Dodgers Stadium in October.

So the San Francisco Giants’ Game 1 victory over the Philadelphia Phillies today got me thinking.

When was the last time a West Coast team was even in the World Series?

Well, that’d be the last time the Giants were there, with Barry Bonds and Co. falling to the Anaheim Angels in seven games in the 2002 classic  — which I predicted, for the record, in seven, in newsprint that fall. But yeah, that was waaaaay back when people actually read newspapers. Remember those days, Pembertonian?

Since 1990, when the Oakland Athletics were swept by the Cincinnati Reds , there’s been only one other Series with a West Coast bias … and that one was a snoozefest, with the San Diego Padres getting swept aside by the New York Yankees in 1998.

At least the Giants-Angels series was a good one, probably the best series since given it was the last one to go the distance.

Sad.

What ever happened to the good ol’ days? When people read newspapers. Tommy Lasorda shot out of the dugout with fists in the air. And I had nothing to worry about outside the stale bubblegum in my latest pack of Topps Traded. Life was good back then, hitting the jackpot (50 whole cents!) on my schoolyard bet with Kevin Crawford when Kirk Gibson hit that memorable shot against the Oakland Athletics.

Look at this West Coast representation in the Series back in the 70s and 80s.

1972            Oakland A’s 4, Cincinnati Reds 3
1973            Oakland A’s 4,  N.Y. Mets 3
1974             Oakland A’s 4, L.A. Dodgers 1
1977            N.Y. Yankees 4, L.A. Dodgers 2
1978            N.Y. Yankees 4, L.A. Dodgers 2
1981            L.A. Dodgers 4, N.Y. Yankees 2
1984            Detroit Tigers 4, San Diego Padres 1
1988            L.A. Dodgers 4, Oakland A’s 1
1989            Oakland A’s 4, S.F. Giants 0

What in Gibby’s name happened after that?

1. The Dodgers went in the crapper.
2. The Yankees got good again.

So when our homey Beau-C last night sent the text, “We’re on our way to the World Series!!!” I couldn’t help but reply …

“Sounds like you’re on your way to crazy town.”

“The looney bin.”

“ASH.”

But maybe the craziness will happen. Heck, all of us Left Coasters could use something to cheer for … even if it is for the Giants.

I mean, have you looked at our football teams? California is 4-11 in the NFL this season, and the 49ers (everyone’s pick to win the NFC West) are still 0-for five games in.

There isn’t a Southern California team in a title hunt in anything right now, so this is all we got.

Get it done Giants.  Don’t make me start rooting for the Los Angeles Galaxy. Shit, the Beckhams just lost tonight in the MLS playoffs too. Awesome.

Manny Ramirez’s final AB in a Dodger uniform being a gem of a rejection, ejected after just one pitch (here’s the VIDEO proof). One pitch! That pretty much sums up his tenure with the Blue Crew.

That sound you hear? That’s just the door hitting Manny in the Fanny. Here’s to keeping Vinny, hopefully Joe Torre, and getting rid of 99 this weekend. The circus has officially left town people.

And they said I was an idiot for calling Manny a clown when he first came to L.A.

You’re right. Manny wasn’t a clown. He was a freaking joke-errrrr.

Guarantee Joe T stays another year now that ManRam got ran. Why do you think he said he’d announced his future plans by next week? Just waiting for the circus to travel to Chicago. Good luck with that one Ozzie (more on Guillen below).

* * *

Speaking of psychos, how about the minor league meltdown and ejection of Gary Robinson (VIDEO) of the State College Spikes on Friday night? Pretty classic. Almost as good as Phil Wellman’s from a few years back.

Dude ripped out first base, autographed it, and gave it to a fan. Now that’s fan appreciation.

* * *

Then there was Ozzie Guillen’s ejection Sunday, for doing … well, nothing. Watch the video exclusively below on WCBias.com, or download it here (it’s big, so right click it and save it to your desktop).

As you’ll see, Guillen gets ejected despite not even making it halfway out to argue a double play call late in Sunday’s game against the New York Yankees.

Guillen said the heck with it, turning around before reaching the middle of the diamond, but was still run by the first base umpire.

Wow.

Reminds me of the time my Spanish teacher threw me out the moment I walked through her door on the first day of school because of my previous history of being a class clown (takes one to know one, Manny) during her courses. Ask Ryantific, he was there that day.

Well, good to see I’m not alone on the clown front. Here’s to Ozzie, Manny, and Gary, the only ones who get me.

Editor’s Note: A dark day and Dodgers season just got brighter as Vin Scully shocked many of us when he announced this afternoon he IS coming back for another season of “Dodger baseball.” Best news of the weekend! Now back to our previously scheduled post, pre-Vinny’s return announcement.

I have nothing clever to say on this day, which follows another rough night/morning with two crazy kids, a missed stoke with Pembertonian, and a Saturday where I spent most of the day in WordPress databases trying to restore a corrupt WCBias database.

If you were one of the two people who visited The Bias yesterday, you probably noticed all 500+ of the Bias’ posts were missing. Gone. Disappeared. Like Manny. No production whatsoever.

Strangest thing I’d ever seen in four years working with WordPress.

Took half the day, but I fixed it, thanks to WP-DB Backup. If you have a WP blog, be sure to use this plugin. Saved my ass, not to mention 211 posts by BG, and a couple hundred posts by Slim (194 posts), Pembertonian (76), Ryantific (36), WCBias Guests (27) and notsellingjeans (3).

Whatever happened to that jeans guy anyway?

Probably had a kid or something.

In fact, I believe our boy Ryantific will be having one shortly. Which means we’ll probably see less of him, too.

Now if BG has a kid, we might as well shut down this blog, because he’s our lifeblood, our ambasador to the blogosphere. Our Vin Scully if you will.

Which brings me to the topic of this post: Vinny.

Today was expected to be one of the saddest in LA Dodgers history as Vin was announcing his future plans before today’s game.

Why did we think he was leaving us? Health reasons? The guy is older than dirt. Family reasons? The guy probably has a million grandkids by now. Tired of travel. Tired of technology. Tired of where the game is headed. Tired of Manny.

He’s like a lot of us. And that’s why we love him.

Vinny, fortunately, is coming back for another season of memories. Here are some of the best memories he’s shared with us here on the West Coast over the past 61 seasons:

Tony Gwynn called Vin Scully an ambasador of the game when I was lucky enough to interview the Hall of Famer a few years back, and that’s something when one of the greatest hitters of all-time is saying that:

“Like most people, I was a fan to begin with. I listened to Vin Scully every night, knew all the ballplayers, their stats and all of that. I always made sure to show my respect to the guys before me. I’m about the game and giving back what a lot of those guys passed on to me. That’s the most important thing you can do, give these younger players what they need to know to be better.”

Scully is so good, he’s one of the Seven Wonders of the (Sports) World in my eyes:

“L.A.’s Big Three: Vin Scully, Bob Miller and the late-Chick Hearn, the greatest trifecta of sports announcers a city will ever see. Gold mics all around.”

And of course, Vinny is an all around good guy and one of the greatest sports announcers of all time. Pembertonian went with Harry Caray No. 1 on this day, but we all know he’s biased to the Midwest. We here at WCB aren’t “Biased.” And West Coast natives know who the real No. 1 is:

“There may not be a cozier baseball voice out there. While Scully has been the voice of the Dodgers for 59 years, I first heard him doing NBC games with Joe Garagiola — perhaps the greatest baseball commentator pairing of all.

“There are too many great Scully calls to mention, but to name a few: Kirk Gibson’s World Series homerun, Hank Aaron breaking Babe Ruth’s homerun record, and Dwight Clark’s endzone catch in the NFC championship game.”

And our kicker comes from our boy, BG, who has Vinny by his side every time he has to go to that sad sap job of his:

“I have two pictures tapes to my computer monitor in my office/extra bedroom. One is of Morrissey because anyone who can come up with a song like, “The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get” deserves all the props in the world, the second is a postcard imagine of Vin Scully.”

Here’s to Vinny being at all of our sides for at least another season.

- Sick file photo illustration by our own BG, who has been talked down from the ledge and will be posting for The Bias again shortly.

So I’ve been thinking: Since The Artist Formely Known as Slim shares the same last name as the guy who wrote Winnie the Pooh, well . . . it just seems like there ought to be a Pooh name. So, of course, there’s the obvious: Pooh. Then there’s Heffalump — or just Heff. I sort of like that. De-Slimmed is not exactly a half-full kinda guy, so maybe Eeyore works.

He probably wouldn’t dig Piglet. And Tigger sounds too . . . I quit you.

Hmmm. Let’s think about this. Meanwhile, I wanted to throw in my two cents on not-Slim’s last blog post, where he laments on how sucky the year has been for SoCal baseball. To which I would add: Hey, Slim,  what part of the country do you think San Diego is in? Not only are the Padres having a stellar year — and, for the life of me, I don’t know how — but they’ve been the best and most consistent team in the NL pretty much all season.

Being a Californian for over a decade now, I would like to support the Pads in their quest to make all pre-season predictions woefully wrong. But there’s this lingering problem: Those effing camo uniforms.

I mean, seriously, what sort of lame pandering is that? Why not just go ahead and have Lee Greenwood sing “Proud to Be an American” before every game, just before having the Republican-of-the-day toss out the first pitch. All to be covered by Fox News.

Seriously, what a load of crap.  Just because there’s a gazillion military dudes in San Diego, that doesn’t mean they need to dedicate uniforms to them. Did the pirates ever don steel worker hats to show their support of Pittsburgh’s main industry? Do the Tigers wear GM and Ford patches?

Yeah, yeah, you Limbaugh parrots will say, “But the military guys are heroes.”  To which I would say real heroes save lives, not end them.

How about if the Padres wear doctor uniforms? Or firefighter digs. Hell, remember when A-Rod saved that kid from an oncoming vehicle? Maybe the Padres should wear Yankee uniforms.

“Hey, you Commie, Taliban-loving socialist, Obamacare lover,” the Tea Baggers will spit, “the men and women of the military are protecting our freedom.”  But, I would say, the real people protecting our freedoms are the attorneys who have defended them in civil rights cases. Or how about Supreme Court justices like Thurgood Marshall?

I’d say he was a hero.  Though, for some reason, tea bagger types hate him. Becuase, you know, that whole separate but equal was going pretty well.

Hey, how about this, Padres: How about you have uniforms that look like Supreme Court robes? Or, shoot, if we’re gonna get political — which camo uniforms do — how about being fair and going with peace signs? Because me personally? If I’m taking my child to a baseball game that I have to pay an arm and a leg for, I like the idea of promoting peace not war.

So maybe Pooh’s right — maybe San Diego shouldn’t count as California. Because, remember, Pads peeps, this is the Left Coast.

It started with the Fourth of July, which we spent in Cambria watching the waves and fireworks at Moonstone Cove. Both were sick. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my board or get a piece of the waves.

Although a day later we got the stoke.

Then, on Wednesday, we headed up to Oakland to take in the New York Yankees-Oakland Athletics game.

Great ballgame. Got to see Reggie hang with Ricky, and Jeter with A-Rod. All in all it was a good night.

Cap that with all the LeBron drama, now he and the Miami Heat are being hated on like the New York Yankees, and the death of longtime Yankees announcer Bob Sheppard – the only Yankees employee never criticized by George Steinbrenner. He was the gold standard of PA, and he will be missed.

I was lucky enough to visit the old Yankee Stadium in 2004 for our one-year anniversary. The Yankees were in Anaheim, site of today’s home run derby (which will be without Yankee Robinson Cano), during our trip, but because they were out of town we were able see a lot more of the stadium (including the locker room and press box) during our tour.

I’ve included a shot of the view from Sheppard’s “office,” which I must say might have been the best gig of all time. Consider the lineup of the first game he ever called, which included eight Hall of Famers: Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Johnny Mize, Yogi Berra, and Phil Rizzuto for the Yankees, and Ted Williams, Bobby Doerr, and Lou Boudreau for the Boston Red Sox.

His first game was also the debut of Mickey Mantle – not a bad guy to come into the profession with. If only we were all so lucky.

On Saturday, to cap it all off, picked up a NY Yankee Gnome at Ross and got to crack the bottle with Ryantific on one of our finest homebrewed batches of beer – a chipotle red ale that’s as good as any other batch we’ve brewed thus far.

WCBias Brew, coming to a store near you.

All in all a good week. Let’s hope this one is half as solid.

- All pics by the Slim one.

Can the San Diego Padres really look this good?

Editor’s Note: This is part of a series of posts from WCBias.com guest contributors. Interested in writing a guest post for WCBias.com? Contact us.

By Erick Smith

Maybe low expectations can be a great thing.

Just think of those times when you’re set-up on a blind date and all you’ve been told is “Well she has a great personality.” That’s the dating kiss of death. Definitely don’t expect a looker.

As time slowly creeps toward that 6:30 deadline when it’s time to pick her up, the gameplan is to play it by ear. She can’t be that bad, right?

An hour or two into the date, things are going well and this girl isn’t the ugly duckling she may have been billed as. This might not be the sexiest girl at the dance, but she will get some looks here and there.

This brings me to the San Diego Padres.

Roughly a quarter into this summer’s baseball season, the Padres look more like a prince than a frog. Expected to lose close to triple-digit games, the Padres have surprised everybody by sitting atop the National League with one of baseball’s best records (30-20).

During the spring, pundits across the nation dismissed the Padres final two months of the 2009 season, but it looks like their 34-25 finish translated to 2010.

People around San Diego, and I’m sure the nation, are wondering if the Padres are playoff contenders. I’ve held off writing this because I’ve been afraid to say yes because sooner or later the universe will balance itself out, right?

This time I’m not so sure. I don’t think this is some mixed up parallel universe.

Pitching and defense have propelled San Diego to the top. The Major League leading 2.96 ERA is only 0.02 better than that of the St. Louis Cardinals, a team the Padres edged out 2-1 during a three-game series this week.

Accomplishing this is a starting five of Jon Garland (6-2, 2.15 ERA), Wade LeBlanc (2-3, 3.71), Clayton Richard (4-3, 3.00), Mat Latos (5-3, 3.08) and Cal Poly’s own Kevin Correia (4-4, 4.03).

Even the most optimistic of Padres homers would never have expected this group, minus Chris Young, to perform so well. There have been plenty of games this season when all five have looked down right unhittable.

Ah yes, that word, hitting. Where the entire pitching staff has looked so great, offensively this club is a joke. Think Michael Richards booed off the stage atrocious.

Where to start with this group?

Instead of showing individual stats I’ll let the team’s .322 OBP (22nd in baseball), and .242 average (26th) do the talking. No regular starter is hitting better than .300. San Diego ranks 22nd in runs scored (194). Downright disastrous numbers.

Most of the problem comes from the revolving door in the outfield. Starters have included Will Venable, Tony Gwynn Jr., Kyle Blanks, Scott Hairston, Jerry Hairston Jr., Oscar Salazar, Luis Durango, Chris Denorfia and Matt Stairs.

I think that’s the complete group but after a certain point all the mediocrity starts to blend together. The list will certainly grow as the Padres try to find just one person who resembles an everyday starter.

Even at this juncture, knowing Adrian Gonzalez will be a threat and Chase Headley will continue his breakout season, maybe it’s time to admit the Padres are not exactly who we thought they were during the spring.

Sure they’re not hitting as well as hoped but pitching and defense is carrying this team. I’ve been saying the Padres are like the Indians in “Major League.” They were a joke at the start but somehow they found a way to win and that’s all San Diego has done this summer.

This team might not be the bombshell that is the New York Yankees or Tampa Bay Rays, but just like the girl from the blind date there is no shame being seen in public with her.

Well, technically a tie at the moment. But the Padres won’t be there long. I mean, come on — they’re the Padres.

But the Dodgers — they’re a different story. At the beginning of the season, it wouldn’t  have been a stretch to predict they’d be in first place at the end of May. Except with their lackluster start, it sort of is a surprise.

And the star so far is Andre Ethier.  The guy’s nearly hitting .400 and right now is a triple crown candidate — for the entire league (11 HRs, 38 RBI). Of course, it’s a long season, but right now he’s looking like an MVP.

***

By the way? I can’t stand interleague play. When it first began, it was sort of a novelty. The Yankees v. the Dodgers. Cubs v. Red Sox. But now I think it sucks.

First of all, it created uneven schedules. If you get lucky and get to play the AL West during the season, you’re probably going to win more games than the team that has to play the AL East. So when it comes playoff time, you’re at a disadvantage for home field advantage.

Also, it was always special when the AL met the NL in post-season — because they never met before then.  Now it’s just a letdown — especially if one team dominated the other during the season.

Also, I hate how the league plays on cross-town rivalries. It’s a blatant money gimmick — even if the Mets suck, they’ll draw huge crowds if they play the Yankees.  At the same time it pits communities against each other, and there’s often a class component to it. The Cubs fans are much more frat boy/yuppie than the working class south siders — and they both hate each other for their respective ways. Same with the wine-sipping Giants fans vis-a-vis the rough and tumble Athletics crew.

What better way to exploit class differences than to pit sports teams against one another?

Yo Joe, how 'bout a start once in a while? Mo Rivera is perfect again this season, with a 0.00 ERA in 10 games.

Props to Oakland’s Dallas Braden tonight for chucking a perfect game against the Tampa Bay Rays (in case you missed it, since it came on Mother’s Day and all: and nobody showed up in Oakland to watch it anyway (12,228 fans, really? That stadium was 2/3rds empty, for a perfect game?).

Note to A-Rod the A-Hole: Stay off Dallas’ mound yo. Check that, keep stomping on that mound, so the A’s can keep stomping the AL East.

I don’t want to stomp on notsellingjeans’ beat here, so I’ll keep this post on The Cutter, The Closer, and The City of Dreams.

Putting my West Coast Bias aside for a minute: great upcoming piece by EastSidePN’s E:60 this week on New York Yankees closer Mariano Rivera.

While watching a preview tonight on SportsCenter, and smacking the floor with my jaw after seeing his stats – 0.00 ERA this season at the age of 40, 0.74 ERA in the playoffs, 13 runs in 133.3 postseason innings, 39 postseason saves, and recording the final out in four World Series! – I couldn’t help but ask myself the question:

No, not “is Mariano one of the greatest New York Yankees of all-time?” like ESPY asked.

Or is he the greatest reliever in MLB history?

Is Mo the best right-handed pitcher we’ve ever seen?

Not even close. Panama City’s finest was never given an opportunity to be that guy.

But what if he had been used by Joe Torre as a starting pitcher after learning how to throw that disgusting cut fastball in 1997, by accident, in a bullpen session with good ol’ Dodgers catcher Mike Borzello (yeah, so at least he’s been part of something in his MLB career, along with being Torre’s godson I guess)?

What if?

A few overlooked stats about this somehow overlooked/soon to be hall of famer (not sure if only the second player to record 500 saves can go overlooked, but still): Mo made his debut 15 years ago this month, May 23, 1995, to be exact, and went on to start 10 games that season.

Number of starts since? Zip, zilch, zero. Nada. Not a single start for the inventor of the nastiest pitch of our generation. A pitch everyone and their mom (it’s Mother’s Day, pardon the cliché) knows is coming at the end of every ballgame.

Oddly enough, this is a question that isn’t brought up by the mainstream media, not a shocker I guess, or in the blogosphere for that matter. Maybe it was asked a long time ago, before the Internets, but the best thing I could find nowadays was this take by a NYTimes blogger on changing the role of the starting pitcher and making The Closer be The Opener.

Interesting conversation.

I know I’d rather have Mo trot out to the mound for a start than Javier Vazquez, and his 1-3 record and 9.78 ERA in five starts, but that’s just me. Maybe it’s the Left Coast state of mind.

Speaking of the Westside, I’m also looking forward to Straight Outta L.A. on Tuesday, the story of the LA Raiders.

ESPN be getting it done like Dallas Braden this week. If only they could remain close to perfect like Mo after all these years.

Already in midseason form

Chad Billingsley sat inside his dark apartment and stared warily out the window.  He had the curtains drawn and almost no light entered into the dark void.  Chad was busy applying for jobs posted on Craig’s List, brooding silently and clutching a mug of green tea which had gone cold thirty minutes ago.  He’d taken two showers already this bright morning and was considering a third but he couldn’t tear himself away from the laptop.  He was afraid if he got up he might miss a new posting and he wasn’t sure his blackberry could get service in his bathroom.  He made a mental list to check the signal from inside the bathtub later the afternoon and glanced out the window.  Across the street he saw a mailman slowly delivering packages and letters of joy to the neighborhood’s occupants and Chad silently cursed the man, envious of his anonymous and worry-free existence.  He lowered his head and gently massaged his temples, eyes squelched shut…how had he fallen so far, so fast?  Not one year ago he was the face of one of the best pitching staffs in the league, a shoe-in for the All Star Game and a fantasy force to be reckoned with.  Now?  Now he was a punching bag.

He brought the putrid tea to his lips and grimaced as he tasted the tepid liquid.  He put the cup down on his countertop but missed the surface completely and the mug dropped to the floor, exploding on impact.  This wasn’t the first time this had happened.  In fact, it was a daily occurrence around his apartment and the floors were littered with mug shrapnel from mornings just such as this.  And that wasn’t all-his entire house was a mess.  He couldn’t pour cereal into a bowl or put bread into the toaster and the bathroom situation was…well, the bathroom was just an embarrassment.  Chad sighed again as he turned the volume down on the Morrissey CD he was listening to.  He tried to flip the remote control onto his couch but missed badly, sending the device flying into the wall where it predictably exploded into tiny pieces.

Chad went back to the computer, clicking on all of the Craig’s List links; applying to anything that looked easy: Receptionist, Data Entry Clerk, things of that nature.  He had been really excited to get a response back from an ad which promised “Fabulous Riche$$!! Work from You’re Home!!” and quickly gave his credit card information to the very legitimate sounding bOb ESposito so they could process his background check.  He expected to hear back from them any day now, but didn’t want to put all his eggs in one basket so he kept applying everywhere.  Suddenly there was a knock at his door.  He looked nervously through the peephole, tripping over the hem of his robe in the process.  “Shoot,” he said to himself as he spied Jimmy Nunez, the neighbor’s kid standing on the other side of the door, a stack of baseball cards wrapped up in one sweaty hand, a careworn first baseman’s mitt in the other.

“Hey Chad!  Chad!  Chad come out and play catch with me!”  Jimmy yelled through the door.

Chad retreated to the rear of his kitchen and crouched down near the pantry, hoping Jimmy would tire himself out and leave him alone.

“Chad, come out!  I heard you in there crying, I know you’re home, let’s play some catch!  Don’t worry about last time, I brought extra balls so you won’t have to chase them when I throw them past you anymore.  Chad, come on!”

With a grunt and a resigned snort he arose and slunk to the door, throwing it open and invited Jimmy in.  Jimmy made a face at the weird smells coming from the kitchen and stepped cautiously around the broken bits of ceramic before flopping himself down on a kitchen stool.  “Well?  Get your glove, I have Pony League tonight and I want to get a practice in before I go.  Plus, I think I can help you with your curveball.”

There was a shady park right across the street from Jimmy and Chad’s so they crossed the street and squared off 50 feet from each other.  Jimmy’s first throw hit Chad in the chest and fell to his feet.  “Did you lose it in the sun again?”  Jimmy asked, concerned.  Chad picked up the ball and threw it 100 feet over Jimmy’s head.  “Did it slip again?”  Jimmy asked, producing a second ball from the pocket of his Warren G Harding Middle School windbreaker.  Chad focused with all of his might and managed to snare the second throw from Jimmy.  His second toss shot like a rocket straight out of his hand and into the ground 10 feet in front of him, it rolled harmlessly to a stop just in front of Jimmy’s Vans.  He scooped, picking the ball up and flipped it back to Chad who caught it with a suspicious stab of his glove.  Jimmy shouted, “Nice grab, Chad, two in a row!  Good work!” in an encouraging voice.

Chad began to wonder why he hadn’t wanted to play catch with Jimmy earlier, playing catch with him was fun!  Nobody in the stands yelling at him, no visits from his coaches every inning to discuss how they wanted him to pitch to somebody, just free and easy, back and forth, the way it used to be.  They stopped after fifteen minutes when Jimmy’s mom called from the front door reminding him he had homework to do.  Jimmy bargained for an extra 5 minutes which they used to go to the 7-11 on the corner and get Slurpees; Jimmy went for strictly Wild Cherry but Chad was feeling good and went with a mix of all four flavors.  They enjoyed their Slurpees in silence before Jimmy took a step towards the door.  “Keep up the good work,” he said.  “Maybe I’ll bring Tommy Janowitz over tomorrow and we can work on your fielding a little bit.  I’ll remind him not to hit it too hard though, we don’t want you getting a bloody nose again.  Anyway, see you later.”  They fist-bumped and then walked out into the midmorning sunshine.