The Dark Side of Blue
– by Mario Cresibene
Now that the Yankees have been eliminated from the playoffs, baseball needs a new villain. In the American League, we’ve got two likable franchises in Toronto and Seattle. But over in the National League, the contrast couldn’t be sharper: the blue-collar, small-market, hardworking Milwaukee Brewers versus the corporate, big-market, entitled Los Angeles Dodgers. It’s the little guy versus the empire — and the perfect reflection of America today.
The Brewers aren’t glamorous, and
that’s exactly what makes them beautiful. A team built on chemistry, grit, and belief. They win by squeezing every ounce of effort out of what they’ve got. No billion-dollar payrolls. No celebrity fan base. Just heart and hard work.
The Dodgers, meanwhile, don’t just have money — they are money. Their payroll for 2025 sits near $350 million, the largest in baseball. They’re the poster child for corporate ownership, luxury boxes, and rosters assembled by accountants instead of dreamers.
Where Milwaukee represents heart, Los Angeles represents the machine. It’s not just a clash of teams — it’s a clash of values. Blue-collar perseverance versus corporate corruption. Working-class hope versus executive excess.
At the top of the Dodgers’ empire sits Mark Walter and Guggenheim Partners — a $345 billion financial conglomerate whose reach stretches far beyond baseball. Through its network of investments, Guggenheim has been tied to private prison contractors and companies that profit from ICE detention centers and surveillance.
Now, whatever your stance on immigration might be, any decent human being can look at an ICE detention center and recognize it as inhumane. And I think most of us feel uneasy about the level of surveillance championed by Palantir Technologies — a company Mark Walter recently partnered with. There are serious concerns about human rights here. But exploitation and moral compromise are nothing new for Walter and the Dodgers.
Before Dodger Stadium became the jewel of Los Angeles, there was Chavez Ravine — a thriving Mexican-American community tucked into the hills above downtown. Families lived modestly but proudly: tending gardens, raising children, and building a neighborhood in the truest sense of the word.
Then came the promise of “progress.” City officials seized the land under the guise of public housing, only to later hand it to private interests. Bulldozers rolled through, homes were burned, and residents — many of them U.S. citizens — were forcibly removed. Their only crime was living on land someone richer wanted. Their community was erased to make way for Dodger Stadium — because the Dodgers get what the Dodgers want.
So when we talk about the Dodgers’ entitlement, it’s not just the money that stains the uniform. The very ground their stadium stands on was taken from Latino families. And while this was decades before Mark Walter and Guggenheim Partners took control of the franchise, they still profit from its legacy.
As you can see, it’s easy to root against the Dodgers — not just for their obscene payroll, but for everything they represent. They’ve become the embodiment of a system that prizes profit over people and optics over ethics, one that stays rich by keeping others under its boot. The Brewers, on the other hand, are everything the Dodgers aren’t: humble and human. They remind us that success doesn’t have to come at someone else’s expense. That sometimes, the little guy can win. That heart still matters.
Because Mark Walter’s heart… is as cold as ICE.
