Vin Scully Hully Gully

Vin Scully and Dad

April 11th, 2016

Batten down the hatches!!! Could the series loss to the Giants be a microcosm of the entire season? Can Blue Crew fans suspect shaky pitching followed by poor management decisions? Yes.

Five first-inning Dodger runs couldn’t help Scott Kazmir as he surrendered six in four innings worth of work. Louis Coleman walked two and gave up a run in the fifth inning. J.P. Howell pitched like un burro borracho as he coughed up two runs (54.00 ERA) before they yanked him for Yimi Garcia. Blanton pitched two scoreless frames, but Dodger bats were congelado through the last four innings.

Enough about morose, mundane, April fiddle-faddle. It’s Vin Scully Day.

Elysian Park Ave. (The main road off of Sunset Blvd that runs into Dodger Stadium) will be renamed Vin Scully Avenue today in a dedication ceremony at 11AM. In this tumultuous political climate, we have to wonder how many folks would punch the button on Scully right now for Prez. One of the things that fascinates us about Vin is that we really don’t know much about him at all. In this reality TV infested, social media-driven world that we live in, few celebrities have skeletons in the closet that we don’t know about.

Are we saying that Vin has skeletons? Gosh, no. However, we get the feeling that we could plow through Vin’s autobiography and still not know much about the man. Oh sure, we could read everything about his fascinating career, but we still wouldn’t really know him at all. It’s through a man’s flaws, his mistakes that we get to see the whole picture. Vin is a Saturday Evening Post cover. He’s Orville Redenbacher siting on a porch munching popcorn and drinking Country Time Lemonade. He listens to mid-century musicals on the way to the Dodger Stadium. We all know an image.

Does that mean we want to see Scully tanked on bourbon and caught in the middle of a racist tirade? No. We need the image. It reminds us of an era where one might not want to know everything about a famous person. Remember a guy named Mel Gibson that we all used to love? Michael Richards? Bill Cosby?

Again, we’re not trying to say that Scully has evil skeletons in his closet. The bottom line is: we don’t know him, but that’s okay. We’ll take the image, the voice. Ignorance can be bliss, baby. Because the man that we do “know” is simply one of the best human beings that ever set foot on the planet Earth.

So, if you live in the Los Angeles area, and by some chance you happen to have the day off, head on over to Dodger Stadium and pay tribute to the greatest baseball announcer that ever lived. We’ll be there, front and center.

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