Playing Dodger baseball must be like giving speeches in Las Vegas.

Theres one distraction after another, so how can you stay focused on the task in front of you?

Hollywood, with all of its glamour and enticements, beckons. The weather is stupendous, and has been known to be so intoxicating that it has beguiled top-ranked college quarterbacks into ditching squad workouts in favor of surfing.

Sure, there is the occasional player like Jeff Kent, who eschews the local temptations and stoically soldiers his way through season after season. But hes unusual.

Dodgerland is a magnet for the flamboyant and eccentric, for people like Gary Sheffield, a true Drama King, for bad drivers like Raul Mondesi, and for sourpusses like Kevin Brown.

A Teflon team, nothing seems to stick around for very long, victories included.

Once more, in 2006, the Blue Crew seems set on finishing third or fourth in a still-mediocre division, despite the fact that it has a big payroll, a new GM and Manager.

Certainly, injuries are playing a role, with closer Gagne ailing. But there is something missing that makes a fan still sigh despite the off-season signings of nearly an entirely new infield, and some new pitchers.

Call it soul or savvy or fire in the belly, or all of the above; the Dodgers, for years now, have been missing it.

So, you cant blame any particular owner, or manager, or set of players. Like an earth without molten magma at its core, the Dodgers are dwelling in a dead zone.

I dont know if theres an easy fix, or any fix, for that matter.

Tommy Lasorda might know something, and though hes a great gabber, hes silent on this topic.

Someone should buddy up to this guy, maybe after a nice meal, and ask: So, whats up with this team?

Like a custodian at an institution, he might know something profound that others have missed. And if it has something to do with a Brooklyn soul, perhaps he can tip us off about waking it up from its long and deep sleep.