Wave goodbye to the McCourts: Dancing in the streets is allowed

Let’s party. Let’s make like Kool & the Gang. Let’s throw confetti, imbibe a wee too much, dance until the feet blister, sing lyrics we can’t quite remember.

You are allowed to be gleeful today. Allowed to overreact, overindulge, over whatever you want.

The McCourt era is officially dead.

I was going to put on my little sailor cap and run down the street and kiss a nurse, but the wife is funny about things like that. Maybe we could invite Hank Williams Jr. over, and just ask that he skip the political commentary.

Twenty years after riots broke out in the streets of Los Angeles, there is reason to take to them again in celebration. The darkest chapter in Dodgers’ history is over.

For the moment we can forget all our very real questions and concerns about Guggenheim Baseball Management, and just go all happy feet. Smile until it hurts. Relish a fresh beginning and the exit from the team of Frank and Jamie McCourt.

Maybe the new guys won’t prove any better, though I’m liking the odds. Maybe nothing changes, or in some dark alternate universe, they actually get worse. Maybe a giant asteroid is about to hit the Earth and Bruce Willis is nowhere to be found.

But right now, at this very moment, just rejoice. The family that sent one of the most iconic and cherished of all Los Angeles civic treasures into financial ruin, is gone from the team. Pop the cork on the good stuff.

That Frank McCourt somehow turned this into a near $1-billion personal windfall, that he incredibly duped the new owners into keeping half control of the Dodger Stadium parking lots, is anguish for another day.

Today we party. Ding dong, McCourt is gone. Everything begins anew. Hope that there is an ownership group that is actually committed to the team and winning is reborn.

Feel good. Hug a stranger. Find an old sailor’s cap. It’s a gray and overcast day in Los Angeles, and it’s absolutely beautiful.

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Wave goodbye to the McCourts: dancing in the streets is allowed