I read somewhere in a book years ago that the temperature in heaven is always 75 degrees Fahrenheit. I won't reveal the book in which that information appeared cuz it's kinda embarrassing. Suffice to say that this particular "factoid" is about the only thing I remember from the entire book - and that's probably a good thing.
But I guess it means I got to experience a little slice of heaven today, as I strolled up Vine Street to grab a bite to eat. It was 77 degrees outside, with a light breeze blowing, after a day in which the mercury climbed up to almost 90 degrees. I had on my flip flops and shorts and a light t-shirt and felt content. Had it not been for my desire to get back home with my meal, I would have liked to spend more time outside (note to self: next time go to Waffle and eat outside). It was not so hot that I felt sweaty or uncomfortable, and not too cool to the point where I'd want to switch to pants or a heavier t-shirt.
The other day, my friend Corey commented to me that 75 is the "perfect human temperature," and after today I'm reminded that I agree with her. Sure, I love snow, and I also like hot days where you can sit on the beach all day, but somehow 75 just feels "perfect." Is that wrong of me to like it so d*mn much?
Oh, and for all my non-LA friends who may be wondering, yes I'm officially a weather "wimp." When the mercury dips below 60, I now shiver, like somehow I'm cold. Really Luke? Cold at 60? Maybe. That will probably have to go down as one of those unanswerable questions. What I do know is that the range of temperatures in LA (usually between 55 and 70 in the winter and usually between 60 and 85 in the summer) suits me just fine.
But I do miss thunderstorms.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Why I moved to LA, Part 3: Change
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Dodger fans: The worst fans ever
Last night was gonna be fun: a night out at the Dodgers-Giants game on fireworks Friday, my first time going to a Dodgers game and my first time seeing the Giants in action since they captivated my former hometown and much of the country with their unbelievable run to win the World Series. My office had organized a group to go, and I was super excited about going, and bringing my boyfriend too. I even bought my first-ever fitted baseball cap - a black number with the orange "SF" logo - so I could feel like I was supporting my team.
Then the news came in about an attack the night before in which a Giants fan was beaten in the Dodgers parking lot by two men, resulting in a father of two ending up in the hospital in critical condition all for the sheer "crime" of wearing his team's colors. Remind me where we are again? In what place does someone get attacked for wearing his team's colors?
Oh, and this attack was on a night that the Dodgers won the game.
So I had on my "SF" cap, and that was it. Otherwise, my attire was pretty bland, but still I wasn't part of the sea of Dodger blue. Frankly, I thought the blue was pretty cool to look at, and I appreciated seeing such dedicated fans - particularly after feeling for years in SF that it was a city that lacked the appreciation or interest in sports worthy of a big city.
For the first couple innings I was having fun. We were in a section where they provided unlimited Dodger dogs, nachos, and popcorn. The drinks, obviously, weren't also unlimited, but there was an energy in the group that I was enjoying, the sheer volume of booing notwithstanding. And that was the first thing I noticed that started to irk me -- sure, I'll boo from time to time, but the Dodgers fans booed nearly every time anything was said about the Giants, and the booing had almost nothing to do with the calls on the field or plays made by either team.
And then, it got personal. One fan in a Giants jersey made the mistake of walking up the stairs to his seat, and people were booing him so loudly that you couldn't hear the announcer; some folks started throwing popcorn and peanuts at him. A half inning later, another guy in a Giants jersey was walking down the aisle and this time the peanuts were raining down on him, from both sides. It would be one thing to be irritated to see an orange jersey in the blue sea and scoff at it; it's entirely another to shout at him and throw things at him.
It only got worse when the guy sitting next to me - who was part of our group - stated that he agreed with me that people were being overly rude and then, swear to god, turned away and in the same breath started booing a Giants fan at the top of his lungs. This man's children were sitting right next to him and, as children tend to do, started imitating their father and booed the Giants fan five rows down. Uh, hey kids, why bother with the fan down there when you've got one right here you could boo in his face?
It was about the time when a Giants fan a dozen rows down from us stood up and a whole section of people stood up near here and started pointing and screaming in unison "kick her out! kick her out!" that I started shaking. You know that feeling after you've just either witnessed a horrible tragedy or been in an accident, when the adrenaline starts pumping and your ability to process and respond is all based on instinct? That began to happen to me. I knew the record - one night, one man beaten - and I did not want to become the next person in the hospital, for the crime of wearing a Giants hat at the Dodgers-Giants game at Dodger Stadium. I had to get out - even though I wanted to watch some good baseball - because I started fearing that I would be next. That I would be the next person to be targeted with the booing, the food tossing, the chanting and pointing, and who knows what next? Mix a little alcohol (or a lot of alcohol) into something like this, and things can get scary.
So, we left well before the game ended, before we'd see the fireworks, in part because I was scared out of my mind. As we walked to the car in the dark parking lot, one man turned to me and said under his breath, "yeah, leave now that your team is losing" in a way that indicated he thought I was chickening out, as if the Giants' performance on the field and my desire to leave at the moment that I did was a combination reflecting on my strength or ability. Have I mentioned that at this point I hadn't even been wearing my hat for the past 15 minutes? Yeah, I had it folded up in my hand. I just walked faster.
I didn't stop shaking until I was halfway home, and I never want to go back to that awful place. And unless and until I go back and have a different experience, I will forever remember Dodger Stadium as a horrible place. The fans as a group were awful, and rather than watch the game and appreciate the athletes assembled on the field for them, they made it personal and went after the dozen or so Giants fans scattered among the thousands of Dodger blue.
-------------
For the record, this does not reflect my experience with LA fans so far. I have already been to several volleyball matches at USC and UCLA, and a couple Kings games at the Staples Center. So, I've been to a few sporting events in Los Angeles, and I would say that overall my experiences have been positive. At the most recent Kings game (where I got to cheer on my Detroit Red Wings), the purple-clad Angelenos would make cracks at the red-clad Detroiters (and vice versa), but it didn't escalate to the level of personal attacks and outright vitriol that I experienced last night at Dodger stadium. Instead, the fans focused on the game, and it was quite a game to watch (Wings won 7-4 in a wild one).
All of this is too bad, because the Dodgers are a good team with an amazing legacy. They have a beautiful stadium too, which is a throwback to an era of stadiums that seems long-forgotten in the mad rush of the past couple decades for teams to outdo one another in their bigger and better stadiums. The sea of blue was very exciting and could be such a boost for the home team, and the enthusiasm of many of the fans was infectious (I found myself clapping for a few incredible Dodger plays early on...). But that was all undone for me by the personalization and objectification of fellow (Giants) fans, on a scale and the likes of which I've never seen before last night.
Which is why Dodgers fans as the worst fans ever.
Don't demean the sport, elevate it. Don't tear down your opponents' supporters in the stands, cheer on your team on the field. Don't lose yourself and your sense of humanity in the moment, accept it and recognize it in everyone else around you.
-------------
By the way, the Dodgers ended up winning the game 4-3. I might have been happy for them, but I honestly could give a flying rat's a$$ about it at this point. I just hope that the handful of Giants fans who braved the game made it home safely.
Then the news came in about an attack the night before in which a Giants fan was beaten in the Dodgers parking lot by two men, resulting in a father of two ending up in the hospital in critical condition all for the sheer "crime" of wearing his team's colors. Remind me where we are again? In what place does someone get attacked for wearing his team's colors?
Oh, and this attack was on a night that the Dodgers won the game.
So I had on my "SF" cap, and that was it. Otherwise, my attire was pretty bland, but still I wasn't part of the sea of Dodger blue. Frankly, I thought the blue was pretty cool to look at, and I appreciated seeing such dedicated fans - particularly after feeling for years in SF that it was a city that lacked the appreciation or interest in sports worthy of a big city.
For the first couple innings I was having fun. We were in a section where they provided unlimited Dodger dogs, nachos, and popcorn. The drinks, obviously, weren't also unlimited, but there was an energy in the group that I was enjoying, the sheer volume of booing notwithstanding. And that was the first thing I noticed that started to irk me -- sure, I'll boo from time to time, but the Dodgers fans booed nearly every time anything was said about the Giants, and the booing had almost nothing to do with the calls on the field or plays made by either team.
And then, it got personal. One fan in a Giants jersey made the mistake of walking up the stairs to his seat, and people were booing him so loudly that you couldn't hear the announcer; some folks started throwing popcorn and peanuts at him. A half inning later, another guy in a Giants jersey was walking down the aisle and this time the peanuts were raining down on him, from both sides. It would be one thing to be irritated to see an orange jersey in the blue sea and scoff at it; it's entirely another to shout at him and throw things at him.
It only got worse when the guy sitting next to me - who was part of our group - stated that he agreed with me that people were being overly rude and then, swear to god, turned away and in the same breath started booing a Giants fan at the top of his lungs. This man's children were sitting right next to him and, as children tend to do, started imitating their father and booed the Giants fan five rows down. Uh, hey kids, why bother with the fan down there when you've got one right here you could boo in his face?
It was about the time when a Giants fan a dozen rows down from us stood up and a whole section of people stood up near here and started pointing and screaming in unison "kick her out! kick her out!" that I started shaking. You know that feeling after you've just either witnessed a horrible tragedy or been in an accident, when the adrenaline starts pumping and your ability to process and respond is all based on instinct? That began to happen to me. I knew the record - one night, one man beaten - and I did not want to become the next person in the hospital, for the crime of wearing a Giants hat at the Dodgers-Giants game at Dodger Stadium. I had to get out - even though I wanted to watch some good baseball - because I started fearing that I would be next. That I would be the next person to be targeted with the booing, the food tossing, the chanting and pointing, and who knows what next? Mix a little alcohol (or a lot of alcohol) into something like this, and things can get scary.
So, we left well before the game ended, before we'd see the fireworks, in part because I was scared out of my mind. As we walked to the car in the dark parking lot, one man turned to me and said under his breath, "yeah, leave now that your team is losing" in a way that indicated he thought I was chickening out, as if the Giants' performance on the field and my desire to leave at the moment that I did was a combination reflecting on my strength or ability. Have I mentioned that at this point I hadn't even been wearing my hat for the past 15 minutes? Yeah, I had it folded up in my hand. I just walked faster.
I didn't stop shaking until I was halfway home, and I never want to go back to that awful place. And unless and until I go back and have a different experience, I will forever remember Dodger Stadium as a horrible place. The fans as a group were awful, and rather than watch the game and appreciate the athletes assembled on the field for them, they made it personal and went after the dozen or so Giants fans scattered among the thousands of Dodger blue.
-------------
For the record, this does not reflect my experience with LA fans so far. I have already been to several volleyball matches at USC and UCLA, and a couple Kings games at the Staples Center. So, I've been to a few sporting events in Los Angeles, and I would say that overall my experiences have been positive. At the most recent Kings game (where I got to cheer on my Detroit Red Wings), the purple-clad Angelenos would make cracks at the red-clad Detroiters (and vice versa), but it didn't escalate to the level of personal attacks and outright vitriol that I experienced last night at Dodger stadium. Instead, the fans focused on the game, and it was quite a game to watch (Wings won 7-4 in a wild one).
All of this is too bad, because the Dodgers are a good team with an amazing legacy. They have a beautiful stadium too, which is a throwback to an era of stadiums that seems long-forgotten in the mad rush of the past couple decades for teams to outdo one another in their bigger and better stadiums. The sea of blue was very exciting and could be such a boost for the home team, and the enthusiasm of many of the fans was infectious (I found myself clapping for a few incredible Dodger plays early on...). But that was all undone for me by the personalization and objectification of fellow (Giants) fans, on a scale and the likes of which I've never seen before last night.
Which is why Dodgers fans as the worst fans ever.
Don't demean the sport, elevate it. Don't tear down your opponents' supporters in the stands, cheer on your team on the field. Don't lose yourself and your sense of humanity in the moment, accept it and recognize it in everyone else around you.
-------------
By the way, the Dodgers ended up winning the game 4-3. I might have been happy for them, but I honestly could give a flying rat's a$$ about it at this point. I just hope that the handful of Giants fans who braved the game made it home safely.
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