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Bill Plaschke• E-mail
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Of all the numbers floating atop the sudsy Dodger Stadium joy Saturday night -- 20 years, three-game sweep, eight more wins -- the most important one was never mentioned.
White towels fluttering. Jacketed fans screaming. A chilly sky pierced by chilling screams.
It is a day off, but the lights are on, the cramped Dodgers clubhouse filled with players, reporters, destiny, sweep, Manny, Manny, Manny.
CHICAGO -- We interrupt the whiny bleatings of sorrowful soused bleacher bums today to inject a bit of sober truth.
CHICAGO -- October arrived Wednesday on the back of a chilly lake wind and a nasty neighborhood roar.
The distance is only 30.92 miles.
His dreadlocks glistening in champagne, his ears ringing with love, Manny Ramirez grabbed a microphone in front of the Dodgers dugout.
A season of grand cacophony climaxed Thursday afternoon in a most beautiful silence.
Soon, perhaps today, there will be champagne spraying from the weary fists of Dodgers division champions.
Through the thick tension that enveloped the Dodgers' clubhouse Tuesday afternoon, a pennant-race game blared ominously from one of the overhead plasma televisions.