Oh Baby, the Local Sports Scene Is Looking Quite Ugly

The daughter is now going to the bathroom every five minutes or so. She claims it’s because she’s pregnant. I say she’s finally gotten sick of her husband.

I know this, she has become more annoying. We go to a restaurant, she insists on a booth and then we all have to stand around while she tries to wiggle and slide her oversized body around to the middle of the table. We all sit down, and then she says she’s got to get up and go to the bathroom again.

Now I love my daughter, and in a proper way, of course, so I’ve never taken notice of her butt until recently because there’s no missing it now. From behind, she’s beginning to look more and more like Tom Lasorda. From the front too, now that I think about it.

Yes, there’s no question this pregnancy has been hard on me, what with the constant reminder I’ll be sleeping with a grandma in a couple months and the delicate unspoken question that just hangs there: What do you do if the baby produced by Mr. and Mrs. Bagger is really ugly?

Will we be expected to take it out in public? Do we warn people so they’re not frightened? If you saw the Bagger, you’d know what I mean. Do we tell everyone we’re just baby-sitting the neighbor’s kid -- and given their ugly dogs -- maybe people buy it?

You think of these things when you see your cute little girl looking so grotesque and bloated. It’s pretty obvious there’s going to be a baby here in another couple of months, but the way things are going these days, I’m not sure it’s the right time to bring a kid into the world.

Do you really want a baby opening its eyes to find the Lakers out of the playoffs and the Dodgers ruling Major League Baseball like this is what life is all about around here?

Do you really want a kid coming into this world, its future hopes and dreams for the Lakers resting on the makeover efforts of Uncle Mitch, while also swearing that Uncle Paul and his computer can do no wrong? If it’s the Bagger’s kid, you know it’s going to come out swearing.

The amazing way things are going, this kid could come to love Mr. Lisa, get really angry at anyone who criticizes Milton Bradley and name his imaginary friend Hee-Seop in honor of the World Series most valuable player.

I’ll do my best to set the kid straight, of course, steering it to USC and away from UCLA, while telling it all about crisis management, Kevin Malone and Kevin Brown, but what if it can’t hear me over the loud music at Dodger Stadium?

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HOW MANY kids can say they were born the year the Clippers finished with a better record than the Lakers? Is that the kind of thing you want the kid to brag about when it goes to school? I guess it’s better than having the kid tell everyone it can get them all the paper or plastic bags they need.

The world is presently upside down with the Dodgers having the best record in baseball, the Lakers falling apart, and now even the kid’s old man is sitting in first place in our fantasy baseball league.

There are strange things happening, all right, and although the kid isn’t scheduled to be here in time for the NBA Finals, if it does arrive early, it could begin life thinking Shaquille O’Neal has always been in shape and motivated.

I’m already concerned its first words will be: “Pass the ball, Kobe,” especially if it’s true that babies can hear their father yelling while in their mom’s belly. I also worry that, like Moneyball DePodesta, it will grow up thinking the red-hot Dodgers have no need anymore for a closer such as Eric Gagne.

At the very least, boy or girl, it could’ve started life innocently referring to the Angels as Los Angeles’ best baseball team, but not the way the Angels are playing. This kid could grow up thinking the Micro Manager is better at what he does than Mike Scioscia.

As it is, the McCourt generation of kids will be going to Dodger Stadium thinking it’s no big deal if you can’t see home plate from where you’re sitting. And when it comes to role models, you know kids are going to want to be just like Charley Steiner or Jack Haley.

This is the messed-up world we live in today, and although I commend the Dodgers on their extraordinarily lucky play to date, do you think it’s really a good thing for a youngster to begin life thinking his grandfather has no idea what he’s talking about when it comes to the Dodgers?

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GEORGE STEINBRENNER delivered a blistering message to the Yankees after their poor start, and they responded with 13 runs in the second inning Monday against Tampa Bay. Too bad Dr. Jerry Buss didn’t think of the same thing a few months ago.

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THE NINE rings from every Los Angeles Laker championship will be available for bidding in a Sotheby’s/SportsCards Plus auction on the Internet on June 10. The group of rings is expected to sell in excess of $100,000, and might be the only way that Chucky Atkins can get a championship ring. The proceeds from the sale will be donated to the Lakers’ Youth Foundation.

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JOE LEDERER e-mailed to suggest “The Dodger crowd wasn’t booing Luke Walton (Saturday night), it was yelling, ‘Luuuuuke.’ C’mon, T.J., you of all people should know what booing sounds like.”

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TODAY’S LAST word comes in e-mail from Gregg Guenthard:

“I read your column for the same reason people watch the gorillas at the zoo eat their own (dung) -- reveling in how stupid a member of the ape family can act. I assume you’ve never played any sports due to your reaction about the two USC players who got into a fight. To compound your obvious milk toast demeanor you publish an e-mail from (parents) complaining about the ‘Giants ... ‘ chant at Dodger Stadium. It’s obvious they were lost Quakers, who showed up at a Dodger game. This is what our world is coming to -- parents who get offended at the least little comment ... and non-athletic wannabe sports writers.”

I thought it was people who took the time to e-mail a wannabe sportswriter.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at [email protected]. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.