After four games the World Series has given fans everything they could want except for the two things everyone said they would get—fireworks provided by the currently one-armed Shohei Ohtani and the Ghost Of Aaron Judge.
In seeking a unifying theme for what was touted as a cataclysmic collision of styles, coasts, reputations, and economics, the Series has taken … well, not a turn really as much as a slight veer. Even after Tuesday's 11-4 victory by the New York Yankees, the series still seems beyond dramaturgy's reach. A 3-1 series lead is more full of waiting than proper suspense, and so there’s only so much to anticipate. Unless, of course, Freddie Freeman has three more homers in him and the Yankees continue to struggle in their quest to run counterclockwise without incident.
The Dodgers tried to close out the series with the most galling of statements, a bullpen game that avoided their best relievers. The Yankees responded with their first true Yankee-esque response of the postseason. After drab beatings of the Royals and Guardians got them to the World Series, New York had moped through the first three games offensively—they put up seven runs and a .186 team batting average during that stretch, just to quote the most rudimentary of a wide selection of poor numbers. The whole team looked eminently ready for golf.
That was before Dave Roberts, trying to win the Series with a pitching rotation straight out of the 1907 Cubs, relearned the perils of attempting a bullpen game without relying too heavily on the best relievers in that bullpen. Ben Casparius and his career record of 54 batters faced nervously got through one full time through the order, Daniel Hudson proved more erratic with half as many pitches, most notably the gasping slider he served up to Anthony Volpe with the bases loaded in the third inning. The pitch looked as tired as John Sterling sounded describing it, though in fairness Sterling had done all the venting he'd planned in the first inning when he and Suzyn Waldman ripped the Yankees fans who’d tried to steal the ball right out of the glove of Dodger right fielder Mookie Betts.
Volpe, one of the Yankees many underachievers in this series (Juan Soto is exempted in all categories here), shot that dreary pitch into the left field seats to neutralize Freeman's daily homer, and the energy in the building shifted. The Yankees survived a brief comeback-ette from the Dodgers and wrapped things up with five runs off last-pitcher-in-the-shop Brent Honeywell Jr. in the largely superfluous eighth.
It was what we all thought the Yankees were bringing to this bar fight, except that the bulk of the damage was done by their offensively beige bottom of the order. Volpe, Austin Wells, and season-long punching bag Alex Verdugo, who as a unit had been reduced to go-to-the-restroom-before-the-top-of-the-order-comes-up-again status, had five of the nine Yankee hits, and scored six and drove in seven of the Yankees' 11 runs. If not for leadoff hitter Gleyber Torres's three-run homer off Honeywell, nobody would have known the Yankees even had a top of the order.
But that is how this series is trying to define itself—free of the players you'd been sold as the nucleus of an epochal matchup. You're waiting on Ohtani? Have some Freeman instead (admittedly a decent trade). Can't wait for some Betts? Perhaps we could interest you in some Tommy Edman. Want some Teoscar Hernández? We’ve secretly replaced it with the House Hernández instead.
As for the Yankees, they seemed to be waiting on Judge to slug them across the line for the first three games. Once they abandoned that quest he became a crafty on-base type instead, walking, getting hit by a pitch, reaching on an Edman error, and singling in Soto with New York's last run. He even stole a base to show that he was paying attention even if his muscles weren't.
The only real joy to be had, in all honesty, is that the Yankees didn't get that all-expenses trip to the Sun that they’d seemed hell-bent on booking. They might even make a contest of this yet. The Yankees have their best pitcher, Gerrit Cole, going tonight and, well, you know how irksome larynxes can be when something already won turns out not to be won quite yet. Today it is still better to be the Dodgers, but it's not yet good enough.
In the meantime, this remains a World Series in search of a unifying philosophy beyond not watching the best players be the best players. This is not unusual, and it does teach us a lesson about baseball that Fox desperately does not want to teach—that even at the end of a long season, the game often moves the lighting off center stage just as you've found your seats and snacks.
