Departing is such sweet sorrow for Lasorda

The Dodgers and Major League Baseball allowed Page 2 to sit in the dugout with No. 2 for his final days in Vero Beach.

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VERO BEACH, Fla. -- The Dodgers played their last spring training game here Monday, like most folks in California really care.

The Dodgers have been training here for 60 years, out of sight as far as Los Angeles is concerned, and who cares where they practice?

It’s just another minor league baseball stadium, a clubhouse off limits to fans, and even the players no longer stay overnight in Dodgertown, passing on nostalgia for almost $700 a week in living expenses to hang wherever they want.

Blow up the place, and I don’t think any of my neighbors will lose any sleep. Make a museum out of it, and I can still think of a thousand different places worth a visit first.

But something quite interesting did happen here Monday, as astounding as one could hope to see in this day and age of the me-first athlete, the day ending with Tom Lasorda crying.

Lasorda has been coming here for 59 years, is still one of the few who eats his meals in the cafeteria, ends his nights in the lounge telling stories of bygone days and stays in the same room they issued him more than 30 years ago.

This place means something to him, like grandma and grandpa might treasure their antique settee, but just old furniture to anyone else.

He spent a good part of early Monday driving the back fields of Dodgertown, away from the crowds, and stopping every 100 yards or so to recall this place at different times in his life. Home movies, and aren’t they exciting?

He spoke to the fans before the game, thanked them all, and went with his trademark threat to love the Dodgers or risk not going to heaven.

It was very nice, but without the players and coaches’ reacting with respect, as they have, to what it all means to Lasorda, it really would have been painful.

They could’ve been forgiven, of course, for crying foul: “Haven’t we already heard that story, Tommy?” And haven’t we all?

But when he spoke to them before the final game, they rewarded his passion with an ovation that could be heard through the closed clubhouse doors.

And when it was all over, the players leaving after a 12-10 loss to the Houston Astros, Lasorda lingered at home plate.

As he began to walk down the right-field line, every step appearing to be a chore, something almost chilling on a hot day began to take shape.

Somewhere beyond first base he looked up, and he saw it, too, Dodgers players standing in a long line, two-by-two across from each other, bats raised above their heads as if they were crossing swords in honor of a military hero.

And as he walked down the tunnel, he shook each of their hands, a bunch of kids taking it upon themselves without a call to any of their agents to honor an 80-year-old man.

A few minutes later, after making it to the clubhouse, Lasorda cried.

“A lot of amazing things have happened to me in my life,” he said. “But what those players did for me with the bats is something I’ll never forget.”

They hugged Lasorda, and lined up to have him autograph their baseball caps with date and time.

It was an interesting mixture of old and young, the team that could never get them together a year ago, and while it’s true some didn’t stay to finish the day, I noted who they were.

But I also noticed Russell Martin, the catcher who was given the day off, choosing to stay in the sun for all nine innings. If the Dodgers have a captain this season, there should be no need to count the votes.

“Now that’s a gamer,” said Bob Schaefer, the Dodgers’ bench coach, appearing before the media, his baseball cap already autographed. “He could have left a couple of innings ago.”

Who knows if Schaefer, hired to keep Joe Torre awake after helping the A’s lose 17 more games last year than they won the year before, will be a Dodgers upgrade?

But if Schaefer doesn’t set an accommodating tone, doing everything he can to give Lasorda his due as field commander, maybe the week gets away from the Dodgers.

Instead it goes perfectly, wins and losses aside as if they really matter in the spring, and much of the credit goes to Schaefer. Better enjoy it now, because that could be it.

IT ALSO goes well because of players like Rafael Furcal. Furcal has been playing a lot, all nine innings for Lasorda’s win on Sunday, and all nine again in the finale -- despite having the option to leave early.

Maybe he plays because he’s just a great competitor, or maybe because everyone wants to see Lasorda go out with a win. It doesn’t matter, he was there.

Andre Ethier went the distance, too. James Loney came off the bench to help, and there is a kinship between Lasorda and Delwyn Young that speaks so well of Young.

Emotion taking its toll, veteran pitcher Mike Myers put an arm around Lasorda as he struggled to walk off the field.

As memories go, eight years ago Lasorda stood alone in Dodger Stadium, fans cheering him for leading the USA to a gold medal in Australia, not one player moving to congratulate him -- until several uncomfortable moments had passed.

Dodgers ownership at the time, beginning with Fox and then Bob Daly, had given him the cold shoulder, banishing him to Japan, the players getting the message that Lasorda no longer mattered in the organization.

Then came the Parking Lot Attendant, and keeping in mind I’ve been sitting in the sun for four straight days, he not only embraced Lasorda, but reinstated him as a valuable Dodgers contributor.

He did something right, and how’s that for a sentence never written before? And the payoff came this week, when leaving Vero Beach meant more to one man than anyone else, but because it was Lasorda -- once again a valuable Dodgers contributor -- it meant something to so many others on the team.

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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.