My Subconscious Does Not Want Me to Go to a Baseball Game

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Lindy West hates baseball. But she's going to try to and become a fan, and she'll be documenting that process here in a semi-regular column called "I Love Balls." Hopefully she'll learn to love America's pastime like a best-case-scenario arranged marriage.


Well, I'm a failure already. I had one basebally thing to do this week—one thing!—for which I shelled out over one hundred American cash-bucks, and that thing was to go watch the Dodgers home opener against the Pittsburgh Pirates at Dodger Stadium. I was excited! I was going to eat a hot dog! It was going to be gross! There would be pirates there! I was going to affect a comical boredness for the purposes of this column! Then I just FORGOT TO GO. Or, more accurately, I thought it was on Wednesday but it was actually on Tuesday. Clearly I am a bumbling simpleton who cannot even remember to pay attention to sports for one week when it's literally my job. This might be harder than I thought.

Apparently it was a great game, too—the pitcher had the flu but he totally rallied like a champ and struck out hella men! Also, another man hit a home run in the 8th inning on his birthday! It was his 30th birthday, which is the same age as me, so, kinship. One thing I like about baseball players is how they can be kind of old. That makes for rousing underdog stories all over the place. Baseball players also have those meaty, cornfed lady-thighs that are kind of hot in a perverted way, you know? So, that's something. Look forward to more in-depth meat-thigh analysis throughout the season.

Since I douched the baseball game plan, I decided to spend the week reading up on the history of the Dodgers. Turns out, GREAT DECISION, because the Dodgers are hilarious. The Dodgers originated in Brooklyn in 1884, when they were called the "Brooklyn Grays," because it was before colors were invented. They later became known as the "Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers," because they played baseball in a neighborhood where people were constantly being squished by trolleys. In fact, the only requirement for making it on to the Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers at that time was to never have been squished to death by a trolley. Everyone in Brooklyn was either on the baseball team or dead. Dark times.

Other names that the Dodgers have been called:

The Bums
Dem Bums
The Grooms
The Bridegrooms
The Superbas
The Robins
The Canaries
Uncle Robbie and the Daffiness Boys

Other names that the Dodgers haven't been called but it's not too late to change that:

The Corncob Boys
The Nuts
The Homeless People
Dem Homeless People
The Racial Slurs
Doctor Cornelius and the Medicinal Cocaine Lozenges
Hall & Oates


"Uncle Robbie and the Daffiness Boys" (real thing!) refers to an era in which the team was manned entirely by bumbling simpletons (my people!). This historical moment inspired probably the best sentence in all of Wikipedia: "Outfielder Babe Herman was the leader both in hitting and in zaniness." OUTFIELDER BABE HERMAN WAS THE LEADER BOTH IN HITTING AND IN ZANINESS. That sentence is the leader both in bestness and in me being dead because it's so funny. Baseball is slowly creeping into my heart.

Then Jackie Robinson happened, which was great! Good job, Dodgers! Sorry dicks were so mean to you, Jackie Robinson.


Then a bunch of other stuff happened involving boring land disputes, so I skipped ahead to the part when they moved to California.

The Dodgers played their first game in Los Angeles in 1958, and Dodger Stadium was completed in 1962, even though the land was originally intended to be a public housing development for the displaced Mexican-American people who used to live there (before their neighborhood got knocked down to make way for a housing development that never happened). But it's okay, because the nice Mexican-American people got free hot dogs for life! (No, they didn't.)


Then baseball happened for a long time. And then it's now! What's happening right now is that some dickhead named Frank McCourt ran the team into the ground, and then it was bought by Magic Johnson, who got the nickname "Magic" because he is literally a wizard. Alls I'm saying is that I hope the rest of the teams in the National League have been practicing their Defense Against the Dark Arts. Accio World Series trophy, amirite, Dodgers!? …Guys? (Is that a thing? World Series trophy? I know nothing.)

Next week I will make sure to watch some actual baseball. And there'd better be some fucking zaniness.



Forgot to go? I'd be appalled except I'd probably do the same thing. Don't worry there are a million other games. And I'm so curious to see if one can really be converted to liking sports later in life, I've been convinced it's something you have to "grow up" into, preferably through actually playing sports/being decent at them from a young age.