew Friedman following the 2014 season, the Dodgers signaled their desire to pair their financial muscle with a new-age approach to statistical analysis, roster management, in-game strategy and player development.
Friedman, the president of baseball operations, inherited a talented roster, one that had already started a string of eight (and counting) consecutive division titles and been to the NLCS in 2013.
But he made it better. Investment in the farm system produced a steady stream of talent at the major-league level and fodder for mid-season gap-filling trades.
The division titles continued. NL pennants followed in 2017 and 2018, the first since 1988. Betts was acquired – and signed to a 12-year, $365 million contract extension at a time when there was reason to wonder if he’d ever play one game in a Dodger uniform.
The long-awaited championship was closer than it had been in decades.
“It’s just a great team,” Kershaw said. “I think top to bottom Andrew did a great job. He put together a great group of guys. We’ve got, I think, a great clubhouse. Everybody seems to get along pretty well. A lot of guys who can make people laugh, which I think is important. You’ve got a lot of guys who are down to business, which is important. And you got a ton of talent, which is really important.”
Thirty-four days is a long time, too.
That’s how long the Dodgers spent quarantined, the last 24 in their Texas “bubble”, their world limited to a local resort hotel and the Texas Rangers’ brand-new ballpark, Globe Life Field.
“Bubble life is – it’s interesting,” catcher Austin Barnes said.
Unlike the regular season, when players on the road were encouraged to stay in their rooms as much as possible and not mingle with the general public, playoff teams have stayed in a hotel devoted to them (the Dodgers shared that hotel with the San Diego Padres then the Atlanta Braves then the Rays as the postseason progressed).
With no public allowed in, the players could mingle in outdoor spaces. There was a game room for the players and their families – skee ball, ping pong and more at the ready. And there was a Halloween set-up for the “kiddos” – Kershaw’s label for the toddler set.
Family members in the bubble could attend the games at Globe Life Field, seated in private areas down each foul line. Families not in the bubble had to content themselves with being among the limited number of fans in the stands, distanced from the players.
It was a strange arrangement for Dodgers like Kershaw, Max Muncy and Dustin May, who grew up and/or live in the Dallas area with homes just minutes away from the hotel and ballpark that defined the parameters of their life for a month.
“It’s been extremely difficult,” Muncy said during Week Three of life in a bubble.
“You’re so close, yet you’re so far away. This has been home for me for the past 19, 20 years almost. It’s home to me and my wife. It’s where we have our house. Not being able to go and see that, see our friends, see our family – not even allowed to have our pets – it’s just been extremely difficult.
“But we’re really close to the end and hopefully it’s all going to be worth it.”
The end, of course, included a twist. Third baseman Justin Turner, one of the longest-tenured Dodgers, tested positive for COVID-19 and was pulled from Game 6 after seven innings, unable to storm the field with his teammates afterward. MLB commissioner Rob Manfred confirmed the positive test after the game, telling the Fox broadcast: “It’s a bittersweet night for us.”
Thirty-two years is a long time.
Long enough to become the best team in baseball.
A 43-17 regular season (the best record in MLB) was followed by postseason series sweeps of the Milwaukee Brewers and Padres.“We had just been out-talenting everyone the whole entire season,” pitcher Alex Wood summarized. “We really didn’t know what we were made of, who we truly were as a team.”
They found out in the National League Championship Series against the Braves, losing the first two games and falling behind 3-1 in the best-of-seven series before rallying to reach the World Series for a third time in four years.
A relentless offense set a postseason record for two-out runs and Roberts pulled all the right strings – well, enough of them – to beat the Rays in six games.
“We’re bringing the trophy home,” Friedman said following Game 6. “Sorry it took so long. Thank you for your patience. But this trophy is coming home where it belongs.”
Thirty-two years is such a long time.
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