I have, like, 50 industrial-sized barrels full of Frank McCourt ire sitting in my basement, so don’t you worry at all about me running out any time soon. But I just real Bill Plaschke’s latest column about how McCourt has had little or no contact with the season ticket holders over the years, and I’ve decided that I’m really not going to dig deep into my ire stash for them:
I’m sure P.R. professionals would say that someone at the Dodgers should have constant communications with season ticket holders, but I really have to classify “not receiving emails full of bloodless, cheerleading corporate-speak” as a particularly unimportant brand of first world problems. And what purpose would it serve anyway? Is this the conversation that will ensue?
“Look, honey, Mr. McCourt says here that the bankruptcy was the fault of Major League Baseball and that he fully intends to prevail and lead the Dodgers into a bright future! Those liars at the Los Angeles Times had him all wrong! Let’s re-up our club seats for another five years!”