2025 World Series Game 3 Post-Game Thread: They Stop Serving Beers At The Seventh Inning

DODGERS 6, BLUE JAYS 5 (18)

They stop serving beers in the seventh inning at Dodger Stadium, in order to make sure that a stadium surrounded by expansive parking lots filled with a sea of cars won't have a slew of inebriated drivers behind the wheels of their vehicles.

In last night's game, however, Dodger Stadium probably could have kept serving beers for a couple more innings. We didn't go home until after Freddie Freeman won the game in the bottom of the 18th inning, in what is now tied for the longest game in World Series history.

That said, I was at Game 3 last night, and I indulged in a full-throttled, 25-ounce beer following Freddie Freeman's amazing walk-off home run. It was glorious, about as much so as a semi-cold Michelob Ultra beer could be.

And this is its own story.

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Ms. Sax and I got to the game at 4p, about an hour before first pitch, which was a controversy in itself. I would have gotten there at 2p when the gates opened; however, she thought that was nuts. She was probably right; traffic was bad, but not horrible, getting into the Stadium; and we were comfortably in our seats by 4.20p. And it was worth it to have not aggravated Ms. Sax further on this one; this was her first World Series game, and although I was familiar with the majesty of the first World Series home game pre-game show and wanted to see all of it, I didn't want her to be angry going into this one.

(Little did we know that we would be at the Stadium for eight hours!)

Along the way, we stopped at the Home Plate Bar where we splurged on overpriced cocktails: a spicy habanero mule that came smothered in tajin that got all over the place (what a mess!), as well as a spicy margarita. Both were pretty tasty though a little light on the Svedka Vodka. (We now own these two collectible plastic receptacles that I'm sure will sit unused in the back of our bar for a decade or so.)

Cocktails in hand, the pre-game ceremonies were awesome (as always). The fireworks during the starting lineup introduction. The unveiling of the huge flag on the outfield grass. The perfectly-timed flyover, even with the inclusion of the Canadian National Anthem as part of the pre-game routine.

I was happy. Ms. Sax was happy. Let the games begin.

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I got my first beer after the second inning, following the Dodgers having taken the one-run lead on Teoscar Hernandez' solo home run. When Shohei Ohtani added his own solo shot in the third, we were rocking, despite Freeman getting thrown out by a mile to end that frame.

There was an idiot in our section wearing a George Springer Toronto Blue Jays jersey, and we were riding him (and his namesake player) all game long. Boos, yells of "cheater!", and consistent mocking probably got to both of the people in the Stadium with this unfortunate sartorial choice--Springer was 0-for-3 with 2 Ks before removing himself from the game, mid-AB, in the seventh inning--but this guy was soaking up the vitriol pretty well. And then, following Alejandro Kirk's home run, the fan turned around to our section and held his finger to his mouth, telling us to be quiet. Andres Gimenez added a fourth run, and the Dodgers were suddenly down 4-2. This started the feeling of tension that would not abate for another five hours or so.

We got two runs back in the fifth inning, off a Shohei Ohtani RBI double and a Freeman RBI single, to tie the game. The Blue Jays took the lead again in the seventh inning on a Bo Bichette single to right that Teoscar Hernandez lollygagged (yet again), allowing Vladimir Guerrero Jr. to score all the way from first. Tension, again.

And then Ohtani came back and powered "a center-cut fastball" (as Joe Davis put it), depositing it in the Left Field Pavilion to tie the game at five:

It should be noted that Ms. Sax has not been the biggest fan of Ohtani, mostly because he hasn't done much at the games that we happen to attend together. Tonight flipped that script. That second home run, Ms. Sax lost her mind--I think it was the first pitch of the AB--and Ms. Sax could not believe it. Ohtani reached base nine times last night, with four extra base hits (for only the second time even in a World Series game)? I think she's an Ohtani fan now.

And then, the tension began, for the next 11 innings.

So, about that beer....

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Like any smart Dodger fan, I went back up to the concourse after the top of the seventh, knowing that they would be cutting off alcohol sales soon. After hitting the restroom (and washing my hands, thank you!), I grabbed my second Michelob Ultra can of the night.

When I got back down to our seats, Ms. Sax did not look happy.

"Did you see my text?"

I gulped. "No."

I looked at my phone. She had asked me if I could please not get another beer--a fair ask given I was driving in what I thought would be the next hour (ha!); she knows I love beer; and yeah, it's probably good overall to be drinking less of this wonderful nectar in general, given the obvious health factors.

However, it was too late. I had the beer in hand. So I said I was sorry, and I put the beer in the cupholder in front of me. And there it sat.

Now, Ms. Sax had quickly forgotten about this beer, thanks to the well-timed Ohtani home run. But she was right there with me with the tension and all the missed opportunities that played out in the innings ahead of us.

Roki Sasaki having to come in in the eighth, in a jam, to bail out Jack Dreyer's two-on, one-out situation. Tommy Edman, in one of his many defensive highlights this game (despite an error as well), nailing Isiah Kiner-Falefa at third to preserve a scoreless ninth. Ohtani IBBd in the ninth, only to be caught stealing in front of Mookie Betts (who continued his postseason malaise with a 1-for-8 showing last night, squandering multiple game-winning opportunities).

Davis Schneider thrown out at home in the tenth with a perfect throw by Edman and tag by Will Smith. Clayton Kershaw coming in with the bases loaded to relieve Emmet Sheehan (an admirable 2.2 IP with 2 Ks), to get a clutch ground out (Edman!) in the top of the 11th inning. (This was an especially gut-wrenching moment, as I was pretty certain the baseball gods were going to be cruel to Kershaw once again in the postseason, and yet we amazingly survived.)

And the Dodgers had so many chances that just didn't work out. Will Smith, Teoscar Hernandez, even Freeman himself all hit deep fly balls that died on the warning track due to the thick marine layer that you could feel like a soup, even from the stands. Said Max Muncy in The Athletic:

But as Game 3 went on, Dodgers third baseman Max Muncy noticed dew on the grass and moisture on top of the dugout railing. After eight seasons with the Dodgers, Muncy knew what that meant. A marine layer had descended on Dodger Stadium, and good luck trying to hit the ball out.

“Nighttime here is really hard to hit,” Muncy said. “I’ve seen it so many times. Balls just die in the night.”

Freeman thought he possibly hit a homer in the 13th, but his 103.9-mph shot fell short of the 395-foot wall in center. He hit another ball to center 104.4 mph at a lower launch angle in the 15th, and got the same outcome.

Other Dodgers experienced similar frustration. Smith dropped his bat as if he hit a homer in the 14th, but his 101.5-mph drive got knocked down. Dodgers manager Dave Roberts thought Teoscar Hernández’s 101.4-mph blow had a chance in the 16th, but no, that one didn’t go out either.

Leading off the 18th, Freeman got another chance. And when Little left a 3-2 sinker in the heart of the plate, he connected again to center. This time, he hit the ball 107.4 mph at a 34-degree launch angle, the right combination to finally unlock a homer.

Did Freeman think it was gone?

“I was not sure,” he told me in his postgame interview on Fox. “Just because of the other couple. My swings were getting better and better as the game was going on. I’m just glad I was able to get the opportunity again.”

Throughout all these moments, I was just staring at that beer, convinced that if I took one sip, it was going to cost the Dodgers the game. Every time we escaped the top of the inning scoreless--the Dodgers relievers pitched 13.1 scoreless innings following Tyler Glasnow's start--I knew that it was the right choice to abstain. And every time we failed to capitalize on an opportunity to win the game, I stared at that can of Michelob Ultra and wondered how much my jitters would have settled with a swig.

"You ever see the sun rise at Dodger Stadium?", I asked Ms. Sax.

She did not find that very funny. She kept imploring the Dodgers to win it, screaming "I want to go home!". But I did ask (politely, albeit a bit disingenuously) if she wanted to leave early, and there was no way she was going to leave early.

"I'm too invested at this stage," she said. "Let's win this."

Will Klein, the last Dodger pitcher available, entered the game in the top of the 15th inning. This is a guy who wasn't even on any of the other postseason rosters for the Dodgers this year. But we had no other options.

And Will Klein was the man last night.

With every inning that of the four he pitched (72 pitches total, which was twice what he had ever thrown in any major league appearance of his life), more and more of the Dodgers' relief corps were up on the top step of the bullpen, cheering him on and giving him strength. Klein gave up a two-out single to Guerrero in the 15th, then had clean 16th and 17th innings (including a sweet comebacker off of Davis Schneider to end the 17th). And then in the 18th inning, Klein got out of a bases-loaded jam by striking out backup catcher Tyler Heineman, to preserve the scoreless frame.

The beer taunted me, throughout Klein's labors.

I resisted.

And then, finally, came the Freeman home run, in the bottom of the 18th inning. Freeman was the first batter of this inning. And I have to say, when he hit it, it looked like it had a shot to win the game--but so had so many of the other fly balls that game, so who knows? Only when Daulton Varsho started climbing the wall in center did I realize that this one was going to clear the fence by enough.

The Dodgers WIN.

The place went nuts. Freeman, in extras, in the World Series, again. The only man to have multiple walkoff home runs in the World Series, ever.

I hugged Ms. Sax. We slapped hands with everyone around us. We watched Freddie stomp on home plate and the team explode. Pandemonium ensued.

And then I grabbed that can of semi-cold Michelob Ultra and drank all 25 ounces in one bacchanalian quaff.

What an amazing ending.

What an amazing game.

What an amazing beer. (And who ever said that about Michelob Ultra?!)