Orange County Needs to Figure Out the Score Without Its Jumbotron

I tried laughing. That didn’t work.

Neither did crying.

All I’m left with is to pound my fist into my mitt and mutter, “Say it ain’t so, say it ain’t so.”

Tell me they didn’t really say that. Tell me that nobody can be that out of touch.

Let me ask you, when you think of federal disaster relief, what comes to mind?

Don’t you think of Midwestern floods and the possessions of a lifetime floating downriver? Don’t you think of Hurricane Andrew pummeling the Southeast? Don’t you think of tornadoes ripping the heart out of a small town?

And most passionately this week, don’t you think of a Los Angeles earthquake and 20,000 people living in tents? Of food shortages? Of emergency health problems? Of unsafe houses? Of schools shut down? Of psyches shattered? Of nearly 50 people killed, for Godsakes?

In Orange County, we think of the Sony Jumbotron. We think of an instant-replay scoreboard.

Brother, can you lend a dime?

How about a few mil?

Sure, thousands of our neighbors in Los Angeles are homeless, but, hey, what about us? We got a dead scoreboard down here, for Pete’s sake! You try and live without instant replay and see how you like it!

I wish I were kidding, but that is the message sent out by Orange County public officials. The Board of Supervisors declared our county a state of emergency this week, a first step toward going after some federal disaster relief.

The supervisors noted, apparently without any hint of sheepishness, that the city of Anaheim is most eager for some federal assistance, partly because the city-owned stadium was damaged. That damage occurred when the giant Jumbotron scoreboard collapsed into the left field stands.

Given the overwhelming devastation in Los Angeles, the reaction of most people to the scoreboard collapse likely was a big “So what?”

Not Orange County. We didn’t develop the stereotype out of thin air that we’re an isolated, unfeeling, materialistic bastion of self-aggrandizement.

Asked flat-out whether stadium damage should qualify for assistance, Supervisor Tom Riley should have spotted that as a fastball down the middle. You prayed he’d have said something like, “Given the massive destruction in Los Angeles, I doubt any of us would feel too comfortable asking for money that could go to people in need.”

Instead, the board chairman, he of the good life down here, replied: “If the criteria makes it eligible under the law, I think you should get your share.”

Marie Antoinette would have loved this place.

Maybe if the county writes a real spiffy application grant, it can ace out a school or an orphanage for the last few thousand bucks of federal aid.

What’s next, Newport Beach asking for funds to replace the giant guitar atop the Hard Rock Cafe? (Hey, I’m just kidding; it wasn’t damaged).

I presume this is all handled through paperwork. I almost wish it weren’t; I wish someone had to go in person and ask for the relief money.

Call me a softie, but I’d hate to be the guy standing in line asking for money for Jumbotron when the person next to me was asking for food and water. “Well, you see, sir, we have this real cool scoreboard and it fell down and made a helluva mess.”

In applying for state-of-emergency status, the supervisors noted that part of the justification is because the county helped Los Angeles during the emergency and, therefore, should get some money back. Whatever sense that made was obliterated by the open declaration that Anaheim also wanted money for the scoreboard repair.

Obviously, someone needs to pay for Jumbotron, although my initial question would be why the quake caused the thing to collapse in the first place, given that not much else was damaged in the county.

I’m sure the government works in mysterious ways, but it’s hard to imagine any federal relief official approving the Anaheim request. The underpinning of American public support for disaster relief is that any of us can picture ourselves in the place of the victims.

We can picture working into the night with sandbags against the floodwaters, only to lose everything. We can imagine carrying heirlooms from the house before disaster strikes. We can empathize with people huddled in the basement as the twister strikes.

But an electronic blinking scoreboard that happens to topple into the cheap seats?

Go to the end of the line, buddy. We’re trying to help people whose lives have unraveled.

Probably, our local officials won’t understand why people will be outraged when they hear that Orange County wants to elbow its way up to the trough to repair ol’ Jumbo.

And if they don’t, that’s exactly the point.