Spent Friday night in some badass buckets @ Dodger Stadium. My personal ticket broker in L.A., Barry’s Tickets (Blake Griffin! Ron Artest!) hooked it up: 3rd row from the field, less than 50 feet from a deflated-looking Manny Ramirez.
(Stadium for one, Madame?)
While the Cubs embarrassed themselves that night by sleepwalking through a 1-hit, 2-run loss to capellini-armed Randy Wolf and
Jim Belushi Jonathan Broxton, at least the Cubs (or Dodgers, who knows) continue to savor the finest road beef the National League has to offer. (And I’m not talking about Canter’s on the concourse.)
(Mannywood the inspiration for acronym SDASTFU?)
We were seated about three sections over from where Mannywood officially begins, which is why the above scenario was a common refrain throughout the evening.
(Manny has done the impossible: Dodgers are dope with my kind of demo)
Ramirez has singlehandedly turned the Dodgers into cool around town - and last night was yet another example. Young women all around us shrieked every time he twitched into position or blew one out of his left nostril. I’m talking about hundreds, if not thousands of women. (If I ever sit next to Mannywood again, I’ll be plowing a half-pint of Ancient Age pregame.)
Now you might say that the reason this is playing out is L.A.’s inordinate obsession over celebrity. Baloney, if Manny was in Kansas City (my hometown) or anywhere else, exactly the same thing would be happening. Being the best right-handed hitter of our generation whilst going Jamaican Gold, mon, will do that to the ladies.
One more thing about the female dynamic at Dodger Stadium …