Hauling Like A Brooligan

Stephen Gallagher

The Dodgers, Christian Slater, and Me

On Sunday I went to my first-ever ball game. The Dodgers vs the Chicago Cubs. Christian Slater was the day’s celebrity first-ball pitcher, and he’d invited the cast and crew of The Forgotten to attend the game as his guests.

I dithered a bit, I admit… I’m not really a sports event kinda guy. But I’m so glad I went – it made a good break from deadlines and I had a really good time. I still know bugger-all about baseball and didn’t even watch that much of the action, but the stadium atmosphere was great. Loads of kids and families and just a big, big buzz. It’s like the game is just something to hang it on. Christian had bought VIP seats behind third base for all – we weren’t all sitting together but nobody stays in one place for any length of time anyway. After I’d bought my Super Dodger Dog (all beef) I discovered that my ticket included complimentary food in the VIP suite.

I’d set out early thinking that traffic and parking would be a problem but the traffic was light and the parking lot so enormous that I just sailed in ahead of the crowds… though the rows weren’t numbered by any system that I could make out, so I made myself a map as I went to be sure I’d be able to find the car again. Amongst all the stuff they put on the big TV before the game, they played trailers for the show.

The VIP boxes were right down at ground level and out in the brutal sunshine (I’d remembered to slap on the sunblock before I set out), so when I felt I’d endured being a VIP for long enough I went up to the middle of the tier to watch from the back in the shade, and from there on bumped into various co-workers including all our cast. I was sitting having a beer and catching up on stuff with with one of our executive producers, and I swear Adam Baldwin walked past.

The Dodgers lost the game. But they’d beaten the Cubs in the other games in the series during the week, so they still came out the overall winners. I left before the end to get out ahead of the traffic, and again got away with no problems. Drove back along Sunset Boulevard and through Beverly Hills. Flopped on the bed for an hour to sleep off the sun and the super dodger dog and to reset the brain for some work.

And hey. I’m a Dodgers fan now. I’ve got a hat to prove it.

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2 responses to “The Dodgers, Christian Slater, and Me”

  1. Ah, you wouldn’t have gotten that with Rupert Penry-Jones. Croquet at the Barnsdale House, maybe. Good job the traffic was light getting there and you didn’t have to resort to Larry David’s method of getting to Elysian Park.

    Wear your Dodger hat with pride but beware where you wear it. One time up in San Francisco I went out wearing a NY Yankees cap and walking down Mission some guy started seriously yelling at me for not sporting a Giants hat. All the suits coming out to grab lunch started looking in my direction as I picked up my pace. Just am I’m thinking it was all going to go pear-shaped and I was about to turn into Miles Bennell (or in this locale, Matthew Bennell), a woman walking by said, “Don’t worry about him, he’s mad!” Still, they do so take their sports seriously out there.

    Hope all is going well with The Forgotten. It’s now just four weeks to go, isn’t it? Without breaking confidences, what’s the reaction to NBC giving up on drama and handing the 10pm spot over to Jay Leno, five nights a week? For viewers it’s a pisser that there’ll be less new drama to watch, but on your side of the fence does less competition make it less stressful?

  2. It's that part of the pre-season where the words 'less' and 'stressful' are never seen together unless preceded by the word 'no'…

    I seem to recall an open letter of protest signed by a large number of showrunners when the announcement was first made. The initial impact will be on pilot season because the number of primtetime drama slots is finite and now there are five less of them. And since NBC now isn't buying any 10pm material at all, all the darker shows will be fighting harder to get in elsewhere.