Tale of Two Baseball Cities

People in southern California have known for the last 50 years that there are some serious differences between the two baseball teams in the southland. In the last 5 years, the stark contrast has been blurred by thousands of fans jumping on the bandwagon and embracing a team that has 20 years of history (not all of it good). As people are changing allegiances faster than a politician on national TV, I figured it would be a good time to remind everyone of the differences between these two franchises.

Basically, it comes down to a team with a storied tradition and a team without. I remember growing up with the Dodgers, going to games with my Dad and taking days off of school to watch Jack Clark rip my heart out in the 1985 NLCS (to this day, even an 8 year old knew that Tom Niedenfuer should have been pulled). The only 1980’s Angel moment that I can remember is the California Angels blowing the ALCS to Dave Henderson and the Red Sox. Ok, what does that say when Boston is beating you in the middle of the 86 years of futility?

But it’s not so much the teams as the culture surrounding the two organizations that highlights the diversity. The Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, formerly the Anaheim Angels, formerly formerly the California Angels, can’t even decide on their official club name. I think that is pretty telling. There was a 10 year stretch that they changed their team colors 3 times. Not uniforms, but actual official colors. All the while, I’ve been kickin’ it in my Dodger Blue watching the Los Angeles Dodgers. There haven’t been any marketing ploys to screw with either of those.

It almost seems like their history is manufactured. The play-toy of the Singing Cowboy, the Angels are the TGIBaseball. The stadium is sterile when attending a game—unless the Red Sox, Yankees and their fans take over Angel Stadium. Sometimes it feels like a plastic team in a plastic town (Orange County is not Los Angeles, no matter how badly Artie Moreno wishes it was).

Every team has their hard-core base of fans. I’m not talking about the season ticket holders for the teams; I’m talking about their casual fans. I’m talking about the Angel fan who doesn’t know what time his playoff game starts, so he asks a Dodger fan. I’m talking about the fan that goes to the game wearing their polo shirt because he got free corporate seats. I’m talking about the couple that is sitting behind home plate, drinking their Cakebread Chardonnay and eating their fruit plate. That’s the average fan that I think of when I think of the Angels. It’s the fan I see when I go to the game, it’s the fan I see on the street, and it’s the fan I see at work.

By and large, the Dodger fan base is just a little more emotional about the games. When another team’s fans try to take over Dodger Stadium, the L.A. crowd makes sure they know which team is the HOME team. When the Blue Crew wins, everyone is singing “I Love LA,” and when they lose, it ruins people’s night. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium wondering, “What the hell happened and why do we suck?” It doesn’t matter if they’re in 1st place or last place, every game matters. There’s a passion that you can’t fake—either you have it or you don’t. Dodger fans are wondering if management should bring up that lefty from AAA. Angel fans are wondering if they can get to the Yardhouse before it closes.

I feel like my childhood had Vin Scully doing the play by play. When I listen to a game now, I’m brought back to the innocence of my youth where just watching a game with my Dad was all that mattered. Vin created an emotional attachment with a generation of fans in Brooklyn, then another couple of generations of fans in L.A. (we even call him by his first name.) He makes it feel like the Dodgers are our team. There’s no need to be fake or pretentious when we go to a game—that is our home with our family. Steve Physioc doesn’t evoke the same type of emotion.

When you’re at a game at Dodger Stadium, there’s an indescribable feeling that makes the experience just feel more authentic. Maybe it’s because Chavez Ravine is missing the geysers and Thunder Mountain in center field. Maybe it’s because fans actually use their hands and voices to make noise instead of artificial noise-makers that are passed out as you pass through the turnstiles. Regardless, there are a lot less gimmicks to get the crowd into the game. The play on the field with a little transistor radio and a Dodger Dog is enough. Rally Monkeys just don’t seem to fit into that kind of environment.

Even look at the rivalries for an objective comparison and its evident. A’s and Angel fans can co-exist for years without knowing it. Dodger and Giant fans have too much history to be civil 100% of the time. Hell, even A’s fans wish they could have beaten the Dodgers in 1988. These are teams that evoke emotions—something the Angels just don’t seem to do. The Los Angeles Dodgers are mentioned with the Cardinals, Yankees, Red Sox, and Giants as classic baseball teams. The Angels? They’re more comparable to the Rangers or Diamondbacks. Last time I checked, no one is rushing home to watch that Texas vs. Arizona game. In television speak, they just don’t “move the meter.”

I’m sure Angel fans are going to be quick to point out their 6 years of storied tradition while the Dodgers have been an average team in the NL West. Just remember, this year is supposed to be the best year the Angels have ever had. They’ve had 100 wins, a big name free agent signing and a record setting closer. But as Dodger fans know all too well, you have to win October or it doesn’t matter. Hey, if the Angels don’t get past the Red Sox tonight, at least the fans will be able to ease their pain with “Angels in the Outfield.”