LOS ANGELES — At 8:37 p.m., Freddie Freeman felt nothing. For weeks, the man has endured torture. His rehabilitation sessions have started at 10:30 a.m. and lingered until the afternoons, with agony filling the hours in between. Just 29 days ago Freeman crumpled in a heap at first base in this very ballpark, his right ankle badly sprained. On the most absurd night, this ballpark harkened back to a similar left-handed slugger’s moment from 36 years ago, this time Freeman floated around first base. He mirrored Kirk Gibson as he rounded those bases, his limp less noticeable than it was just a week ago and without Gibby’s signature fist pump.
Like Gibson, he had swung the Los Angeles Dodgers to a victory in Game 1 of the World Series, a fantasy ripped out of backyards and now forever into the lore of Dodger Stadium. The first walk-off grand slam in World Series history shook this place and delivered a 6-3 extra-inning victory over the New York Yankees.
“You dream about those moments,” Freeman said.
Freeman did not sprint around the bases. Rather, he watched with his bat in the air as he sent a rocket into the night, dropping it to the dirt only as it began to quake from the bellowing roar of the 52,394 fans who can now say they attended a night etched into immortality.
“(That) might be the greatest baseball moment I’ve ever witnessed,” said Dave Roberts, the Dodgers manager familiar with the idea of nights in October sticking to you like glue.
Freddie Freeman made a slight adjustment to his swing that allowed him to tolerate the pain in his ankle. (Maddie Meyer / Getty Images)
The moment came to Freeman in the 10th inning by way of four fingers. With first base open, Yankees manager Aaron Boone opted to intentionally walk Mookie Betts to bring up Freeman with the bases loaded. Nestor Cortes, the Yankees’ left-handed reliever, had thrown all of one pitch in the past 37 days but held the platoon advantage with one out remaining to tilt the series in New York’s favor.
Cortes threw Freeman a fastball. Freeman did what his ankle had not allowed him to do in a month. He lifted his right foot and planted it into the dirt, driving off of it as he swung. For weeks, Freeman searched to make that possible again.
From his perch alongside Roberts, Max Muncy sat with a bat he wouldn’t have to use. Daniel Hudson, warming for an unlikely 11th inning, stood on the bullpen mound with a direct view of the left-handed batter’s box.
Then Freeman connected for a 409-foot blast to right field.
Hudson threw his arms in the air. Muncy flung the bat into the air. From first base, Betts screamed and ran until he couldn’t anymore.
“Just that swing, you knew it was gone,” Roberts said.
“There are certain balls you know,” Muncy said.
“One of the most, if not the most incredible game I’ve ever been a part of,” Chris Taylor said. “You couldn’t have written a better ending. … For him to be the guy to come up in that big spot, it was perfect.”
There have been days over the past few weeks when it looked as if every step Freeman took drove a thousand nails into his foot. He’d gnash his teeth as he limped around, medicated to do even that much. Putting Freeman on the field became a matter of taping his lower extremities back together.
“It’s just a lot of tedious stuff in there and he f—ing hates it,” Hudson said. “When he has to be in (the training room), he’s miserable.”
The night the Dodgers won the National League Division Series, Freeman sported spatting tape on the outside of his cleat to hold things in place.
“He’s doing something that is basically heroic to put himself in a position to even be available,” Kiké Hernández said.
It did not help Freeman’s bat. Through his first 32 at-bats this postseason, Freeman had just seven hits – all singles. His inability to trust his ankle sapped much of his power. On the night the Dodgers won the pennant, Freeman sat. For the second time this October, his ankle was too much to overcome.
The days between Sunday night’s clincher and Game 1 on Friday bought Freeman time. He did not run during that time. He only swung, with his ankle finally allowing him to do so uninhibited. So he swung. With each cut, he sought to recreate something inherent in his swing — the ability to transfer force from his back leg to his front, rolling over on that front foot as he rotated through the ball. Rolling over on a sprained ankle had become impossible. In Game 5 of the National League Championship Series, he noticed the ankle rotating out and not rolling, overcompensating and sapping everything he had behind each cut. So Freeman and hitting coach Robert Van Scoyoc manufactured solutions.
“Just been doing a lot of work, staying flat-footed, trusting staying connected to the ground and kind of retraining that,” Van Scoyoc said on Friday night. Freeman’s lack of trust in his right ankle pulled him off his back leg too early, causing the entire swing to spin out.
They settled on a mental cue. Rather than think about his front leg stepping toward the plate as the pitcher delivered the ball, Freeman thought to step out. In doing so, the right foot stayed in its proper location but his back leg remained planted longer.
That felt good, so he decided to swing on the field with it.
“It was a line drive out to shortstop every single time,” Freeman said. “It has been a while since I’ve done that.”
Standing in left field watching this two days ago, Taylor turned to Hudson. The two had been out shagging baseballs during the batting practice session but were captivated by what they were seeing.
“I think Freddie’s about to go off,” Taylor told Hudson. Hudson agreed.
“You could see it,” Taylor said.
“Freddie started looking like himself again,” Kiké Hernández said.
That continued into Friday when Freeman stepped in for his first at-bat against Gerrit Cole and poked a two-strike curveball past third base. Freeman rumbled around first base as the ball caromed off the padding in foul territory. He struck fear into his dugout with every subsequent step. “Stop,” Roberts pleaded as the ball skipped past left fielder Alex Verdugo. Running at a plodding pace, Freeman’s gait became more and more dependent on his left leg to keep things going. “Oh no,” Hernández pondered to himself.
“Oh jeez,” Freeman thought. “Here we go.”
Before the first pitch, he joked he would try to steal the series’ first base to win all of the country some free Taco Bell through its now-defunct promotion. This was a step further than that. Freeman slid into third base with a triple that only slightly paled in likelihood to what would occur hours later.
It has become something of a running gag for these Dodgers. Twice this October, Freeman’s ankle has been too much for him to handle. Both games, the Dodgers won in blowout fashion. Talented teammates have told the former MVP to let them pick him up for once.
“Freddie is unbelievable,” Jack Flaherty said. “What he has done day in and day out to try to play. And then to be able to understand certain days like I’m not at my best and somebody else should probably play today, that’s probably the hardest thing to do.”
It did not enter Boone’s mind as he contemplated his options Friday night. The Yankees manager, clinging to a one-run lead, did not deliberate long on his decision to walk Betts intentionally. Betts’ woes of Octobers past are long gone this go around, and he remains an ever-present threat, especially against the left-handed Cortes.
Cortes had already delivered a belt-high fastball to Shohei Ohtani, who popped it up into foul territory. Freeman awaited another fastball, looking for something closer to him so he could ignore any of Cortes’ off-speed offerings outside early in the at-bat. Cortes threw him an inside fastball, the type that forced plenty of torque on his ankle.
Freeman crushed it.
“When you’re 5 years old with your two older brothers and you’re playing Wiffle ball in the backyard, those are the scenarios you dream about, two outs, bases loaded in a World Series game,” Freeman said. “For it to actually happen and get a home run and walk it off to give us a 1-0 lead, that’s as good as it gets right there.”
(Top photo of Freddie Freeman: Maddie Meyer / Getty Images)
