At Halftime, Dorrell Goes to the No-Name Defense

It wasn’t enough that he wanted to make a name for himself and finally be known as Karl Dorrell, but Saturday night in the Rose Bowl he took it a step further and tried to do a Pete Carroll imitation.

Like the Trojans -- and it’s hard to imagine writing the Bruins are anything like the Trojans -- they did fall behind early on, and went to the locker room at halftime in need of a stirring pep talk and a plan to rally.

The Trojans, of course, like to give the opposition a head start -- kind of like a father giving his young son four games, and then beating him, 6-4, in a set of tennis.

But asking for a pick-me-up halftime speech is putting a lot of pressure on Karl Dullard -- just two weeks into being known now as Karl Dorrell.

I can only imagine the name-calling if UCLA, more than a three-touchdown favorite, had lost to Washington, which loses to just about everyone.

A devastating, shocking loss to Washington would be one more reminder of the Bruins’ inconsistent play and Karl what’s-his-name’s penchant for just not getting it right -- losing to Washington State at home last year, losing to Fresno State in a bowl game, losing to Wyoming in a bowl game -- wiping out every baby step of progress.

The Bruins whupped Oklahoma two weeks ago, then had a bye; there was already talk USC had another tough game on its schedule. It was up to Karl what’s-his-name to keep his charges focused, and consistent.

Maybe he didn’t get that across before the game, but he had halftime ... and the chance to pull a Carroll.

I never had a doubt, of course.

*

There seemed to be general agreement in the e-mail I received, a sample here from those who follow the Dodgers:

William Neder: “Hey, Page 2, just read the yawner about the Screaming Meanie. You did lunch with her and that’s all you came up with?”

Anthony Rocha: “How in the world can you interview [Mrs.] McCourt for lunch and only walk off with that information? Terrible. If she would not give it up, then your story should have been about her refusal to give it up.”

John Brainin: “203 days? Is that all you got? Lame. Maybe you should’ve gone off the record, huh?”

*

WHEN I hear so many Dodger followers respond in unison, I take note, because as you know, Dodger fans are really on top of things these days.

They bought 3.6 million tickets this season, second most in club history, so they could get a closer look at the no-names with no names on the backs of their jerseys who went belly up in the worst division in baseball.

Obviously they know entertainment when they see it, and so they hit the 2-million mark faster than at any other time in Dodger Stadium history. And kept on coming, prompting Brad Penny to remark, “Do you believe those fans?”

Yes, it was a marvelous show of support for Frank and Jamie McCourt, who know now they do not need to have a $100-million payroll to pack Dodger Stadium.

It was also a strong endorsement for Paul DePodesta’s computer plan for success, paying customers turning out in droves to watch Jayson Werth and Co. whiff, and taking it all into consideration, you’d have to say it speaks volumes about what Dodger fans know about sports.

*

IT’S FASCINATING, though, to figure out what these people must be thinking.

They paid for parking, tickets and concessions -- from the food stands not shut down by the health department because of vermin infestation -- and in return they got some of the worst baseball played here in years.

Shortly after the last game in Dodger Stadium, which had them finishing with a losing record at home, the fans stayed to shake hands with some of the worst baseball players to ever play here.

They are a hard bunch to figure, which brings me to lunch with the Screaming Meanie in an upscale downtown restaurant the other day. Just what were Dodger fans expecting? The Screaming Meanie to throw a tantrum, punch or drink at Page 2? Were they expecting Page 2 to treat her like a hockey player or Bengie Molasses?

Apparently it wasn’t enough to learn she’s dull.

Or else has nothing of value to say, or any particular insights. I’ll probably never know why she bought two homes in Holmby Hills, but if she can’t answer the easy questions, what are the chances of getting an answer on the tough ones?

I told her the McCourts spin every answer with the intent of appeasing the fans, like her husband conveniently discovering that character counts after Milton Bradley went haywire again, and criticized her for hiding from Page 2.

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “Yes, you did,” I said. “No, I didn’t,” she said, and now I think I know why the McCourts own two homes.

At the very least consider my disappointment, waiting 203 days for a return call, and then sitting through an hour-and-a-half lunch only to discover I had it good for 203 days.

Could I have been tougher on her, tougher than being married to the Boston Parking Lot Attendant? I quoted her saying she thinks the good people of Los Angeles believe the McCourts do indeed have money and will use it to improve the team, letting her own words make her sound foolish.

But now I realize I’m dealing with fans who flocked to Dodger Stadium this season. Hard to suggest someone is clueless, and expect the clueless to pick up on it.