Brown, Dodgers Didn’t Have a Letter-Perfect Day

Before the home opener, I noticed the Dodgers were selling envelopes at a Dodger Stadium postal stand with stamps attached, and while the stamps were canceled and considered a collector’s item, a very nice man, Pierre Bohamed, said he’d sell me one and guarantee delivery.

So I wrote Kevin Brown’s name on the front of the envelope, and added: “a.k.a. Mr. Grumpy,” because I wanted to make sure it got to the right Kevin Brown.

I also included my return address so we could begin corresponding. Inside I included a handwritten note: “Love ya, man,” and signed it, “T.J.”

*

THEN I went to the press box, ate a lot and watched my new buddy, Kevin Brown, pitch his little heart out.

He seemed to be doing really well, and gosh I was happy for him because the Dodgers really stink and he seemed to be a one-man show. He had a 3-0 lead, and then some lug, a blubbery catcher who spent half of last year in the minors, hit a homer off my pen pal to make it 3-1.

Micro-Manager Jim Tracy then yelled, “Guillermo,” and Mota came in to pitch and just like that the Diamondbacks had another run while K.B. went to the clubhouse to wait for my postgame visit.

Micro-Manager made another pitching change to start the eighth, going to the very well-known Tom Martin -- if you include his parents and relatives and high school baseball coach -- and the first batter up homered off him to tie the score and take away K.B.’s chance of winning the game. You can imagine how that made me feel.

*

OK, FAST forward to the clubhouse after yet another Dodger loss, and I’m waiting at Brown’s locker with a few other members of the media, and Mr. Grumpy walks up. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he gets my warm, heart-felt personal note, but that will probably take another day or two and I can’t ruin the surprise.

But right away I notice he’s shaking hands with someone from the media, and I know what you’re thinking, it’s surprising to find Channel 4’s Fred Roggin in the Dodger clubhouse. Brown, however, is shaking hands with a real journalist.

So I say to Mr. Grumpy, “So are we shaking hands now with reporters?”

Well, I got the same look I remember getting from the future father-in-law when I said I thought it’d be a good idea if I took the wife-to-be away for a weekend to make sure, you know, that we would be compatible.

Someone asked Mr. Grumpy a very nice question, because that’s what most reporters do so he won’t bite their heads off, and then I asked the same question another reporter in the press box asked earlier.

“So what were you tearing up in the clubhouse after the team had blown the lead?” I asked, doing a good job, I thought, not to give up Times reporter Mike DiGiovanna to Brown for asking the same question up in the press box. That’s D-i-G-i-o-v-a-n-n-a, Mr. Grumpy.

Brown glared at me and reacted like a Trappist monk, saying nothing. I wanted to make sure I reported accurately that he had taken a vow of silence and might soon be using the Dodgers’ private plane to join the monks in one of their French monasteries, so I repeated the question, and got nothing.

Times columnist Bill Plaschke then asked Brown a question, I think something to do with crying after seeing the catcher hit the homer off him -- or no, I know what it was: He wanted to know if Brown, the real gamer, would ever tell the manager to take him out of the game because he had run out of gas.

Brown said, of course he’d do that, so I asked, “Have you ever done that?”

It’s my understanding that a Trappist monk is not allowed to talk to anyone, but he answered Plaschke and only remained silent when I quizzed him. I repeated the question, and got nothing but a dumb look.

“Are these questions too tough for you?” I said, because you know I’ve had experience talking to hockey players, and I can make the questions easier if necessary.

I got nothing -- from Brown and the media dolts, who didn’t dare repeat the same question to Mr. Grumpy for fear he might also give them the evil glare.

All I know is everyone is going to feel really stupid in the next day or two when Brown opens my letter, rushes over to embrace me and I become his favorite reporter.

*

OPENING DAY observations:

The Giants’ magic number to eliminate the Dodgers from division contention is 151, and dropping by two daily, which would mean the end of the season for the Dodgers on July 3 against San Diego.

Mike Carlucci, who had been the Dodger public-address announcer since 1993, has been replaced by Eric Smith. The Dodgers apparently wanted to have someone who is familiar with working with losing teams. His last stint was with the Clippers.

Tough to tell who got a bigger hand in pregame introductions, pitcher Andy Ashby or the Dodgers’ muscle therapist.

You know that old expression he can’t hit his weight? Well, Fred McGriff has a chance -- if he goes on a diet. McGriff weighs 225 and he’s hitting .167.

The Dodgers auctioned off a five-minute telephone chat with Tom Lasorda. I asked Lasorda what he was going to say. “If they don’t pull for the Dodgers, there’s a good chance they won’t get into heaven.” Imagine bidding $200 for the chance to have Lasorda tell you “where you’re gonna go” if you don’t root for the Dodgers.

Ashby gave up the game-winner, then stood in his locker after the game and took every question from the media like a pro -- or like someone who has a lot of experience giving up game-winners.

*

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