An improbable year.
An impossible situation.
An injured player on one leg.
An immortal walk-off World Series homer.
It all feels surreal–like deja vu on the grandest of scales.
Did Freddie Freeman really just channel Kirk Gibson, rekindling the spirit of a moment that is forever etched into the hearts of Dodgers fans from 36 years ago?
Did the Los Angeles Dodgers really just go steal victory from the jaws of defeat in Game 1 of the World Series with one out left to spare?
Yes. Yes, they did.
As Freeman limped into the batter’s box on a cool, brisk Friday night, facing New York Yankees left-hander Nestor Cortes, the tension inside Dodger Stadium was buzzing with electricity, like a swarm of bees locked inside a jewelry box.
Just like Gibby did before him, Freddie was hobbled by a sprained ankle, nursing weeks of wear that had him in and out of the lineup throughout the postseason.
The reality was that with the injury, Freeman was a shell of himself at the plate. Batting .219 with no home runs, no extra-base hits, and just one RBI in the playoffs up until the biggest moment of his life befell him.
Surely this weak, feeble, and one-legged former MVP can’t do the impossible can he?
52,394 fans all held their collective breath; the Yankees could feel the victory just inches away from their mighty grasp.
And then the ball erupted off Freeman’s bat like an explosive firecracker on the Fourth of July. CRACK! The sound echoed across Chavez Ravine and traveled all the way back to the Bronx.
As the ball sailed half-way up the right-field pavilion, Dodger Stadium quaked with the sheer force of the crowd that realized they had just witnessed something mesmerizing and magical. It’s something they will talk about about for the rest of their lives, something they will ask others one day: Do you remember where you were when Freddie Freeman stepped up to the plate in the bottom of the 10th inning in Game 1 of the 2024 World Series?
“That was awesome,” said Max Muncy, the last Dodgers’ player to hit a walk-off homer in the World Series at Dodger Stadium. “To feel the ground shaking from the crowd. To see the reactions from all our teammates, that was just an unbelievable moment.”
As Freeman watched the first-ever walk-off grand slam in World Series history take flight, he looked back towards his father sitting behind home plate, and pointed his bat to the sky, as if to tell Fernando Valenzuela, “we got you.”
As he casually released his bat, and rounded the bases, all of the emotion of the last three months of his life poured out onto the field.
Freeman played through a broken finger earlier in the year, then missed two weeks at the end of July after his three-year old son Max was diagnosed with Guillain-Barré syndrome, a rare neurological condition in which the body’s immune system attacks its nerves, causing weakness, numbness, and in the case of Max, full-body paralysis.
“These last few months have been a lot. They’ve been a grind,” said Freeman reflecting on his tumultuous journey to this moment in time. “I love the history of this game, so to be a part of it, it’s special.”
Freeman returned to the team, but suffered a high-ankle sprain during the final regular season game at Dodger Stadium. A 7-2 victory that clinched the Dodgers 11th NL West pennant in the last 12 seasons.
“Knowing what Freddie has gone through, it’s super special for him to have this moment,” said teammate Mookie Betts, who was intentionally walked so that Freeman could have his opportunity at the plate. “I’m glad it was him that did it.”
FOX broadcaster Joe Davis, in a nod to Dodgers legendary voice Vin Scully, called the moment with the same words that etched Gibson’s historic homer into baseball lore: “She is gone!”
And just like Scully before him, it felt perfect and timeless. Instead of Scully’s classic call, “In a year that has been so improbable, the impossible has happened.” Davis gave birth to a new chapter when he uttered, “Gibby, meet Freddie,” and in that instant it wasn’t just a home run–it was a cinematic score, playing out in front of our eyes.
As Freeman limped around the bases, he flexed for the bullpen, he yelled and screamed in exultation, as his teammates stormed home plate, waiting for their hero in an ecstatic frenzy.
“Everything was the same outside of the fist pumps,” joked Dodgers’ manager Dave Roberts on how Freeman’s homer compared to Gibson’s. “Gibson’s was iconic. I think if we win three more games, Freddie’s is going to be right up there with it.”
The parallels between the two magical moments are uncanny.
Both Gibson and Freeman were underdogs in the moment, physically compromised, backs against the wall, their teams down to their final out.
Each saw a rally born out of a walk, and ultimately, each drove a pitch deep into the same part of the pavilion at Dodger Stadium.
“Freddie is going to be a first-ballot hall of famer. Anytime he’s at the plate, one foot or not, you feel pretty good about what he can do,” said Dodgers’ second baseman Gavin Lux, who started the rally with his one-out walk. “You felt like he was going to get a big hit there. You could see the look in his eyes. You can’t make it up.”
For the sake of history, there have been 62 walk-offs in the 120 iterations of the World Series.
The Dodgers have had five walk-offs in the World Series.
There have only been three walk-off homers by teams that were trailing–Joe Carter for the Blue Jays in 1993, Gibson in 1988, and now Freeman in 2024. What do they all have in common besides the weight of history sitting upon their shoulders? They all made history with one perfect swing.
I myself was a child when Gibson took his perfect swing. The next 36 years hearing the generation older than me discussing where they were and what they were doing when Gibby changed the course of history.
For myself and Dodgers fans across the globe, Friday night felt like 1988 all over again. Only it was a moment etched in time for our generation. As fans hugged and high-fived, pointing their camera phones at the field and then at themselves, the echoes of history hung in the air.
“That might be the greatest baseball moment I’ve ever witnessed,” said Roberts, eyes gleaming with the kind of reverence Gibson had inspired in Dodgers fans for decades. “And I’ve witnessed some great moments. It was just pure elation.”
Minutes after his blast, Freeman sat at the podium to address the media, still buzzing with adrenaline. “I want to run through this table and tackle all of you guys (laughter),” he joked of how he was feeling. “This is pretty cool. It’s going to be hard to sleep tonight.”
Maybe when he does fall asleep and begins to dream, Freeman will relive the night in its entirety.
The game began with a solemn tribute to the recently departed Fernando Valenzuela–the number 34 emblazoned on the mound, and a moment of silence as the Valenzuela family tearfully gathered down the third base line–then, as if the Ravine was filled with the strength from Valenzuela himself, they began to chant “Fer-nand-do…Fer-nan-do…”
Three hours later, those chants shifted, eventually growing louder, and louder, as their hero stepped to the plate with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the 10th. “Fred-die…Fred-die…”
“Those are the scenarios that you dream about when you’re five years old,” said Freeman, smiling like the five-year old version of himself, looking up, lost in the moment. “Two outs, bases loaded in a World Series game. For it to actually happen and get a walk-off grand slam. That’s as good as it gets right there.”
Game 1 of the World Series on Friday night will reverberate in our hearts and minds for a lifetime. Kirk Gibson, wherever he was watching the game, had to be smiling and fist-pumping.
And Dodgers fans?
Well, they’re believing in the magic of October all over again.