June 27 , 2011, 11:13 p.m. What a way to start the week, huh? Frank McCourt, as bankrupt a man as Los Angeles has ever seen, has done it. He’s taken the Dodgers to the cliff and over, filing for bankruptcy protection, bright and early this morning, “before the seats are warm,” as Vin Scully would no doubt say. He’d say that if he weren’t as exasperated as the rest of us. He’d say it because he’s better with words than almost all of us. More importantly, he’d say it that way because he’s kinder at heart than you, and certainly I, care to be this instant. Well, I know what I’d say, and I know what you’re thinking. And I don’t care anymore, I just don’t care, so I’m not going to hold back. I’ll go right ahead and say it, using bleeps for the faint of heart. Ready? Here goes: What a bleeper! Oh, what a bleeping excuse for a human that Frank McCourt is! If he was here, in front of me now, and I wish he was, I’d say it to his face. Frank, you giant bleep of bleep! What a bleep bleep you are. Get out of my face, bleeper. Get out of all of our faces, bleeper! You bleep!! Whitey Bulger, my ass. The Feds came to L.A. over the weekend and took the wrong man back to Boston. Quite obviously. Can I get a letter to my Congressman here, please? OK, that’s it for the don’t-you-just-wish-someone-would-say-it-portion of our show. The reality is, McCourt has played his final and grandest trump card, it’s the worst thing he could possibly do, and it’s on with Major League Baseball now. Out-and-out war. But there’s no surprise here. MLB knew this might be coming and they’re prepared to the fullest. The pace is going to quicken, so look for Bud Selig and his lawyers to respond with whatever they’ve got. What we have to look forward to is a series of moves, just more legal wrangling, unfortunately. Back and forth we go until Frank comes out a loser. Excuse me; more of a loser. While McCourt’s latest maneuver is taking the fight to another level of obnoxiousness, I still believe a settlement is possible, one that would leave McCourt satisfied with his treasure and a new owner at Dodger Stadium. More on that when the time comes. The irony is, if the Dodger players could somehow be motivated to fight like Frank McCourt – they for all the right reasons and he for all the wrong ones – to fight and fight and scratch and claw and never give up no matter what, oh what a comeback story that would be. In spite of everything, here come the Dodgers – the real Dodgers – to save the day. And what an opportunity for a pre-game speech for the manager. No more Tommy Lasorda rah-rahs about the ’27 Yankees, his old Spokane Indians, or about Gibby and the Bulldog. Child’s play. “Remember the summer of 2011,” the skipper’d say. “Ten games under the morning of June 26, the mean ogre of an owner bankrupt the next, and yet the 2011 Dodgers came roaring back to win the pennant. All we’re looking at is the Phils. What do ya say, let’s go get em!” A dream? Probably, but why not entertain the thought for a moment? Anything to get your mind off of Frank McCourt this beautiful morning. So beautiful a morning, you may have noticed, the absence of the obligatory McCourt photo, which accompanies most of these stories. Nope, not this morning, Dodger fans. I’m not going to sully the day with another ugly picture like that.
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