California Dreamin’ Meets Reality

Aside from the (a) sun, (b) fun, (c) ocean, and (d) general proximity to Linda Evans, one of the things people back East have always (a) noticed, (b) envied, (c) resented, and (d) hated about Southern California is that its sports teams generally are (a) winners, (b) popular, (c) able to attract the best available talent, and (d) almost never concerned with the wind-chill factor.

My, how teams have changed.

As the Year of Our Sports 1986 nears an end, every single team in this neck of the beach has, in one way or another, screwed up. Southern Californians during the past 12 months have endured some of the greatest flips, flops and choke jobs seen in this country since Brooklyn had baseball.

Things these days are definitely down and out in Beverly Hills.

Unless the Rams do something miraculous, like whip the Washington Redskins in Sunday’s NFC playoff game on government property, this year is going to go down in history as the year New York and Chicago got a big laugh at Los Angeles’ expense.

After all, the Bears won the Super Bowl, the Mets won the World Series, and the two best records in the NFL this season belonged to teams from the Second City and the First. Even Boston got into the act, winning the professional basketball championship and almost winning the baseball.

Even Louisville dadgum Kentucky had a better year than Los Angeles. The local university won the college basketball championship and the local race-track railbirds watched California’s favorite pony, Snow Chief, take the apple at the Kentucky Derby. Preakness, Schmeakness. Churchill Downs was the big one.

It all began back in January, when the Rams rampaged into Chicago to fight for the right to play in Super Bowl XX. The Bears scored XXIV points. The Rams? Well, all we can ask is: What’s the Roman numeral for zero?

In college basketball, it was the sort of year in which Loyola Marymount and Pepperdine were better than UCLA and USC. Imagine the mist in John Wooden’s eyes when UCLA was eliminated from the NIT postseason tournament by the UC Irvine Anteaters. It’s true. The Bruins got inhaled right up Irvine’s nose.

Professional basketball was supposed to be different. The Lakers, after all, hardly were going to lose to the--ha, ha, ha--Houston Rockets. Right. And God didn’t make the little green apples. Ralph Sampson personally eliminated the Lakers by making a basket without even looking at the basket. It was a rare moment for Magic Johnson: Losin’ time!

The baseball season was bizarre. The Dodgers tried everything from Mexican pitchers to Australian shortstops, but nothing worked. Well, Fernando worked, but not much else. The Dodgers, the rich and famous Dodgers, had to scramble to keep from finishing dead last. Marge Schott’s dog played with more enthusiasm.

Over by Disneyland, the Angels fooled everybody by easily winning their division. They played Wally Ball and had a good time. But just when one well-pitched ball, fast or curve or fork, would have put them in the World Series, somebody threw a gopher. Whereupon Gene Autry telephoned Roy Rogers to inquire which taxidermist had stuffed Trigger, figuring he could order the same process for the losing pitcher.

The football season did not bring any joy to the pour souls here on the Left Coast. The USC Trojans and UCLA Bruins did qualify for bowl games, but, unfortunately, they were bowl games not officially recognized by any living person not connected with college football. One was the Florida Citrus Bowl and the other, if memory serves correctly, was the Cuckoo For Cocoa Puffs Bowl.

The Raiders did next to nothing right. Their first-round draft choice was no help. They lost their first three games. They lost their last four games, including one to those Munsters of the Midway, the Indianapolis Colts. What a lousy season. The Silver and Pink even missed the playoffs. Off with their heads.

While the Rams did much better, their failure to win either of the final two games meant that they would have to play an extra playoff game, on the road, and tip-toe through an NFL obstacle course to stay alive. This Sunday, they will attempt to beat the Washington Redskins for the right to meet the New York Giants, which is like trying to beat King Kong for the right to meet Godzilla.

This has sort of been the Us Decade out here in the land of milk and money. Since the ‘80s began, Los Angeles teams have won three NBA championships, a World Series and a couple of Super Bowls. We dress for success out here.

So, 1986 has become a period of adjustment. Southern Californians are not accustomed to hanging around with losers. Oh, sure, the Clippers and Kings have continued to live down to expectations. But we never hang around with them, so they don’t count.

About the only satisfaction we have at the moment is that the Super Bowl is ours--because Pasadena’s the host. The way things have been going lately, though, Pasadena by then will still be cleaning up the wreckage from a four-float crash at the Tournament of Roses Parade in which several innocent bystanders, including TV announcers Mariette Hartley and John Davidson, will be found smothered under a big pile of roses and Kleenex.

Poor Southern California. The two things we never used to have were winters and losers. Now, God help us, we are united with all the rest of the states. There is not one championship team here. We might as well be Idaho.