L.A.’s Best-Kept Secret

Monday night, I took my friend Jenni to her first Major League Baseball game. Jenni grew up in Long Island, in a Mets household, but never made it to Shea. (Although, if she had a dime for every time someone “promised” to take her to a game … ) That needed to change! And with the help of my friend Lacy, who works in ticket sales for the Dodgers, it did.

The Mets (my favorite team since jumping on the bandwagon in elementary school) came to town for a three-game series and Jenni and I went to Game One. Despite Jose Reyes being injured (I promised Jenni some base-stealing action) and the Mets forgetting to show up and a Little League team replacing them for the evening (Five errors and Ryan Church misses third base before scoring the go-ahead run?!? Now I feel bad for insulting Little Leaguers.), we had a blast … for 11 innings.

Now, back to what I was referring to in the title of this posting—our seats! Dodger Stadium opened in 1962 and is one of the oldest—and I think, most awesome—stadiums in the country. I’ve said this before, but it has baseball, sunshine and palm trees. I mean, come on! Last year, they upgraded the seating section along the baselines and added a few hundred private box seats. There are four seats in each box, and they are literally at field level. (They also have a table to sit your food/beers on, and a foot rest. Baseball heaven.) I bet a lot of deals are brokered in those seats. And I’m sure more than a few folks have used those seats to impress a date. “Seats behind home plate? Nah. I’ve got something better.”



Monday night, we sat in the second row. (I took my friend Monica to Tuesday night’s game and we sat even closer!) You feel like you could reach out and touch David Wright. (And who wouldn’t want to do that?) You also have to pay attention not to get caught up in a deep conversation because foul balls are aplenty. The seats are just fantastic and so much fun. It’s like social hour with a baseball game on the side. Which is a nice distraction when your team makes five errors and a runner misses third base. (Sorry, last time, I swear.) There is a ton of cross-box activity, which is much more PG than it sounds, and everyone we met was super friendly.

It doesn’t hurt to have a friend in ticket sales. Especially now, when the ballpark is rather empty each night. They need somebody to fill the seats. Might as well be a couple of Mets fans. Although, I must be honest, when the Mets aren’t in town, I am a newly enlisted member of Dodgers nation. Hey, their bandwagon could use some folks climbing on board at the moment.



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Speaking of well-kept (but not for long!) secrets … Wednesday night, I went to a show at the Roxy. My friend is doing publicity for a new artist named Zee Avi. She is just fantastic, and her story is even more so. She is from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and was discovered less than a year ago on YouTube by Raconteurs drummer Patrick Keeler, who brought her to the attention of the band’s uber-manager, Ian Montone. Six months later, she was living in the States and performing across the country.

Zee plays guitar, ukulele and banjo and has a smooth, old-fashioned sound sort of like a sweeter Ella Fitzgerald. She was signed to Brushfire Records, Jack Johnson’s label, and fits in so perfectly. One of her songs was recently featured on an episode of Private Practice (At Wednesday night’s show, she dedicated the song, “to Dr. Addison Shepherd, wherever she may be.”) and she is going on her first solo tour this summer. Loved her!

Now I sound like her publicist!

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