“She is Gone”
Word Series Game 1: Baseball and life and the stuff that dreams are made of.
“Incredible moment! Incredible moment for the game, it really was! But not for me!”
—Dennis Eckersley on one pitch that he threw some years ago
Freddie Freeman steps into the batter’s box, and somewhere inside him, he knows that this is the moment he has dreamed about all his life. It’s the moment every young hitter who has ever bashed a baseball, socked a softball, whaled on a wiffle ball, kicked a kickball, or splattered a spaldeen dreams about. World Series. Bottom of the 10th. Two outs. Bases loaded. Your team down. Over the tree is a home run,. Over the chain-link fence is a home run. Over the barn is a home run. Over the street is a home run. Over Mrs. Zepkin’s yard and into her rose bushes is a home run.
Freddie Freeman is not someone who thinks too much at the plate. See the ball, hit the ball. That’s what works for him.
But somewhere inside, he knows. This is the childhood dream. This is a jam-packed Dodgers Stadium, and the sound is unreal, and the stars are out, and millions upon millions watch. This is also his father, Fred, on the mound pitching to a 5-year-old Freddie in the backyard some 45 minutes away on The 5, depending on traffic. See the ball, hit the ball.
Nestor Cortes stands on the mound,