LOS ANGELES — Freddie Freeman’s father wanted Mookie Betts to get the at-bat. Wanted the New York Yankees to pitch to Betts rather than walk him intentionally and set up his son for the first walkoff grand slam in World Series history.
“Actually, I was hoping Mookie would get a hit, so Freddie wouldn’t come up,” Fred Freeman said.
WHAT?
“He hasn’t played a lot lately,” Fred said of his youngest son. “I was thinking, ‘Mookie is really swinging the bat well.’”
Fred had a point. Freddie, playing on a severely sprained ankle, did not appear in two of the final three games in the National League Championship. Yankees manager Aaron Boone, though, made the obvious decision.
The Yankees, leading 3-2 in the 10th inning, were one out away from capturing Game 1 of the World Series. The Los Angeles Dodgers had runners on second and third. Left-hander Nestor Cortes Jr. was not going to face the right-handed Betts. He was going to get the left-handed Freeman, who, before Friday night, had not had an extra-base hit in the postseason.
It was over faster than you can say, “Kirk Gibson.”
Freeman attacked Cortes’ first pitch, a 92.5 mph fastball down and in. The ball jumped off his bat 109.2 mph to right field. It would be the hardest ball Freeman hit for a base hit since Aug. 31. But Fred, sitting up front, right behind home plate, wasn’t sure the ball would go out.
“As soon as he swung, I knew it was a good swing. But you never know,” Fred said. “(I thought) is it far enough? Is it far enough? And then I saw him do the mic drop with the bat. And I knew it was gone.”
Freddie’s wife, Chelsea, was sitting in the family’s suite.
“I literally almost passed out,” she said. “It was absolutely unbelievable. I have no words.”
In the wild on-field celebration that ensued after the Dodgers’ 6-3 victory, Freddie sprinted over to Fred and leaped into the netting behind home plate. The two touched hands, the son saluting the man who raised him and his two older brothers mostly as a single father, the man who to this day throws him batting practice in the offseason. Freddie’s mother, Rosemary, died of melanoma in 2000, when he was 10.
What did he say to his father?
“I was just screaming in his face,” Freeman said in his postgame interview with me on Fox. “Sorry, dad. He’s been there since I was a little boy, throwing batting practice to me every day. This isn’t my moment. That’s my dad’s moment.”
“[My dad] has been there since I was a little boy, throwing batting practice to me every day. This isn’t my moment, it’s his moment.” 🙏@FreddieFreeman5 joins @Ken_Rosenthal after his walk-off grand slam in Game 1 for the @Dodgers! pic.twitter.com/7KH8fNfIFK
— FOX Sports: MLB (@MLBONFOX) October 26, 2024
Actually, it was a moment for everyone.
For those of a certain age, the Gibson homer immediately came to mind. Game 1 of the 1988 World Series at Dodger Stadium. Gibson hobbling to the plate on two injured legs. A two-out, pinch-hit, walk-off shot in the ninth off Hall of Famer Dennis Eckersley, transforming a 4-3 deficit into a stunning 5-4 victory.
“I played the whole game, though,” Freeman said, evoking laughter in the postgame interview room.
Gibson’s blow staggered the Oakland A’s, the equivalent of the first big punch an underdog lands in a heavyweight fight. The Dodgers upset the A’s, four games to one. Gibson’s at-bat was his only one of the Series. If the Dodgers had not won, his homer might not be remembered the same way.
Dodgers manager Dave Roberts, who called Freeman’s shot perhaps “the greatest baseball moment I’ve ever witnessed,” was not quite ready to make the Gibson comparison yet.
“That’s iconic,” Roberts said. “I think we win three more games, that’s going to be right up there with it.”
For those who care to nitpick, Gibson appeared more seriously injured than Freeman. Eckersley was a far more accomplished pitcher than Cortes. But the parallels between the homers, right down to their respective landing spots in the right field stands, indeed provided an echo of history, the kind baseball offers like no other sport.
“Everything was the same outside of the fist pumps,” Roberts said, referring to Gibson’s legendary trip around the bases.
Freeman’s trip was noteworthy in its own right. He held his bat high with his right hand as he walked up the first-base line, did his own version of a mic drop, even flexed between second and third. The Dodgers, accustomed to Freeman’s stoicism, delighted in his reaction.
“He’s the classic, when he hits the ball hard, put-the-bat-down-and-run-hard guy,” third baseman Max Muncy said. “I have never seen him pimp a home run like that.”
Well, if ever there was a time . . .
“You dream about those moments even when you’re 35 and been in the league for 15 years,” Freeman said, “You want to be part of those.”
Before the game, Freeman joked with his teammates that he was going to be the first player to steal a base in the Series, triggering a promotion in which that player would “steal” a free taco for fans to redeem at Taco Bells across the U.S.
The promotion was discontinued this season because Taco Bell is no longer is a sponsor of Major League Baseball. The Dodgers, evidently unaware of the change, reacted vehemently to Freeman’s mere suggestion that he might steal a base.
“We were all telling him, if you do that, we’re going to walk out on the field and take you off the field,” Muncy said. “Sure enough, he hits a triple. It was kind of just like, of course. I wouldn’t have expected anything different.”
Freeman’s first-inning triple probably should have been a double, but Yankees left fielder Alex Verdugo misplayed the carom off the wall down the third-base line. Roberts, asked what he was thinking as Freeman chugged to third, initially offered a one-word reply:
“Stop.”
But Freeman, even while moving gingerly, insists on playing with a winning edge. He was similarly opportunistic in his first game of the postseason, when he stole second just nine days after spraining his ankle. Doctors told him the recovery from such an injury normally takes four to six weeks.
At times this postseason, Freeman has been almost painful to watch. In San Diego during the Division Series, he could be seen in the clubhouse, struggling to walk in his bare feet with his ankles turned inward.
On Friday, he said he arrived at Dodger Stadium at 10:30 a.m. PT to begin treatment for a game that would begin at 5:08 p.m. His six days off, however, served him well. Freeman stayed off his feet. He said when he ran out to high-five his teammates during introductions, it was the first time he had run in a week.
The ankle wasn’t Freeman’s only physical issue late in the season — he also suffered a hairline fracture in his right middle finger trying to field a ground ball in St. Louis on Aug. 17. That injury, however, cost him minimal time. The ankle has been debilitating, not only physically, but also mentally and emotionally.
“We’ve had to tell him, ‘Hey, we’ll pick you up,’” Muncy said. “He wants to be out there every day. And we’ve told him, take your day right now, have the off-day, be ready for the next game. It’s tough for a guy like him to accept that. But everyone in this clubhouse has been behind him the whole way.”
Freeman’s father also lauded his son’s fortitude.
“I can’t believe he’s playing, let alone doing this,” Fred said. “I’m so proud of him. I don’t even have words for it. I’m bursting with pride.”
Before Game 1, Chelsea Freeman gathered the Dodgers’ wives for a toast. Standing on the field after Freddie’s homer, she recalled her message: “To think back a few months ago, how rock bottom low we were, to where we are today, is just absolutely unbelievable.”
Chelsea wasn’t talking about the Dodgers. She was talking about her family, and specifically Maximus, the youngest of the Freemans’ three sons. In late July, Max, 3, was diagnosed with Guillain-Barré syndrome, a rare neurological condition in which the body’s immune system attacks its nerves.
Max went into temporary paralysis. He was placed on a ventilator. Freeman spent 10 days away from the team, and was moved to tears when he returned to the clubhouse to find blue t-shirts with #MaxStrong on the front and Freeman’s name and No. 5 on the back.
Chelsea and Freddie Freeman, with their sons Max (in arms), Brandon (right) and Charlie (center). (Ken Rosenthal/The Athletic)
All three Freeman boys were in the Dodgers’ family room when Freddie hit his grand slam Friday night, “probably freaking out down there,” Chelsea said, laughing. The entire family gathered on the field afterward. Max, on his way to a full recovery, walked with a limp, but found comfort in his father’s arms.
“It’s been a long three months, but these fans here, when I came back that first game, they showed love,” Freeman said during his interview on Fox, with the crowd hanging on every word. “I’m just glad I was able to reciprocate tonight.”
By then, Freeman had dried off from the ritual ice-water dunking by teammates Muncy and Teoscar Hernández. His teammates were still in the clubhouse talking about him, praising his character, marveling at his strength.
“It couldn’t happen to be a better human being,” Betts said.
Or, as Roberts put it, “When you do things the right way, you play the right way, you’re a good teammate, I just believe that the game honors you. Tonight, Freddie was honored.”
Funny how the game can turn so poetic, isn’t it? Boone summoned Cortes to face Shohei Ohtani with two on and one out. At that point, Ohtani was 18-for-his-last 24 with runners in scoring position. In the batting cage, Kiké Hernández made a not-so-bold prediction.
“I thought Shohei was going to end it,” Hernández said. “But I’m really glad Shohei didn’t end it.”
No, it had to end the way it did. With Ohtani lofting a foul popup that Verdugo somehow caught while sprawling into the stands, both runners automatically advancing because he landed out of play. With the Yankees walking Betts intentionally to load the bases. And with Freeman hitting his singular slam.
Fred Freeman was right: Betts indeed had been swinging the bat well. But after what his son accomplished in Game 1, Fred acknowledged he needed to recalibrate his expectations.
“So is Freddie now,” Fred said, reveling in the moment, laughing into the night.
(Top photo of Freddie Freeman: Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)
