What it was like
Nothing at this ballpark beats the hour before anybody shows up. Gates open two hours ahead of first pitch and almost nobody uses them, so batting practice happens in a nearly empty stadium with the light coming across the infield at an angle you never see once the seats fill in. Players are close enough to talk to. It is the quietest the place gets all night.
There is also a particular mood when Kansas City comes in — a grudging respect for the club that took a World Series people around here still argue about.
The crowd is the real attraction anyway: Koreatown, East LA, the Valley, transplants from every other city, somehow all the way in on it together. The third-base pavilion gets loud faster than anywhere else in the park, and the Dodger Dog argument has run unresolved since 1962.
Take the transplant who has not picked a team yet. A summer night here does most of the work for you.