Gomez the god

by Mark D. Loweree

The story of the 1988 Los Angeles Dodgers is one of the great stories in the history of major league baseball, culminating with the World Series heroics of Kirk Gibson. On the surface, the success of those Dodgers is attributable to Gibson, Orel Hersheiser, Tommy Lasorda, and a host of other players who, in ways large and small, contributed to achieving the ultimate prize. But there is a back story—maybe even the real story—that until now has been unknown to all but a handful of local citizens. It is spring, and as the new season mixes memory and desire, in the little Hispanic community of El Sereno—less than 10 miles from Dodger Stadium—a mysterious old man arrives. He calls himself Gómez, but in another place and time, others added an epithet: Gómez the god. In this unlikely place, amongst ordinary people, something unusual is happening, the consequences of which will extend to a magical night in October, when, on that hallowed hill above Chavez Ravine, the impossible happened. “I met Gómez on the day we buried our father.” So the story begins, and with ten simple words it is evident that Gómez the god is more than a good book. With the really good ones you know right away.