Tracy Has Proved to Be a Saint Among the Sinners

It appears now Jim Tracy will not be major league baseball’s manager of the year--like anyone was thinking there was even a chance of that back on Nov. 1 when the Dodgers hired the corporate-appearing stiff--the puppet strings from above almost visible to the naked eye.

Maybe a victory over Curt Schilling on Friday and a sweep of the Diamondbacks on the heels of trying to beat the Giants with Tom Goodwin and Marquis Grissom in the same lineup might satisfy the three-miracle requirement for canonization, but Wednesday night was probably the team’s final appearance in Dodger Stadium this year.

And for the 13th consecutive year, this season will end without a playoff win.

Just what could the Dodgers have been thinking when they hired Tracy?

Based on the front office’s track record, I would imagine whatever they were thinking, they were way off base. But somehow--they still got it right.

Tracy, along with Paul Lo Duca and the power of Shawn Green, have stolen MVP honors for the Dodgers, and nice guys do have the ability to finish first.

Too bad everyone else was so bad.

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FOR ME, there’s nothing like the final Dodger home game of the year, you know much like the final day of school so many years ago, the exhilaration of knowing you won’t have to come back here any time soon.

Now don’t get me wrong, the Dodger game of baseball is fine--from the distance TV provides--Gary Sheffield’s one-hop throw to Lo Duca to nail the Giants’ potential tying run in the seventh inning an electric moment.

But spending any face time around these millionaire grumps is depressing. I liken it to being Mike Garrett’s secretary--without the coffee breaks.

You like your Dodgers? Are you telling me you find Kevin Brown and Sheffield, the team’s two biggest stars, embraceable?

Tell me you’d like your youngster to model himself after an irritable Darren Dreifort or an enigmatic Chan Ho Park. I’m sure Dave Hansen is a swell guy, I’m just not sure how many youngsters in town are wearing No. 25 to school.

I run into ushers at the stadium wearing Dodger blue and straw hats rooting for some of the prima donnas to stumble. Maybe it has something to do with arriving at the ballpark, waiting for an elevator on the ninth floor, making it as far as the eighth level only to discover Hiram Bocachica getting on, the operator required to ignore the common folks’ wishes and provide an express trip to the basement for one of the Dodgers. How appropriate.

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WE WILL all be back here on opening day, of course, excited once again with the expectation everything will have changed. No telling who will be here in uniform, but Tracy will be, and now he remains my great hope.

I could not have been any more wrong about the guy last November, and well into April, and of course, I blame Tracy for that. It’s my column. I even called the guy a “knucklehead” at one point. Hey, I didn’t call him “Dodger Boy.”

Misguided first impressions aside, as miserable as it can be to occupy the same breathing air as Brown, I’ve come to learn that it can be just as enjoyable encamped around Tracy. He’s so normal, he could live next door, if only I could convince Tom & Aida to put their home on the market. I’m telling you, I’ve tried.

Now let’s be honest here, Tracy may not always have a grip on baseball strategy like we do in the press box, and sometimes even the stories Tom & Aida tell over and over again are more interesting than what Tracy has to say. But Tracy’s people skills have been extraordinary, and I don’t know how he does it, but he even gets along with Plaschke, and I know some people find it tough to like columnists.

The thing about Tracy--he comes across like the family man you’d like to have in charge of your family-loved baseball team, and with the magic touch to keep things on track despite a long list of injuries and misfortune. A nice combination.

Now if there is any disappointment here in his job performance, it’s that his own enthusiasm and excitement at having this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to manage the Dodgers has not rubbed off on many of the players he directs.

We’re talking lifeless zombies here in some cases, and maybe that happens to people numbed by the millions they make and the pounding pressure of having to play a game for a living. But it just seems like there should be a lot more people around here having some fun--maybe even changing this notion I might have about looking forward to the end of the Dodger season--and so I’m banking on Tracy to make that happen. Spending time with Tom & Aida like I do, I need to have some fun.

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FORMER CHICAGO Bull Luc Longley has announced his retirement. No word yet on when he will announce his return.

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I HAVE a feeling the Dodgers began a working relationship with the Kintetsu Buffaloes so they could get Tom Lasorda out of town--sending him to Japan to work with that country’s worst major league team. The Dodgers’ loss, the Buffaloes’ gain.

For the first time in Japanese baseball history, a team has gone from last place one year to first the next--a feat of Olympic proportions--with Lasorda getting a 5 a.m. call Wednesday to let him know the Buffaloes had clinched the pennant.

Lasorda, who has already made seven trips to Japan this season to work with the Buffaloes, will be going back for the Japanese World Series, which means, I guess, he won’t be here for any of the Dodgers’ post-season games.

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THERE IS no denying the attraction of Carmen Electra, who was hired to sell tickets for Friday’s “Ultimate Fighting Championship” at Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas, which is now sold out. Imagine what she could do for Disney’s Ducks and Angels.

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TODAY’S LAST word comes in an e-mail from Brian:

“Just once I would like to read something of value in your column.”

There’s nothing like the thrill of anticipation.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com