McCourt Likes His Dodgers’ Lot in Life

As months of catcalls became a long moment of cheers, a personal hailstorm interrupted by a strange and warm sun, the most embattled Dodger danced and soaked and basked.

Not Milton Bradley, but Frank McCourt.

Alongside the Dodger dugout late Tuesday afternoon, the owner leaped out of the newly constructed McCourt Family Field Box, which has a dozen seats, two fancy TVs and protective railings.

He pumped his fist at the field.

He pumped his fist into the stands.

He ran down the stairs and through the tunnel amid a chorus of roars usually reserved for guys with names like, you know, Arte.

“This is a good team!” McCourt shouted in the tunnel. “I’m telling you, this is a good team.”

This was certainly a good few minutes, these Dodgers coming back from a five-run sucker punch to steal their home opener from the bumbling San Francisco Giants, 9-8.

This was certainly a terrific Milton Bradley scene, last year’s villain hitting a two-out, two-strike fastball better than he ever threw a plastic bottle.

This was certainly a throwback game in a remodeled house, these April Dodgers looking like last September’s Dodgers, in different shades of Lima.

“I watched all this on TV last year, and heard all about it, but to actually experience it?” said kid outfielder Jason Repko. “Wow.”

There was, indeed, some wow.

But, on a day when Dodger fans and players settled somewhat uncomfortably into their new digs, there was also some whoa.

McCourt’s claim that this is a good team? Which, in Dodger parlance, means a championship team?

Too early to tell, especially considering that the pitching staff has a 5.00 ERA and that they have required comebacks to win three of their five games, a tightrope pace even more dangerous than last season’s.

Tuesday, however, showed that the Dodgers are many other things, some good, some bad, some Bradley.

This is a pain-in-the-butt team.

Literally. The new wooden dugout benches? They are regularly delivering splinters into the back of the players’ pants, and you can fill in your own joke.

On Tuesday, coach Glenn Hoffman, among others, felt their sting.

“I guess we could use some pads down there,” Hoffman said with a grin.

This is an obstructed-view team.

Numerous fans were furious Tuesday with reduced vision caused by the reconstruction. Most were blocked by either the wraparound ad board or the dude sitting in front of them.

A friend with seventh-row seats in the new section down the third-base line phoned me in the press box to note that she had a great view, with one exception.

She and her friends couldn’t see the, um, batter.

This is a hate-those-foul-balls team. Although experts claimed that the reduced foul territory at Dodger Stadium would not turn it into a hitter’s park, on Tuesday it turned two outs into hits.

In the first inning, Edgardo Alfonzo’s fly ball landed in a photo well, then he singled to left.

In the second inning, J.T. Snow’s fly ball landed in the huge Dodger dugout, and then he singled to right.

Only one of those hits resulted in a run, but over the course of a season, that could be plenty of runs, and the Dodgers are giving them up nearly as fast as they score them.

This is still a “team” team.

All the worries here about lousy chemistry have so far been squelched, the perfect example occurring after Bradley’s hit and the game-costing error by that over-eager kid in left field.

Whom do you think ran to the field and lifted up Bradley and carried him to the dugout?

Would you believe Jayson Werth, a guy on the disabled list?

On most teams, after a play like that, the only thing guys on the disabled list would be carrying is their plate of food from the clubhouse buffet to a table.

“Jim Tracy does a lot of that,” Bradley said. “He makes everyone in here feel important, he makes us all feel a part of things.”

Which leads us to our next observation.

This is a well-managed team.

Even those who have never been in Tracy’s corner -- and this includes some management folks -- must admit that winning five of seven games any time without Eric Gagne is good stuff.

So far this season, instead of cowering under the increased pressure, Tracy has been unafraid to bench front-office favorites Jose Valentin and Hee-Seop Choi while somehow coaxing wins from a bullpen that include guys named Houlton, Wunsch and Schmoll.

“I don’t know what it is for us, but things happen,” Bradley said.

Tracy routinely puts them in a position to make those things happen.

This is an Izzy team. What Cesar Izturis lost in his double-play partner, he gained in his biceps, his winter workout regimen turning him into muscular player with a bigger bat.

Two hits a game? Five runs batted in in a week? As long as his added strength doesn’t hamper him in the field, he could end up being the league’s best shortstop.

Dan Evans, who was at Dodger Stadium on Tuesday in his job as a Seattle Mariner consultant, deserves another bow.

This could also be a Bradley team? Not so fast. Even Bradley acknowledges that trust is something that cannot be gained in one week.

But give him credit. He’s trying. He delivered the big hit Tuesday, waved to the fans, stood in front of his locker in full uniform for nearly 30 minutes doing interviews, and asked for only one thing.

“When I do something wrong, I hear about it from everybody, and I understand that,” Bradley said. “All I’m saying is, I’d like to also hear about it when I do something right.”

Agreed.

Bradley returned to grace Tuesday with a splendid piece of skill and sportsmanship, earning every cheer, deserving every wave.

Even if fans couldn’t see it, they could hear it, and during a home opener as odd as it was invigorating, that was as good as it gets.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.