Readers, I bring you another entry from our resident Dodger fan, Chris Yamaoka Esq.  As always, it’s a gem, so I hope you enjoy it. I’m sure you will.

Manny’s back, and we couldn’t be happier.

That’s how I ended my last Manny-themed post, all of four months ago, back in those heady, innocent, loosey-goosey days. Four months ago. Or maybe more meaningfully, about two months and 50 days ago.

I’m tempted to write: “and it was a long 50 days.” But it wasn’t. The Dodgers have been playing great baseball, the Lakers won an NBA championship, and I’ve been able to avoid reading most of what I’m sure was generally sanctimonious, high-horse commentary and analysis. Yes, avoidance. That’s been my primary coping mechanism. And Vin Scully helped. A lot actually. I could turn on a game and Vinny would be telling some story about the other team’s second baseman’s offseason ranch, and things would feel just fine.

But like any fan — at least any irrationally obsessive and overly-analytical fan — I haven’t been able to avoid thinking about it entirely. This steroids thing is obviously nothing new. It’s not even anything new for Dodger fans. I have a Mitchell Report t-shirt (Lo Duca) and a Mitchell Report autograph (Gagne). But this is the first time it’s hit a current player — and at the peak of our euphoric love for him, no less. This is the first time it’s been headline news, and the first time it’s directly affected the team. And so, this is the first time I’ve thought about this steroids thing from this perspective. I spent years chanting “ste-roids!” at Barry Bonds; I reveled in Selena Roberts’ great schadenfreudian gift to the world; I would’ve hated on Manny so much if the story had broken while he was in Boston — what now? What now that it’s a guy in blue?

Well, to answer a question I’ve been asked more than once, I’m not going to boo him. And yes, I’m going to cheer for him. That realization has forced me to two conclusions. First, no fan should be getting on a my-team-is-cleaner-than-yours high horse anymore. Back when Barry was hitting an unreasonable number of balls into McCovey Cove, I was fond of saying, “yeah well, at least we’re not cheating.” (I was also fond of wishing that someone would slip some HGH into Shawn Green’s milk. Because even in an everyone’s-a-suspect era, I’m willing to bet that milk was the most performance enhancing substance that guy ever ingested.) Point is though, I can no longer question how Giants fans could get themselves to root for Barry. Or actually, I can, but only because he seems like such an unlikeable jerk, not because of the cream and the clear.

But more significantly, I’ve realized that if we’re serious about wanting a clean game, and most of us probably are, then there’s a price we have to pay as fans, too. Some of the stuff that we loved, some of what had us on our feet, screaming with real excitement and joy — some of that was the product of what we’re now so eager to villify. I’ve been going to Dodger Stadium my whole life, and some of the best moments I’ve ever had there were in those first few seconds of “Welcome to the Jungle” during Eric Gagne’s reign as the best closer on earth. As soon as the 8th ended, we’d start craning our heads towards the bullpen. The gate would swing open and from the first note of that echoing opening riff, the whole place was on fire. But if the guy who ran onto the field was taking steroids, and I say I want the game to be free of all that, then I have to be willing to give up some of the glow of that memory.

And yet, even if some of the luster is gone, I am going to cheer for Manny. And to be honest, I’m not going to feel guilty about it. As long as he still works like crazy, has fun with the fans, and makes the games more fun to watch, I think he still deserves our support. And I don’t think, as has been suggested, that Mets fans have a moral obligation to boo him this weekend because he hasn’t taken what he did seriously. I’m willing to bet that he — someone with such a transparent desire to be liked — was wrecked by it. His legacy is tainted forever. And that’s the other thing you realize when it happens to one of your own: these guys are being punished. As hard as it is to have sympathy for famous millionaires who play a game for a living, as easy as it was for me to enjoy every moment of A-Rod’s awkward, baby blue confession, these players are being punished in a very real way. Mark McGwire has essentially gone into hiding. Sosa, Palmeiro, cheaters, yes. But villains? I’m not so sure.

On the day the story first broke, Vinny started the broadcast like this:

“Hi, everybody, and a very pleasant Thursday evening to you, wherever you may be. The Dodgers and the city of Los Angeles and all of California and for that matter, all of baseball, still shocked and stunned over the suspension of Manny Ramirez. We’ll have more to say about that a little bit later on — but no one man stops baseball . . .”

I don’t intend to say that cheaters don’t deserve punishment; they absolutely do. But how do we move on from there? The only thing I can think of is to get back to watching baseball, the way we always do. For me, that means cheering for the Dodgers — all of them. And I fully expect Mets fans to boo Manny. Booing the other team is part of watching sports, and when you have extra ammunition? Why not? I just don’t think there’s any need to Boo In Order To Express Appropriate Moral Indignation. I think you can just boo the guy because it’s fun and it’s part of how you enjoy baseball. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the game. Cheer your team; boo the other. Save the overthinking for a blog post.