How the Dodgers are hurting the “little guy”

In part 3 of our 4-part series on the current state of the Dodgers, we examine how the lack of fans at the game is hurting the people who work in and around the stadium.

It was sad.

An empty stadium and too many vendors. Men and women walking around in 95 degree heat with ice chests slung over their backs having to walk a lot farther than usual to lighten their load. During the second inning, fans in one section saw the frozen lemonade guy go past them from section to section, covering 2-3 whole sections before he got a buyer. Instead of walking up and down the aisles, this vendor got smart and simply walked down one of the many empty rows.

In the third inning, still with plenty of inventory, the same vendor walked past the other way, hawking his sweet and sour refreshment. Such has life become in what used to be called the happiest place on earth.

Now it just seems like another place.

In just a few seasons, Frank McCourt has done the unthinkable. For many Dodgers fans, he has turned Dodger Stadium into a place filled with negative emotions. Had he truly tried, McCourt couldn’t do what he has done to slander the Dodgers’ reputation and name. From actual parking issues in the parking lot to security issues throughout the stadium, to the well-documented tumult throughout the organization, the confidence of Dodgers fans has slowly eroded like a tooth that only starts to hurt when a root canal is needed.

And the fans’  bad experience has to be affecting workers and other people who depend on Dodger Stadium for their livelihoods.

On a Saturday afternoon game in the heat of the pennant race on Saturday, the California Pizza Kitchen snack bar was closed on the Loge Level. Without enough people at the game, CPK and the Dodgers seem to have thrown in the towel.

For the first time maybe ever, there were no lines at the concession stands when I got a pregame Dodger Dog. My guess is that the “Save the Dodgers” rally before the game had something to do with that. And, not to be outdone (as Bill Plaschke describes), apparently concession lines were adjusted back to normal as long lines returned for today’s mid-week game vs. the Padres.

But what happens to all those people who would be manning the concessions just enough to keep my head from exploding from waiting in line? Do they just not work now? In an economy that’s already pretty bad, I feel for these Angelinos who are missing work. Sometimes, for things to get better, there has to be some pain.

What about ticket salesmen? Having taken a group of 15 or more to a game during each of the past 2 seasons, I got a call from one this year. I described to him my reasoning and told him to give me a call when the organization stabilizes and proves it can spend money on being a serious World Series contender. I haven’t heard back from him. I also described to him that the game I went to featured Felix Hernandez for the Mariners vs. Eric Milton for the Dodgers and we all know how that turned out. During that game, I actually texted the number they showed on the screen and, while I don’t blame him for the Dodgers’ trouble, I did turn Eric Milton in for disrupting my fan experience.

But I don’t want to digress. The main inspiration for this semi-rant was a scalper. On my way into the stadium on Saturday, walking up Elysian Park Ave., a man asked me if I needed a ticket. When I told him I was good, he replied with a four letter word that had an exclamation point at the end. Being a family site, it’s the one that rhymes with “McCourt is out of luck.”

As I continued on, I was a little sad. Dodger Stadium was always a happy place for me. Every game I’ve gone to since I was a kid involved a 3 1/2 hour drive from San Luis Obispo County. When we drove into the parking lot (from the Stadium Way entrance off the 110), the right field scoreboard was a huge and wonderful sight. The grand cathedral that is Dodger Stadium was poised to house all the happiness a young baseball fan could hope for. Much of the time, games were ventured to on somewhat of a whim and, in these cases, scalpers were often involved. They always seemed like happy sheisters to me — putting a smile on to make a buck from my dad, who always seemed to be able to talk them down from the exhorbitant prices they were asking for.

Again, I digress. The scalper on the sidewalk didn’t have a smile on his face. If he’s been around long enough, the man is probably used to actually selling his ticket to a weekend game.

As I walked into the emptiness that Dodger Stadium has become, I reflected on the scalper who dropped the F-Bomb. Where there used to be so many, I only saw one. What happened to the other guys? They didn’t seem like guys who had other jobs.

I don’t have all the answers to the questions about what has happened to these people. Maybe someone in Los Angeles can find out for us. The point is that due to the lack of people at the games, jobs have probably been lost, and even Dodgers fans who are boycotting the team have to feel for these people.

On the way out of the stadium, I saw the same gentleman directing traffic in the crosswalk as had been there on the way in. At least he still has a job, though with so few people at the game, one wonders how long that will last.

Dodger Stadium could once again be great. When McCourt goes away, fans will come back.

In the mean time, and though they seem to be using an interesting “volume reduction” strategy to solve the issue,  it’s nice to see that it only took the Dodgers 5 years to get the parking situation straightened out.

Visit fansmanship.com tomorrow for the finale to our four-part series on the state of the Dodgers: “Where do they go from here.”