Well, Frank McCourt is selling the Los Angeles Dodgers, and reaction to it has been somewhere similar to when Dorothy's house landed on the Wicked Witch. Fans of the Boys in Blue can look forward to have a baseball team again instead of an over-priced amusement park ride, but let's see what folks are saying about this monumental event in the history of the Dodgers.
from Dodger Thoughts:
Opening Day? Won't tomorrow feel a little like Opening Day?
The cloud that's been over the Dodgers was no ordinary cloud. Southern California or not, Dodgers fans are used to walking through some rain. But this cloud was toxic. It wasn't that Dodgers fans couldn't stay dry -- it was that they had trouble breathing.
Very poetic yet very poignant. The 'suffering' of being a Dodger fan ends with the last sight of Frank McCourt riding out of town. Obviously he couldn't have left soon enough.
In addition, don't forget the happy ancillary benefits that could come along with this... namely, the hope that a new owner might want to bring along his own general manager - one who wouldn't give Juan Rivera $4m, Juan Pierre $44m, Jason Schmidt $47m, amongst a litany of other errors.
That's pointing the finger at you Frank, if you hadn't figured that out.
Bill Plaschke didn't hold any punches in the L.A. Times Wednesday morning either:
Maybe I should recall how Frank and wife Jamie showed up as this city's newest power couple, only to allow their power struggle to tear the team apart. Maybe I should remember how Frank and Jamie preached family and community, then watched fans stand in two-inning-long concession stand lines while filling their pockets for mansions and private planes.
Take a hike, Frank. Don't let the Chavez hit you in the Ravine on the way out.
Oh Plaschke. You always know how to make me giggle with your quirky sayings....
Ramona Shelburne pointed out at ESPN LA how the power came back ot the poeple as the disenchantment with McCourt grew and grew:
This summer, in a stunning show of civic pride, Dodgers fans spoke the loudest when they said nothing at all.
They stayed away, so McCourt would go away.
Attendance fell a staggering 18 percent. Most days the park appeared half-full. There was no organizer or leader behind the movement. Somehow, millions of people all came to the same place, and spoke with the same voice. The message was clear.
A city wanted its team back.
It feels strange to be in this place, finally. This is a day that seemed like it would always come, but would never come soon enough.
Face it Dodger fans. He's outta here. You can go ahead and be happy now.
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