Real Baseball in L.A.: the Angels of Wrigley Field

I’m not sure when I started to hate the Dodgers. Was it when the city made the questionable land swap and evicted Chicano families from Chavez Ravine? Was it when Dodger Stadium opened in 1962 and an outraged public found out there were no drinking fountains? Was it years later when Al Campanis said blacks lacked the “necessities” to be big league managers?

Or, was it when an unsuspecting man in Arizona last week complimented me on the “Dodgers” cap I was wearing? Noting the dark blue color and the red-and-white “L.A.” insignia, he said, “Nice cap. Is that the Dodgers’ new hat?”

“No,” I growled. “ This is a 1956 Los Angeles Angels’ hat. They were in L.A. before the Dodgers came. Not everyone in L.A. is a Dodger fan, you know.”

I bring up my beef with the Dodgers because today is the start of the 1993 season. Needless to say, I hope Lasorda & Co. lose soon and often.

I dislike the Dodgers for all the above stated reasons. But most of all, I don’t like them because they messed up baseball in Los Angeles. Because of them, my beloved Angels and the rival Hollywood Stars of the Pacific Coast League left town.

The Dodgers’ success on the field and at the box office convinced the expansion Los Angeles Angels of the American League to flee for Orange County in 1966 to establish their own identity. They got to Anaheim and proclaimed themselves the team of every resident of the state. They called themselves the California Angels.

Ugh.

Now, I realize I long for days that will never return. L.A. has grown up a lot since the Dodgers arrived in 1958, and there are many who can’t remember the days when the Dodgers weren’t in L.A.

But loyalty means a lot to me. I gave it a long time ago to the minor league Angels. They played in Wrigley Field, a 19,000-seat replica of the one in Chicago, and the trips to South-Central L.A. to watch Sunday doubleheaders were part of the fun of growing up in pre-Dodger L.A.

Ever sit through a 22-inning first game of a twin bill? I did. I even made it to the third inning of the second game before Dad decided this kid had had enough.

When the Dodgers arrived, baseball rules stipulated that the minor league teams could not remain in the same city. So the Angels moved to Spokane, Wash., where they were renamed the Indians, and their rivals, the Stars, went to Salt Lake City.

I didn’t like the Angels’ departure. Nor did I understand why the Dodgers couldn’t play in beloved Wrigley at the corner of Avalon Boulevard and 42nd Place. Civic pride, the idea that bigger was really better and the ambitions of then-Dodger owner Walter O’Malley were beyond my comprehension. I just wanted to watch baseball L.A.-style.

When the expansion Angels came into the American League in 1961, I was happy. Featuring familiar faces from the PCL like Steve Bilko and Albie Pearson, the Angels played in Wrigley Field. They lost a lot of games that season but I didn’t care. It was a return to real baseball in L.A.

My loyalty had been rewarded.

The next season, however, they moved to brand-new, 56,000-seat Dodger Stadium. I had mixed emotions about it but I stayed with the Angels. It was a source of constant delight that the Angels did little things to thumb their noses at the big-boy Dodgers. The Halos, for example, never referred to their home ballpark as Dodger Stadium. It was always Chavez Ravine to them.

In the initial season at the Ravine, the Angels were in first place on July 4--a heady achievement for a second-year team. Eventually, the team faded to third but I thought the Angels gave the city something the Dodgers couldn’t--pennant fever with a connection to the city’s baseball past.

But alas, the Angels fled to Orange County and I decided that was enough. My loyalty didn’t belong to them anymore.

I considered giving it to the Dodgers. I had cheered for them even though they had replaced my PCL Angels and played in the Coliseum.

But, really, I couldn’t. After all, these were the guys who left loyal fans in Brooklyn for bigger paydays and a stadium they couldn’t get from the city fathers in New York.

So, let’s get real here. The Dodgers in the World Series in October? Forget it. More likely, they’ll be in the middle in the pack. Strawberry and Davis need to stay healthy and the bullpen must come through for any chance at post-season play. Mike Piazza, the new catcher, should be rookie of the year, however.

But who’ll win it all?

The Angels of Wrigley Field. Always.