The first time I went to a World Series game, in 1983, I woke up in a state of panic. I was 8 years old. Whenever I wore my lucky Phillies hat to Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia, the home team won. I could not find it anywhere.
But we had to get going. This was an afternoon start in the brilliant October sunshine, the last World Series day game ever played in a National League park. I found out later that my younger brother had hid my hat, and I assumed this was why the Baltimore Orioles had won the game. I’d be back the next night, anyway.
All these years later, I keep coming back to the World Series — one more as a fan, in 1993, and the rest as a writer. On Sunday, I saw my 100th World Series game in person, an event that, alas, was not commemorated in the pregame ceremonies at Wrigley Field.
Luckily for me, I’ve got this outlet. So come along for a trip through some of the most memorable moments, with one from each of the first 20 World Series I’ve been lucky enough to see.
Quietest atmosphere: Game 5, 1983 — I had my hat back, but somehow Eddie Murray didn’t care. He bashed two home runs off an overmatched Charlie Hudson, including one that nearly hit his own name on the big scoreboard above right field. Scott McGregor pitched the Orioles to the title, 5-0, preserving the shutout when Joe Morgan stumbled off third base as he tried to tag up on a fly ball. As the Phillies fans solemnly shuffled into the offseason, I moved down to watch from the front row as Cal Ripken snagged the final out. The attendance — 67,064 – was the highest for any World Series game in the last half-century. The decibel level might have been the lowest.
Wildest game: Game 4, 1993 — The Toronto Blue Jays and the Phillies played nine outrageous innings in a misty rain and a downpour of runs. Trailing by 14-9 in the top of the eighth, the Blue Jays rallied off Mitch Williams to win, 15-14, in a game that featured half innings with one, two, three, four, five and six runs. Pitchers Al Leiter and Tommy Greene each had a hit, but John Kruk — a career .300 hitter — went 0 for 5.
Worst umpiring call: Game 1, 1998 — The San Diego Padres needed every possible break to have a chance against the mighty 114-win New York Yankees. They could not survive a blown call on a 2-2 pitch down the middle with two outs and the bases loaded in the seventh inning of a tied Series opener. Given new life, Tino Martinez launched the next pitch from Mark Langston into the upper deck for a grand slam, and the Bronx exploded. Richie Garcia, the plate umpire, later explained that he had warned catcher Ramon Hernandez not to move his glove on borderline pitches. When Hernandez did, Garcia refused to give him the strike Langston deserved. The Yankees swept the series.
Worst pregame ceremony: Game 2, 1999 — Hey, look, it’s the All-Century Team together on the field in Atlanta! Pretty neat, right? And there’s Jim Gray interviewing Pete Rose … and there goes any semblance of sanity for the rest of this brief, forgettable World Series. The fallout from Gray’s aggressive questioning, as Rose barreled into his second decade of stonewalling about the gambling that got him barred from baseball, completely overshadowed the details of the Yankees’ sweep.
Worst actual first pitch: Bobby Jones, Game 4, 2000 — After winning Game 3 against the Yankees, the New York Mets enjoyed about one second of genuine optimism in Game 4. Bobby Jones tried a first-pitch change-up to Derek Jeter, who bashed it over the left-field fence at Shea Stadium. The Yankees won that game, won the title the next night, and Jeter won the SeriesMostValuablePlayerAward. Jones, who had spun a one-hitter to clinch the Mets’ first-round series, never pitched for the team again.
Best ceremonial first pitch: George W. Bush, Game 3, 2001 — Just seven weeks after the destruction of the World Trade Center, President Bush stood atop the mound at Yankee Stadium before 55,820 fans and a million churning emotions: grief, pride, hope, fear. In a moment rich in symbolism, Bush — perhaps the most avid baseball fan ever to hold the office — gave a thumbs-up to the crowd and tossed a tailing fastball down the middle to Todd Greene, the Yankees’ backup catcher. Another Texan, Roger Clemens, followed Bush to the mound and beat the Arizona Diamondbacks.
Best storyline that vanished: Game 6, 2002 — Shawon Dunston was the San Francisco Giants’ designated hitter for Game 6 of the 2002 World Series in Anaheim against the Los Angeles Angels. With no score in the fifth inning — and no homers in more than six months — Dunston ripped a two-run shot over the left-field fence. I spent the next three innings writing about the happy coincidence that Dunston, a 39-year-old son of Brooklyn, would be the one to lift the Giants to their first championship since moving from New York to San Francisco. Then the Angels made a furious comeback, the story disappeared and Dunston never played another game in his career.
Most intriguing matchup that never happened: Game 7, 2003 — This game was never played because Josh Beckett shut out the Yankees to clinch it for the Florida Marlins in Game 6. But I still wonder what would have happened the next night had the Yankees’ Mike Mussina really matched up with the Marlins’ Carl Pavano. Maybe Mussina, who should be a Hall of Famer, would have had the magic October moment that always seemed to elude him. Or perhaps Pavano, later an object of ridicule in the Bronx, might have been the hero. Thanks to Beckett, we’ll never know.
Best view: Game 4, 2004 — From my vantage point in the front row of the auxiliary press box, down the right-field line at Busch Stadium in St. Louis, I could see the backs of two Boston outfielders at the moment the Boston Red Sox broke the Curse of the Bambino: right fielder Gabe Kapler, who wore No. 19, and center fielder Johnny Damon, who wore No. 18. The last Red Sox championship, of course, had been in 1918.
Loudest clubhouse: Chicago White Sox, Game 3, 2005 — After 14 innings, 15 pitching changes, 21 walks, 30 runners left on base, and 341 agonizing minutes, the White Sox finally beat the Houston Astros to move within a game of a sweep. They were overjoyed and exhausted in their clubhouse, blasting Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” so loud that it may have been heard all the way back in Chicago. I don’t know what quotes I missed, but I’ll never forget that sound.
Coldest ballpark: Busch Stadium, Game 3, 2006 — Two years earlier, when the Red Sox won, it was 62 degrees in St. Louis. I know because the scoreboard clock at the old Busch Stadium showed that temperature in the background of some celebration photos. I figured 62 degrees was the norm for St. Louis in late October — and, wow, was I wrong. At the new ballpark, before windows had been installed in the press box, I watched and shivered as Chris Carpenter tamed the Detroit Tigers, who looked all series as if they would rather be anyplace else. That night, at least, I couldn’t blame them.
Strangest interview setting: Game 4, 2007 — This was the night the Red Sox finished off the Colorado Rockies in a sweep at Coors Field. It was also the night that news broke of Alex Rodriguez’s decision to opt out of his Yankees contract. Just as I was entering the visiting clubhouse after the final out, who calls me back on the phone? Hank Steinbrenner. I ducked into a hallway alcove as Steinbrenner railed at Rodriguez’s disloyalty: “Does he want to go into the Hall of Fame as a Yankee or a Toledo Mud Hen?” Soon enough, of course, Steinbrenner was handing Rodriguez $275 million. And that Hall of Fame question would get a whole lot more complicated.
Funniest reaction to a championship: Game 5, 2008 — Down on the field at Citizens Bank Park, moments after Brad Lidge had fanned Eric Hinske with a lethal slider to win it for the Phillies, I found general manager Pat Gillick. I had covered Gillick when we both worked in Seattle and was genuinely happy for him. But Gillick, who had just capped his Cooperstown-level career, was more amused than reflective. At 71, he had seen almost everything in the game, but not this: a fast-forward version of baseball with everything on the line, after two days of rain had suspended the game in the middle of the sixth. Gillick looked into the delirious stands, cocked his head and said, “That was pretty cool, wasn’t it? Three innings for the championship. Pretty cool!” Then he smiled and walked away.
Best postgame gesture: Game 6, 2009 — Technically, this happened the day after the Yankees clinched, but it still amazes me. At 2:25 a.m., on his drive home after beating the Phillies in Game 6, Yankees manager Joe Girardi saw a car crash in front of him on the eastbound lanes of the Cross County Parkway at the Hutchinson River Parkway. Girardi, who had just reached the pinnacle of his profession, stopped his car and dashed on foot across three lanes of traffic to check on the driver and make sure she was unharmed. Quite a night.
Best ballpark song: Game 2, 2010 — The folks in San Francisco know how to throw a party. The first thing you do is invite Steve Perry. Then you pack AT&T Park with raucous fans of the Giants, who get a lead in the World Series and keep it. The sun goes down and you play “Lights,” train a camera on Perry and watch as he whips his arms around, waves his black cap and orange towel, points, shouts and croons his local anthem at the top of his lungs. Unbelievable atmosphere. Never seen anything like it.
Best observation: Game 6, 2011 — Two outs, ninth inning, the Cardinals facing elimination against the Texas Rangers. My friend Tom Verducci, the sublime writer for Sports Illustrated, can’t believe what he is seeing. Sitting next to me in the press box, Verducci wonders aloud why Texas right fielder Nelson Cruz is playing so shallow on the Cardinals’ David Freese. Moments later, Freese lofts a triple just beyond the reach of the backpedaling Cruz. If only the Rangers’ dugout had noticed what Verducci did, and alerted Cruz, Texas would have won the championship. Instead, the Cardinals stole the World Series in a game for the ages.
Scariest moment: Game 2, 2012 — That September, across the bay in Oakland, I had been there when a line drive fractured the skull of Oakland A’s pitcher Brandon McCarthy. In October, at Game 2 in San Francisco, another liner struck the head of another tall right-handed pitcher, Detroit’s Doug Fister. “I was scared to death when it happened,” Tigers manager Jim Leyland said, but Fister, incredibly, stayed in the game. He pitched quite well in a 2-0 loss to the Giants.
Craziest ending: Game 3, 2013 — This one sent us scrambling for the nearest official rule book. Twice on the same play, Red Sox catcher Jarrod Saltalamacchia tagged out a Cardinal at home plate. Problem was, the second runner, Allen Craig, was ruled safe on obstruction: literally, an error by Boston third baseman Will Middlebrooks for impeding Craig’s path to the plate. It was the first World Series game to end on an error since the Bill Buckner game in 1986, but this October ended better for the Red Sox, who never lost again and beat St. Louis in six.
Most thrilling finish: Game 7, 2014 — After the Giants were blown out in Game 6 in Kansas City, a few of the writers asked Madison Bumgarner what his pitch count might be if he were needed on two days’ rest in Game 7. “Two hundred,” he told us. So while it was no surprise, it was still surreal to see Bumgarner stride in from the bullpen to protect a one-run lead in the bottom of the fifth. You knew then he would not leave until the World Series was over, and that is just what unfolded, with the tying run 90 feet away at the end.
Best base-running move: Eric Hosmer, Game 5, 2015 — It was a speedy play in slow motion, a defining moment in Flushing for the aggressive Kansas City Royals and an oh-so-Mets nightmare. Hosmer broke for the plate on a ninth-inning grounder to the creaky third baseman David Wright. Lucas Duda took Wright’s loopy throw, and a strong throw to the plate might have won the game and sent the series back to Kansas City. But Duda’s heave sailed wide, Hosmer scored the tying run — and when the Royals flew home, they did so with the championship trophy.
