The blue and white blitz has officially become part of our annual pumpkin-spice seasonal transition: Halloween, fall back, Día de los Muertos, Dodgers win. There was even an Election Day thrown in the mix again this year. For a week, "Not Like Us" played on repeat, the throbbing soundtrack of the city, with a tagline so apt that the phrase was broadcast on the headsigns of the Dodger Express as the stadium shuttles blasted past the cars in dedicated LA-branded bus lanes. Damn, it was good to be back.
And who would have thought Los Angeles would get such a remarkable opportunity twice; a second chance to welcome the World Series as trial run for welcoming the world. The emergency response center was re-activated with an international mission, to "welcome visitors from across the country, Canada, and around the world to watch the World Series." Ahead of game 1, Mayor Karen Bass once again assured us that LA was ready: "We’re working to make sure the city is safe, that traffic is minimized, and that visitors and Angelenos alike are able to enjoy the many attractions, culture, food and neighborhoods that make LA an iconic international destination."
But after I registered many of the same complaints in 2024, the back-to-back wins begat back-to-back fails: very little planning for public celebration and a whole lot of leeway for police aggression. Without major adjustments, I'm not looking forward to a three-peat.
As close as many of the estimated 250,000 Dodger parade-goers could get
But who needs the Trump administration to ruin your big win when you can have your own cops do it for you? Everyone knows the best way to watch a baseball game in this town is by strolling the Silver Lake-to-Echo Park corridor of Sunset, catching each inning at a different bar. But during game 7, LAPD declared an unlawful assembly at the Douglas, the bar closest to the stadium, where the feed was cut right as the score evened up. (Don't worry: a true hero stepped up to stream the extra innings on a giant iPad.) People who were at the bar told me the reason for the shutdown was unclear, but in the end it didn't matter; everyone in the vicinity, inside or outside, eventually got tear-gassed.
Then, later that night, at the Short Stop across the street, LAPD officers on horseback — 2025 is really the year of the police horse! — were beating people for simply waiting in line to get into the bar.
At this week's police commission meeting, LAPD assistant chief Dominic Choi seemed to use this supposedly "unruly" behavior to justify the use of force: "When the Dodgers secured the championship at the end of the game, large crowds spilled onto the streets from the bars and nearby neighborhoods to celebrate." Funny, it's almost like you could look at what happened last year, figure out exactly where rabid fans want to go, and pedestrianize those streets ahead of time. There was really no excuse not to do this near the stadium; just like in 2024, the Dodgers weren't playing their final games at home. (A better question, as latimes.404 asked, is why the Dodgers won't open up the stadium for people to watch the games there during away games, as many other cities do?) Because the real danger to everyone in celebratory mode is not a wayward Tecate can, it's vehicles — and even though LAPD started implementing random soft closures up and down Sunset, the streets were not closed early enough to prevent drivers from speeding through the crowds.
Quieter moments at the Douglas on Monday as fans watched the post-parade stadium program
A city on the cusp of its megaevent era should be piloting entertainment zones, like Santa Monica has been doing with the Third Street Promenade, where screens were set up to watch the games and you could walk your drinks from bar to bar with a wristband. It doesn't need to be about drinking, per se — Santa Monica's goals for its program are as much about helping restaurants stay alive — but the point is that it's past time to expand LA's celebratory capacity to match the records of our world-champion teams. Fans who have been through literal hell over the past year have every right to watch such an emotional moment in a communal setting. And those of us without spacious living room sectionals will absolutely have to rely on projectors and parking lots and — gasp — maybe even public spaces. What we have now is painfully insufficient: official viewing parties were announced at a grand total of four LA city park locations. For the entire city.
I don't even have to consult an expert for their opinion on the safety merits of this idea. In the ultimate Dodger victory déjà vu, LA Taco's Lexis-Olivier Ray already posed the same questions to Alex Vitale, The End of Policing author and Brooklyn College sociology professor, after last year's celebrations:
Vitale said city leaders “could have created zones for people to celebrate, with some public safety infrastructure,” which could include having EMTs and community leaders on site, shutting down streets, and providing porta potties and trash clean up, among other services. Similarly to how the city facilitated the Dodger parade through downtown a couple days later.
“Did anything bad happen at the parade? No!” Vitale exclaimed.
Vitale points to cities in Europe that have implemented various kinds of “fan zones” for gatherings before and after football matches. Some of these events are ticketed, others are held in public spaces and are open to everyone.
Fan zones? You mean, like the 15 Olympics fan zones, one in each council district, put forth in the mayor's 2028 vision statement? You mean, like the fan zones that LA promises to stage as part of the World Cupnext year? Here's something you may not have heard yet: due to FIFA's extortionate demands that the host committee pay broadcast licensing fees for every viewing party, organizers still aren't sure how many World Cup fan zones LA can host. What we're likely looking at are a handful of "official" viewing parties that I'm sure will quickly fill to capacity, and tens of thousands more soccer fans who will need places to go.
In 217 days people from all over the globe are going to congregate in LA to watch extremely intense sporting matches in public. And what's the strategy to welcome the world to our "many attractions, culture, food, and neighborhoods that make LA an iconic international destination" if we're tear-gassing anyone who dares to drink a Modelo on the sidewalk?
Which plenty of fans were doing at Monday's parade, just judging by the spent cardboard cases stacked into Minecraft-like fortresses at every intersection. There were not enough trash cans, but, hey, we've got plenty of vacant tree wells to accommodate your empties. Here, too, the sidewalks were too narrow to anticipate the crowds who wanted to feel something together. Downtown's pedways and corporate plazas that usually function as quasi-public spaces were all blocked off by private security. I stood with a crowd on Hope that got a pretty decent view of the confetti cannons one block over, then all bolted for the Bunker Hill Steps adjacent to the U.S. Bank tower to try to catch the tail end at 5th and Figueroa.
Although there was one place with enough space to guarantee a glimpse of LA's winning team: the freeway overpasses. Or, for a handful of fans who bravely scurried down a slope of spiky century plants, the freeway itself. Let's just have next year's parade there?
They went right underneath us!
This year's route had been tweaked slightly to consolidate the activity along Grand Avenue — what is Grand Avenue but a double-decked freeway through the center of downtown? — and this was where to find the after party. After the parade moved through, the people reclaimed the space, lugging their strollers and coolers into the too-wide street. Vendors circled up beneath rainbow umbrellas and billowing flags; cheers accented by the sizzling of bacon-wrapped hot dogs and the icy chisels of raspados carts. I saw a couple having a little picnic on the curb, carefully unwrapping the sandwiches they packed, then cheers-ing with giant 24-ounce Pacifico cans. While we can maybe agree that a win for the Dodgers, however complicated the legacy, can be a win for LA by proxy, let's not ignore the reality: it's about the people. Successful sports franchises cannot replace good policy. Billionaire team owners: not like us. Party in the streets > private venues. LA deserves championship public spaces.
A full hour after the parade ended, blue and white confetti was still drifting down from the sky. Bless the Disney Hall maintenance worker who valiantly employed a leaf blower to keep the spiraling tissue paper at bay. A young boy scooped handfuls of the tiny rectangles into a red Solo cup to make an ephemeral moment last just a little bit longer. It was beautiful. It was peaceful.And — as the trucks grumbled in to start collecting the fencing — it was over too soon. 🔥
💙 Sammy Roth writes about another way the Dodgers are disappointing fans: by refusing to terminate their fossil fuel partnerships. Everyone should sign up for his new newsletter, Climate Colored Goggles
📬 And if you are a paid subscriber, haven't been to a recent Torched event, and would like those stickers in your possession immediately, simply reply to this newsletter with your address and I'll pop them in the mail for you
Unfortunately, the mayor's vision — which feels about 1,000 days too late — is so light on substance that it's hard to see how LA's megaevent future materializes
LA's Park Needs Assessment provides a roadmap — or perhaps a well-shaded, native-planted pathmap? — for a department that's been asked to do more and more with less
