Optimism doused at Dodger Stadium

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There wasn’t much hope, truth be told, down 7-5 heading to the ninth inning against a team like the Phillies, but Joe Carrion wasn’t having any of it. Carrion wore a Steve Garvey jersey and a face that was sad and solemn one moment and then in a flash hopeful the next as he stood at his seat –- Reserved Section, Row S, Seat 24 –- ready to root his team to a comeback.

I’d been eyeing Carrion for a while, particularly in the eighth inning, when he bounded up and down the steep stairs here, waving a Dodgers towel, shouting, pumping his fists, leading a constant “Let’s Go Dodgers” chant, completely and utterly unworried about what anyone thought of him even though he was acting a bit on the maniacal side.

Now I stood with Carrrion, a 30-year-old balding, beer-bellied, blue-collar glass glazer, along with his cousin and a buddy -– three guys who said they have gone to 35 Dodgers games this year –- as the game dwindled. The ninth began. Down went Nomar, feebly. Carrion kept chanting, kept clapping, kept shouting, and occasionally slapped hard on the blue seat in front of him in such a way that the seat sounded like a deep drum. He sneered, indignant, spotting a steady, slow stream of Dodgers fans –- folks who’d been on their feet, shouting madly when their team was ahead –- as they made way for the exits and the traffic jam home. Carrion wondered: “What kind of fans are you guys?”

Down went Casey Blake. From Carrion, loudly: “Ah, damn, what?...” Then came a short grouping of expletives I can’t write on this blog but you can imagine what he said. Then, “WHAT?”

Jeff Kent up next. The fans were on their feet, the vast majority at least, but most of them were stone quiet or just about and the only people who were really making noise were Carrion and his cousin and his friend: “Come on Kent, make up for all that (another expletive here) you put us through this season! Come on Dodgers. Come on Dodgers!” Sweat was pouring from his brow, his eyes were wide....God, he wanted it....

Kent swung. The liner he hit headed straight for Pedro Feliz’s glove at third base. Feliz snatched it; third out, last inning, game over, Phillies 7-5 over the Dodgers in Game 4, a commanding lead, an almost impossible lead to overcome, but Carrion, disgusted and sad as he stood there with that what-the-heck-did-I-just-witness look, took a deep breath and then vowed that his team was going to end up on top. “We’ll be back,” he said.

Oh, to be that optimistic.

-- Kurt Streeter