Falling star

Mark is a rabid Dodgers fan, and I am not. His favorite player up until last year was Manny Ramirez; mine was not.

"He's a cheater," I told Mark. "He takes drugs to play better. That's cheating."

And because I didn't watch my words, I had to explain the drugs were actually steroids, not street drugs, but that didn't make them any better. I also explained steroids harm your body just as much as street drugs, and they take away the sporting aspect of baseball.

"You think Hank Aaron took steroids to make him hit farther?" I asked. "What about Babe Ruth? Jackie Robinson? No, they played fairly, using their own strength. They didn't take shortcuts."

Then Ramirez was traded away from the Dodgers, ending our debate. Until last week...

"Your favorite player retired from baseball today," I told Mark, the day the news broke.

"Manny?" he asked. "Why?"

"He had a drug test, and it came back with an 'issue,'" I said.

Mark nodded, knowingly. "Oh," he said. "More asteroids?"

Took me a minute to realize what he meant, then I started giggling.

"Yup, he tested positive for asteroids," I said.

I've heard of baseball stars, but that was the first time I'd ever heard of baseball asteroids.

Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack

Friday was a huge milestone for Mark -- not only did he get to see the Dodgers play, he finally got to see them play at Dodger Stadium. And it was UCLA night, Mark's favorite school. Dodgers and UCLA all in one evening -- Mark was thrilled.

This was a big deal for him, so I left work a little early. I figured with Friday night traffic, driving through downtown Los Angeles, I'd need lots of drive time. Turns out, I allotted too much time -- traffic was almost non-existent!

We were among the first 20 c a r s to arrive at the stadium -- the p a r k i n g lot gates weren't even open yet! After a short wait, they opened, and we had our choice of spots. We found a similar scenario at the stadium -- the gates weren't open there, either.

But soon enough, they opened, and Mark received his spiffy new Dodgers hat, in UCLA colors.

Mark was starving, so our first stop was the concession stand, where I purchased two Dodger dogs, a bag of chips, a bottle of water and a beer for $30. Mark thought that was a bargain, but then again, he's 10, and has no concept of money and its worth, unless of course it's his money.

We found our seats, which was pretty easy, because -- you guessed it -- the stadium was empty.

But we were not deterred. We watched the Pirates batting practice, took photos, watched the ground crew ready the field. We watched various people enter and exit the field, including one super tall guy. I told Mark he must be a basketball player, because he made everyone standing next to him look as small as a child. (Turns out it was Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, a UCLA alum, there to throw out the first pitch.)

Mark dug the game for all of one inning. That was the time the Dibbs man came down our aisle selling little chocolate-covered ice cream nuggets. Mark couldn't focus on anything but that guy. He begged and pleaded until I bought him a pack.

He was munching away, and told me how he was sure he'd be a really good pro baseball player.

"Wouldn't I, Mom?" he asked. "Wouldn't I be a good Dodger?"

"You would," I agreed. "Right up until the Dibbs guy walked by and distracted you." We agreed that he could keep his hyperfocus if the players hit boxes of Dibbs instead of baseballs.

Mark lost his focus (on the game, anyway) again after the second inning. That's when he started swirling his water around in the bottle and screaming, "Twister!" I had to remind him some people actually came for the game, not an imaginary weather report.

He focused a bit for the third inning, but as it closed, he wondered when he was gonna get his second dessert (I ate half of his -- damn those Dibbs! They are addictive.) I reminded him that I was an Angels fan, and if the game was boring him, I was happy to leave. So he pulled out his camera and spent the next two innings snapping pictures and taking videos. He took a picture of the Dodger he was most excited to see -- Manny Ramirez. Who didn't play at all. Apparently, $50 million is not enough to get him out onto the field.

By the fifth inning, we decided to roam a bit. Mark decided he wanted Cracker Jacks, so we bought a bag. I realized halfway into the bag it was a bad choice. The sugar hit Mark immediately and he squirmed uncontrollably in his seat for the next two innings.

By the seventh inning, we were done (we'd been there four hours by then!). We stayed long enough to sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game." Mark root, root, rooted for the Dodgers, and I tried to out-shout him by rooting for the Angels. We cracked ourselves up.

The parking lot was noticeably more full than when we arrived, and we couldn't find our car. Our landmark ("remember that we parked behind the scoreboard") proved too vague, so we rambled a bit until we found it.

I hadn't even hit the freeway before Mark fell asleep. Maybe it was the sugar crash, or the walking, or perhaps just all the excitement from our big day. Either way, he fell asleep with a smile on his face, a new UCLA Dodgers hat on his head, and sticky, caramel-coated fingers. He was one happy boy.

Take me out to the ball...park

Mark was assigned a new school project last week -- create a poster board of a California landmark. Did he choose something as famous as the Golden Gate Bridge? Perhaps something as well-loved as the world-famous San Diego Zoo? Or maybe even something as stereotypical California as the beach or the Hollywood sign?

No, my child chose his own personal Mecca -- Dodger Stadium.

He's been obsessed with the Dodgers since the day I met him. He's seen them a couple times during the Freeways series, but only at Angel Stadium. We've gotten tickets twice to games at Dodger Stadium, but once he got in trouble, and once he got sick. So he's been pining to see a game there for as long as I can remember. (And though we've been to Angel Stadium loads of times, he says that doesn't count.)

He knows I'm a big believer in learning by doing whenever we can (instead of researching on the Internet). So choosing Dodger Stadium was even more genius, because the little rat knew I'd take him there. He figured he'd finally see the Dodgers in Dodgertown, all in the name of education.

What he didn't count on was the fact that baseball season hasn't started yet. So yes, I agreed to take him to the Cesar Chavez Ravine, but broke it to him gently that his Dodgers were at spring training in Phoenix. But I could take him on a stadium tour if he still wanted to go.

And boy, did he! The only thing that made it better was when the Black Eyed Peas, his favorite band, came on the radio singing his favorite song, just as we drove into the parking lot.



The tour was pretty cool. We started on the top deck, and learned all sorts of cool facts about the stadium -- like how the seat colors were supposed to represent the beach (the yellow seats are dry sand, the orange-y seats are wet sand, and the blue seats are the ocean).

Then it was down a few floors to the Vin Scully press box. Mark raced around photographing the newspaper names on the desks. I watched in awe as the guide unveiled the organ used for every round of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." I turned to share my joy with Mark, only to see him disappear behind the desks at the other end of the press box. He picked that moment to play hide and seek.







After a stern reminder that we were here for him, we carried on. We got to go through the restaurant and see the championship bats. We saw tons of memorabilia, the championship trophies, too, and even some Olympic medals. It was all pretty cool.

Next stop was the best -- into the players clubhouse! We snaked through the halls, past the umpires lounge, and out onto the field. They wouldn't let us on the grass, but we were allowed into the dugout and onto the dirt.

Mark made a beeline for the dugout -- he wanted to drink from the same water fountain the pros drink from.



He sat on the bench for a bit, then remarked he didn't feel quite comfortable there.

"Why not?" I asked.

"You know," he said, eyeing the floor. "Because they spit all over the floor."

"They do," I agreed. But they aren't here now."




We took some other cool photo ops. Here's Mark trying to sneak into the player's locker room.



And calling up to the head office for a relief pitcher.




Sliding (not so gracefully) into the dirt. He vowed he would never wash the sacred dirt from his clothes.






And of course, even the coolest things in the world get boring after a while.




All in all, we spent a good couple hours in the ballpark. It was so interesting, I almost emerged a Dodger fan as well. (Mark had to remind me of my allegiance. Go Angels!!)

Mark didn't have quite as much fun putting together his poster board for class, but he finished it yesterday and was proud of it. I'm still not convinced Dodger Stadium is a California landmark, but hey, if it makes my son interested in learning, I'm all for it.

But not as much as I'm for the Angels. ;-)