Dodger Boy Finds a New Way to Wheel and Deal

The wife tells me the other night we’re going to stay home and watch “Beauty and the Geek 2,” and I tell her Kevin Malone has invited me to join him for the opening of a car dealership two hours away and I just have to go.

Let me tell you, you can’t make up something like that.

You remember, Dodger Boy.

Before there was the Boston Parking Lot Attendant, the Screaming Meanie, DePodesta and Evans, there was a new Sheriff in town.

At the time, I pounded the guy on Page 2 with regularity, reported a shouting match between Dodger Boy and a fan in San Diego, and a couple of days later Malone was fired as the team’s general manager.

Malone called a news conference, and accompanied by two attorneys, he displayed huge replicas of The Times’ sports pages and condemned the newspaper for its coverage. He then took his charges to HBO’s “Real Sports With Bryant Gumbel,” and now five years later I was receiving an invitation to join him in the middle of nowhere with his business partner, Eddie Murray.

I notified my next of kin, said my goodbyes and told the wife there was no reason to TiVo “Beauty and the Geek 2.”

When I arrived at the grand opening of

Mercedes-Benz of Valencia in Santa Clarita, I noticed the place was decorated in Raider colors, another reminder I didn’t belong. Malone, meanwhile, was talking to the crowd, and obviously Murray wasn’t.

Washington Manager Frank Robinson was in attendance, and although we had sparred earlier at an Angel game, I went over to shake his hand, only to watch with amusement as he plastered his hands to his side -- much like my granddaughter, shaking his head from side to side, as if to say, “No, no.” In fact, now that I think about it, the resemblance to the baby was remarkable.

I couldn’t wait to get home to tell the wife Robinson wouldn’t shake my hand, but Malone would.

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AND HE did. Dodger Boy also gave me a very nice large, heavy, gold pen, while introducing me to a friend who works in the Secret Service.

I asked Malone’s Secret Service pal if he had put the pen through an X-ray machine to make sure it wasn’t an explosive device, and he thought I was kidding.

Leonard Sage, who owns the dealership with Murray and Malone, was also passing out gifts. He offered me a miniature Babe Ruth talking doll just like the Tom Lasorda ones given to Dodger fans last season.

“If they have a miniature Murray doll,” I said, “I’ll bet it doesn’t say anything.”

That’s when we were joined by Murray, the Dodgers’ new hitting coach, Malone making sure he told him that I was the guy who drove Malone out of town.

“You’re next,” I told Murray, and I think I can report now with a great deal of first-hand experience that Murray lacks a sense of humor.

As soon as Murray left, and it didn’t take long, Malone called over Kenny Lofton, a new Dodger, and told him I was the guy who had run him out of town.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked Lofton. “Because you’re next.”

I think I can report now with a great deal of first-hand experience that Lofton lacks a sense of humor.

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I NOTICED the walls in the showroom were decorated with lots of Murray memorabilia but nothing from Malone.

I suggested Malone ought to hang up copies of the contracts he did with Carlos Perez, Darren Dreifort and Kevin Brown, reminding customers he had no problem giving everything away while working with the Dodgers, so where else are you going to get a better deal?

“You’ll have folks thinking they might get free plane rides for their families thrown in with every deal,” I said, and Malone laughed.

Who knew Malone had a sense of humor?

“You know, it was a blessing what happened to me,” said Malone, who has traveled extensively to Third World countries since leaving the Dodgers in 2001, passing out supplies and talking about his faith. “I didn’t get to finish what I started with the Dodgers, but I believe with all my heart that God had other plans for me.”

Surrounded by Murray, Robinson and Lofton, it wouldn’t have taken much to come off as the friendliest man in the room, but without a doubt that’s what Malone appeared to be, a long line of admirers lining up to wish him well.

He broke away for a moment to proudly introduce his daughter, Shannon, and his son, Shawn, “named after Shawn Green,” he said, and I wasn’t surprised to learn the kid’s name wasn’t Carlos or Darren.

He said he has followed the Dodgers, calling the hiring of Ned Colletti the best move Frank McCourt has made, and then proving he still hasn’t lost the knack for being wrong, he said, “I think the Dodgers are the team to beat in the NL West.”

He said, “We should get together and play some golf,” and I told him, “I’m still not sure yet I want be around you with a club in your hands,” and he laughed.

“Listen, I’m a perfectionist and tougher on myself than anyone, although that’s hard to believe [for anyone who reads Page 2],” Malone said with a chuckle. “I was humbled by the opportunity to be the Dodgers’ GM, and broken and humbled by not being successful.

“It was the first time I had ever experienced failure in my life, but I think it changed me and made me better for the experience,” while adding with a chuckle, “Now all I need is a different nickname than Dodger Boy -- to indicate the change in my life.”

Too bad Mr. Chuckles is taken.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.