LOS ANGELES — It should be Dodger Purple by now. The bruises have accumulated for decades.
Mike Piazza got traded. Fox, and then Frank McCourt, bought a golden franchise and used it to scrape dirt off their shoes. The McCourt Divorce chased RBIs and strikeouts off the sports page. The intricate strategy of getting in and out of Dodger Stadium, inspired by Dunkirk, has gotten no easier. Inside, the $14 beer is now offered without remorse. The stadium itself has become a hyperactive migraine machine. It squelches all hopes of conversation.
And now that the Dodgers have become a tornado-spewing earthquake of winning, they still are invisible for a majority of the TV viewers.