I was born in Chicago but I don’t like the White Sox or the Cubs. You know why? F*ck you, that’s why. I also live in New England part of the year but I am not a Red Sox fan. Two reasons. First, they are no longer the Jews of baseball. Second, their fans are assholes.

I mostly live in Los Angeles now. I write a TV show. I rewrite everyone else’s movies. I play with my kids. I study Brazilian ju-jitsu. But I save my true passion for two things. Judaism and the Dodgers.

You know why the Dodgers? Because they’re from Brooklyn. Because of Branch Rickey and Jackie F*cking Robinson. Because of Ron Cey and Davey Lopes and Bill Russell and Steve Garvey. Because of Fernando Valenzuela. Because of Walter Alston. Because of Sandy Amoros and Roy Campanella and Johnny Podres. Because Sandy Koufax, the toughest G-d damned Jew in baseball history, played for the Dodgers.

We’ll win the division. Make no f*cking mistake about it. It’s not that hard to do. San Francisco is an ongoing joke. Arizona is even funnier. Colorado: kiss my leathery ass. The only real bump in the road is San Diego but let me tell you something: they’ll be done by August. If you think that lineup is constructed to last an entire season you’re dumber than Kaw-Liga. We’re clearly the only team with any guts. Certainly the only one with any cojones. So that’s settled.

Let’s look at the lineup. We’re not like some of those other teams with big names everywhere. All that bullsh*t. We need that like we need another *sshole and we already have Tommy Lasorda. I guess Nomar used to be a big name but now he’s just another guy. A blue-collar guy. With a beautiful and accomplished wife and the best name in baseball history. Great actor too. He and his groin will blossom because they’re both finally free of those meat-grinders out in Boston and Chicago.

And yeah, Jeff Kent is a well-known name. But he’s universally hated. That’s why you have to love the guy. He is who he is in all his cranky white-trash American glory. He hates everything and everyone and he’s a selfish bastard and his mustache makes him look like the jerk he is. But there’s nothing fake about him. If you can’t admire that then you’re probably Noam Chomsky or some other variety of pussified wuss.

We have one grand old man of baseball out in left. Luis Gonzalez is the nicest guy in baseball. He also looks a lot like the great American songwriter Jonathan Richman. Juan Pierre has also gained renown because he is fast and smooth like all Cajuns. He’s not as great as some people think he is. But he’s a lot better than most of your average stats nerds will maintain. Two reasons for this. One, Dodger Stadium has a really massive center field. He will protect it like Dennis Haysbert protects the U.S.A. in my hit show “The Unit.” Two, this is the year that OBP is revealed to be the biggest fraud since Hamas. Good luck if you think he’s stealing any fewer than 70 f*cking bases.

And don’t get me started about Derek Lowe. The guy has been torn down by more women than posters at Wellesley advertising an Andrew “Dice” Clay concert. When you’ve got a big heart people want to eat it. That’s the way of the world. Derek Lowe knows that now. We all know that now. It should be a mandatory tattoo for anyone with a scrotum. Also for lesbians. He’ll put that in his pitching and come back stronger than ever.

But if you’re looking for any other big names in the lineup you might as well be looking for your own anus in a darkened crawlspace with no mirrors in it. These are all guys who have been flying under the radar. Coming up through the farm system. Paying for their own corn nuts at truck stops at 2 a.m. Smelling each other’s farts and sharing each other’s porn. Russell Martin. Andre Ethier. Takashi Saito. Randy Wolf. Brad Penny. Wilson Betemit. Jonathan Broxton. These are not pampered superstars. These are normal guys. Good guys. American guys. The trendy Hollywood hypocrite fans never appreciate players like this. But the regular fans understand. Even Jason Schmidt is going to be hungry and lean after crapping the bed for the Rice-a-Ronis last season. He is already my wife’s favorite Dodger. And if Rebecca Pidgeon says you’re okay then you’re f*ckin-A okay in my book.

Winning the playoffs will be a bit harder. Here’s our problem: our strengths are also our weaknesses. Fortunately that is everyone else’s problem too. We also have a secret weapon. Grady Little is searching for redemption. He’s been a great manager and a great baseball guy. Built a great team out in Beantown. But one little mistake with Pedro Martinez and everyone stabbed him in the back. Then Francona comes along and wins the World Series and suddenly nothing Grady did means sht anymore. He gave them the best years of his life and they put him out with the trash. That’s what America has become. Second place is fck you.

Well here in L.A. we recycle. We recycle big and we recycle hard. We’ll take your castoffs, your rejects, your Grady Littles and your Nomar Garciaparras and your Juan Pierres and your wretched refuse and your teeming masses. We’ll throw ’em all in Chavez Ravine and come up with something new. Something beautiful. Something awesome. So go ahead and pick whoever you want. Chase that trend. Take a flyer on the D-bags. But you’ll end up in second place.

Enjoy your f*cking steak knives.

If you don’t know who David Mamet is, f*ck you.