Los Angeles Dodgers: Mom for owner

Years ago, when I was in the newspaper business, I wrote a column recommending my mother be selected as the next commissioner of baseball. This was in the 1980s and with the 20-20 vision accorded us by the passing of time it is clear that mom would have done a better job than the parade of yes men who have held that job since then.

Well, a new job is opening up and baseball had better listen this time: The commissioner, the guy who now holds the job mom should have, needs to name my mother as the managing owner of the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Mom was an elementary school teacher for 30 years. She taught second grade all that time, giving her excellent training for dealing with the players, the players union, the media and the other owners. Heck, all those years of playground duty qualify her to be named to the United States Supreme Court.

Understand this: Mother loves baseball. She understands the infield fly rule. She knows the difference between the run-and-hit and the hit-and-run, but her favorite play is the squeeze bunt.

Mom had the most disciplined classroom in the history of organized education. If a pin dropped, you could hear it apologize for making a sound. Mom didn’t (and still doesn’t) tolerate exhibitions of disrespect. She was named Teacher of the Year in her area of the Los Angeles Unified School District one year and I thought they should have retired the award.

Mom would bring something to the Dodgers that the franchise has lacked for a while now. She’d be an owner with unquestionable integrity and loyalty to the ballclub. She’s been a Dodgers fan since they were in Brooklyn. She'd also bring a forward-looking emphasis on product quality to ownership, something the Dodgers haven’t had since the O’Malleys ran things.

I can just see some rookie throwing a fit after looking at a called third strike. The umpire would toss the kid out of the game and the National League would fine him. And then mom would bring the youngster into her office so she could hear his side of things. The kid would finish with, “So I did what I had to do.”

And it would get quiet in that office for a while. Then mom would say, “This is Major League Baseball. We don’t throw our shoes into the grandstand. We’re sending you down to Spokane for some seasoning. While you’re there, you’ll send a letter of apology to the fan whose hot dog was squashed when you threw your batting helmet. You’ll also attend Mrs. Larson’s School of Etiquette in Spokane so you will not act like such a fool in public anymore. While you’re up there, I hope you’ll learn to throw to the cutoff man, too.”

Eventually, under mom’s guidance, the Dodgers’ franchise would return to respectability. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Thanks for reading and Happy Mother’s Day!