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| if it had to be somebody, it might as well have been Freddie |
At some point late last night—maybe it was the top of the thirteenth? whichever inning it was that they showed Vladdy thoroughly finishing an apple, I think—a faint but discernible "Let's Go, Blue Jays" rose up briefly before it was deliberately and of course understandably drowned out by the excellent Dodger Stadium crowd (still not sure how they put up with the loudest "in-game ops" in the game; it's brutal! just stick with the lovely organ!). It's all a blur, honestly, as is bound to happen in the longest World Series game there's ever been (a tie, at least—none longer, we can say), and what certainly seems to one of the best baseball games in living memory (I was remarking last night that this game surpassed 1991 WS Game Seven for me [how many times did I rewatch my VHS-taped copy?], and that was before we were even into extras). In the early going, I was pleased as could be with Max Scherzer, who allowed just two solo home runs (that we do not get upset about solo home runs is a longstanding maxim in our house; I trust the youth to carry this forward)—one to Shohei Ohtani (more on him later!), one to Téo—in another fantastic outing, all things considered, and I was even more pleased when Alejandro Kirk parked a Glasnow curveball over the centre-field wall and staked us to a 3-2 lead, as they say, scoring both Vladdy and Bo, neither of whom should have even been on base but for Tommy Edmond's whiff on a seemingly bespoke (I am working that one in more) double-play ball to his right. The Blue Jays added another, and that four-run inning felt like almost enough to work with until Ohtani's second double of the night tied it up. But then Vladdy! Dashing madly around the bases and scoring from first with a wild slide on what turned out to only be a Bo Bichette single (he's not running "well"). When Ohtani homered again in the seventh to tie it once more, it was of course remarkable, but it still felt like we were playing a normal, if wonderful, baseball game. Then things got weird. Oh hey before that, let me say: lots of nice defensive plays, too! Big throws from Vladdy and Barger, Tommy Edmond with two great throws and a nice relay from Téo . . . just tonnes of great stuff. (The less said about the game's one true gaffe—the deeply botched and delayed ball/strike call that led to Varsho heading up the line, and Bo therefore understandably thinking it was ball four and a walk, only to be picked off—the better; it was just a poor scene all around.) But deep into the bullpens, that's when things really got strange, and stayed that way for really a lot of hours. After Glasnow, the Dodgers went, Banda, Wrobleski, Treinen, Dreyer, Sasaki, Kershaw for perhaps the final time (to get Lukes with the bases loaded, the Blue Jays' best chance in extras), Henriquez, and finally Will Klein for four innings, and for many more pitches than he'd ever thrown as a professional. You will note that that is literally everybody they had, as far as relievers goes (Yamamoto, who pitched Game Two, was loosening up in the pen, that absolute madlad). For the Blue Jays, they emptied it out too, going to Fluharty, Varland, Dominguez, Bassitt, Hoffman, Fisher, Eric Lauer for four-and-two-thirds somehow, and finally Brendon Little, who pitched out of big trouble in the seventeenth, only for Freddie Freeman (who has actually not been hitting that well?) to take a three-two pitch just a little deeper than the several balls Daulton Varsho had run down on the warning track throughout this game's previous six hours and thirty-nine minutes for Freeman's second World Series walk-off homer in as many years (no one else has ever had more than just the one). I felt bad for poor Little, who I can't imagine anyone sensible is in any way blaming for the loss, but I was also just relieved that the game ended on something clear-cut and definitive from a truly great player, rather than some error or mental lapse or meltdown that could have really hurt somebody. A strange concern, perhaps, but after eighteen innings of baseball, and as the clock drew very near to 4AM, it is very much how I felt. Had this seemingly endless spectacle of suffering and failure, now ended, summoned from me a renewed sense of empathy and the essential dignity of all living things? Or was I just super sleepy? Could easily have been both, just as soon as either.
The game was incredible, in the true sense that it was difficult to credit what it offered us: Shohei Ohtani became the first player to reach base seven, eight, or nine times in a World Series game (he took care of all three, so that nobody else needs to), as his two doubles and two homers were followed by four intentional walks (man, Mookie Betts isn't really making all that much of those chances yet, is he?), and another walk where Little didn't seem too upset that his curveballs were ending up in the dirt. It is wild that the question surrounding a player who was walked five times is whether or not he should have been walked even more times, but for my part I will say that the times they went after him all made sense to me, both on a pure numbers level (take Shohei's obviously laudable home run rate, and compare it to the run expectancy of the first batter reaching base with no outs, for example, and you will see why walks with nobody on are as uncommon as they are; repeat this for any number of game states and/or just watch [maybe even sim!] a bunch of baseball), and also on the level of just straight-up competition, like, here is one of my guys I trust to get outs, and Ohtani, although quite clearly the greatest baseball player to ever live, is nevertheless a person who sometimes makes those—outs, I mean, and indeed even he makes more than half the time! At a certain point, you've got to play baseball. A little more on the subject of managerial decisions: it has been noted, too, that the batting order the Blue Jays were left with throughout extra innings was not their most desirable, which is of course true, but this loses sight (I would argue deliberately! as though in bad faith!) of the specific circumstances of each individual move at the time it was made, each rational in its turn (Springer hurt himself on a swing, and so Ty France, who did well, and then Davis Schneider to run for him; IKF to run for Bo and replace him at second is self-evident; Straw as a pinch-running late-inning defensive replacement for Barger has been the correct practice for ages; Heineman as a pinch-runner for Kirk when his run would have put the Blue Jays ahead well into extras is the right move). John Schneider used his bench aggressively, playing first to protect the lead with defensive replacements, and secondly to try to pinch-run his way to the lead in extras, all of which is exactly how you have to play it on the road; if you are the visiting team, you are functionally losing a tie game, and need to manage accordingly. I find no fault! The only managerial move all night that had me exhaling audibly was Braydon Fisher after Hoffman, rather than straight to Lauer, but my concern was misplaced: Fisher was given a pocket of the Dodgers' lineup to deal with, and he dealt with it admirably. The bullpens for both teams were the biggest concern going into this series, and so of course they just combined to turn in one of the great all-time displays of relief pitching we have seen or will ever see, allowing no runs over ten-and-a-half innings after the seventh. Unreal.
For all of this game's endless intrigues and complexities—some of them half-forgotten already, but the stuff that hasn't been, or the overall impression of it, at least, seems likely to linger in the mind—where do we actually stand in its super sleepy aftermath? At a two-one series after three, is all, which is the only place we can ever be after splitting the first two, I would remind you (I am sure you appreciate this reminder). The Blue Jays are still in the not-unenviable position of needing just the one win in Los Angeles to bring things back to [the] SkyDome for a Game Six on Friday night (Hallowe'en! spooky!). If Shane Bieber throws well in Game Four tonight against (sigh) Shohei Ohtani, who surely must be at least lightly tuckered after all of that (oh hey Kirk threw him out stealing second! I meant to mention that eariler!), that's the win we need right there, simple as that. And if he doesn't, our season will be on the line Wednesday night. Nothing announced, but that would be Yesavage? With everybody available out of the pen? This actually sounds okay to me, having seen "everybody" really put together something genuinely special last night. Great job, everybody! Thanks for all the baseball.
KS
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