LOS ANGELES — The ticket stub was attached to the cork board above my dad's desk with a red push pin, in our basement at 721 Treadway. If you didn't know it was there, it was easy to miss on a crowded (but organized) board.
It looked pretty much like any other ticket stub from the era, maybe an inch-and-a-half wide and 4 inches long, with two perforated edges where it was ripped from the ticket book. Ordinary, except for a couple of wonderful, intoxicating word/number combinations: "World Series 1982" and "Game 7." The stub, faded now, was from the Brewers-Cardinals finale at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. Face value: $24, for box seats down the third-base line, Row 3, Seat 8.
MORE: Ranking the most memorable Game 7s in World Series history
I cannot even begin to calculate how many hours of my childhood were spent looking at that ticket stub, thinking about that ticket stub, imagining what it would have been like to be in that atmosphere where people used that ticket stub.
"I remember thinking I couldn't believe I was actually there," my dad told me Wednesday when I called to ask for a picture of the ticket.
I could tell, even over the phone, that he was reliving the experience in his head. He sounded almost giddy, talking about a game from 35 years ago as he ate lunch at a restaurant with my mom.
Baseball is just the best.
Even as a kid, I knew what "Game 7" meant. It was magical. We played baseball in my backyard — we used tennis balls, with wood or metal bats, and ghost runners — and it was always Game 7. Always. There was no reason to dream about Game 2 or Game 3. Heroes were made in Game 7.
Game 7s are magical. This is the ticket stub (my dad went to the game) that helped launch my lifelong love of baseball. pic.twitter.com/o3nBRAP6q7
— Ryan Fagan (@ryanfagan) November 1, 2017
MORE: Game 7 tickets fetching hefty price
Sometimes, I'd go look at the ticket stub before going out and playing ball with Tommy and Eric and Garrett and anyone else we could round up. I'd hit right-handed to imitate my right-handed hitting heroes and lefty for the lefties (or I'd hit lefty because there was a giant tree that blocked potential home runs pulled when hitting righty). I'm sure it took decades for the grass to finally grow back where we had the pitchers mound or home plate.
OK, now I'm getting off the point. You don't want to hear about the joy of hitting the ball into Eric's pool next door — "POOL BALL!!!" we'd all yell — or the time Tommy let go of the bat after a swing and it hit me square in the mouth (why I was playing catcher without a mask, I don't know). My mom, a nurse, was tending to my exploded upper lip when Eric stuck his head around the corner and said, "Are you coming back out soon?" And before I could finish saying, "In a minute, dude," my mom shut that down. She took me to get stitches instead. I still think I could have played a few more innings first.
Anyway, back to Game 7s. I'm still fascinated by these magical events, and we have been incredibly lucky as baseball fans to see a plethora of Game 7s in recent years. This contest between the Astros and Dodgers is the third Game 7 in the past four years, and that's not even counting the Cardinals' Game 7 win against the Rangers in 2011.
As I sat there in Kauffman Stadium for Game 7 of the 2014 World Series, I thought I might never again see a more exciting, tense baseball game. Madison Bumgarner ascended to legend status that day, coming in as a reliever and shutting down the Royals for five brilliant innings, with the Giants holding a thin 3-2 lead.
As I watched Alex Gordon race around the bases when his two-outs-in-the-ninth-inning line drive skipped past Gregor Blanco and rolled to the wall, I thought I might be seeing a Game 7-tying inside-the-park home run. But Gordon stopped at third and Bumgarner retired Sal Perez for the final out and the Giants were World Series champions.
MORE: Every MLB team's worst postseason memory, revisited
As I'm writing this column, I know I'll never see a more exciting, tense game than I saw in Cleveland last year, when the Cubs snapped their 108-year championship drought by completing their comeback from a 3-1 series deficit with an 8-7 win in 10 innings. I mean, I think I know that. But baseball eternally surprises us, doesn't it?
On the list of jaw-dropping moments I've witnessed in person, Rajai Davis' two-run game-tying homer off Aroldis Chapman in the eighth inning is in the top three. Maybe No. 1, if I really sat down and put together a list.
It's hard to imagine this Game 7 between the Astros and Dodgers can possibly live up to those two Game 7s, or how I imagined it was for my dad in 1982.
The way this incredible series has played out, though, it's almost impossible to imagine anything less than a historic final showdown between two amazing baseball teams that won 100-plus games during the regular season and survived October's ups-and-downs to reach this final resolution point.
Game 2 was epic, and Game 5 was epic-er (hey, we're allowed to make up words for Game 7s). This series has had a bit of everything — heroes, goats and redemption stories — and we should all be incredibly excited for what we're about to watch.
Just promise to do me a favor: Hold onto those tickets, folks. The next generation needs to be inspired.
