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Dave Roberts looks very happy to be back in Dodger blue.

Out with the old and in with the older. The brain trust of Friedman & Zaidi have eliminated our manager, brought back a long-ago Dodger to take his place, and let slip away one of only two reasons to go to the stadium last year: the ace with no filter, Mr. Zack Greinke. (I have to admit I had really warmed to his odd, uncensored honesty.)

I always liked Dave Roberts, the new manager, when he played center field for us. I’m very willing to give him a chance to prove himself as the leader of a ragtag group of mediocre arms (save Clayton Kershaw, of course), a patchwork infield, and an outfield plagued with a case of the Puig.

When April rolls around, I’ll be in my Top Deck aerie taking score and whistling like a mad woman whether the team goes all the way or fizzles like a wet firecracker, the latter scenario seeming more likely this year. (Once again, it looks like DirecTV won’t be hosting the games, so most of L.A. will be blissfully unaware anyway.)

As a Geico ad might say, “If you’re Pamela Wilson, you cheer for the Dodgers. It’s what you do.”

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