World Series Heroes Never Die

The year was 1988. I was ten. It was the first time my beloved Dodgers had been in the World Series with me being old enough to understand the significance of it — and the irrational emotional roller coaster it takes you on when your team takes part.

One thing I didn't understand yet was the immortality such events bestow on the ordinary. Even at only ten years old, I could comprehend the magnitude of what Orel Hershiser had accomplished that year — the 58 consecutive scoreless innings, the tireless determination to keep pitching in all situations throughout the postseason. I understood how unlikely Kirk Gibson's legendary home run off Dennis Eckersley in Game 1 was, and how — maybe not in the most sophisticated of ways — I knew how it changed the trajectory of the entire series.

What was a little lost on little old me at the time was the contributions of the unsung — the lesser-known names of the group, but those whose fingerprints were on every trophy and highlight.

In 1988, it was guys like Mickey Hatcher, who took the place of the injured Gibson in the starting lineup and promptly hammered a home run right after Dave Stewart deliberately beaned Steve Sax to open the bottom of the first inning. It was guys like Mike Davis, the big free-agent signing who hit a paltry .196 during the season under the weight of lofty expectations, but hit a massive home run in the fifth and final game.

We all remember Hershiser and Gibson, but there’s DNA from Hatcher and Davis — and a handful of others — in any statue commemorating the heroics of the better known. Please don’t make that weird.

Present Day:

The 2025 World Series was an instant classic — as much as I hate that term. The Blue Jays stretched the Dodgers and their billion-dollar payroll to the limit. Not that that should have been a surprise — the Jays had an excellent roster in their own right and had earned their tickets to the big dance. And of course, star power was on display as you’d expect from the last two titans standing in the royal rumble of the endless Major League Baseball season.

But maybe it was this year, 37 years older than I was in 1988, that the magnitude of the contributions of the little guy really hit home for me.

Yes, the Dodgers got a herculean, Hershiser-esque pitching performance from Yoshinobu Yamamoto. Shohei Ohtani, of course, was also there, setting a World Series record by getting on base nine times in a single game. Freddie Freeman hit yet another walk-off home run. But all of this — every single one of these memorable moments and more — would be forever condemned to obscurity, replaced by moments in Toronto Blue Jays lore, if not for the interventions of men who aren’t even household names in their own households.

Here are the guys for whom we pour out three fingers of Macallan 18 today. Just kidding. We’d never pour out a fine scotch. Do we look like idiots to you? Anyway, without further ado…

Will Klein

Klein is a journeyman reliever in every sense of the word. Armed with a big fastball and scattershot command, he’d never had any semblance of big-league success. He only ended up on the Dodgers because the bullpen situation in Los Angeles had become so desperate with injuries that anyone with a pulse would have done.

It’s prevailingly unlikely Klein even would have made the World Series roster if not for a to-date unspecified family tragedy that kept the reliable Alex Vesia off the roster. The hope was that Klein wouldn’t ever have to enter a game — lest the outcome already be all but decided.

Then came Game 3, which ultimately went 18 innings, tying a World Series record. After 14 innings, there was nobody left in the Dodger bullpen but Klein.

All he did was hurl four scoreless innings before Freddie Freeman ended the game with a home run — and Klein wound up the winning pitcher. He wouldn’t make another appearance in the series, but without this one, no doubt the final outcome is different.

Edgardo Henriquez

Henriquez’s pedigree is somewhat more heralded than Klein’s. The Dodgers signed him as an international free agent, and he worked his way through the system fairly rapidly. His fastball has been clocked as high as 103 mph.

However, his only postseason appearance had been a disaster against the Reds in the NLDS. There was no good reason for him to make the World Series roster other than the league (and probably the law) frowns on it when you exhume random corpses from nearby graveyards.

He preceded Klein’s masterpiece with two scoreless innings of his own — an equally pivotal contribution to a vital win. He’d go on to pitch once more in the series and look awful in a game that was already lost, but his efforts in the epic Game 3 stand on their own.

Miguel Rojas

Few guys on the Dodgers get as much social-media hate as Rojas. Never mind that most social-media sports commenters are idiots — Rojas has a role to play, does it well, and little outside of it at this stage of his career.

He’s a superb defender at every infield position, but a middling hitter at best. So when he came up with one out in the ninth inning, the Dodgers trailing by a run in the deciding Game 7, Dodger fans could be forgiven if they expected their hopes to come down to Shohei batting with two outs and nobody on.

All Rojas did was battle Blue Jays closer Jeff Hoffman to a full count before waiting on a slider and hammering it over the left-field wall for a tying home run.

Play-by-play announcer Joe Davis said it best on the call: “Gone! No Way!!! Miguel Rojas!!!”
🎥 Watch the call here.

Rojas wasn’t finished. In the bottom of the ninth, he made a great play on a sharp grounder by Daulton Varsho and threw out Isaiah Kiner-Falefa at home by a fraction of an inch to keep the game tied.

October Never Forgets

Baseball doesn’t always give you what you want, but it has a way of giving you what you need. It’s not the billion-dollar swing or the SportsCenter highlight that stays with you — it’s the guy who didn’t belong there, standing under the lights, quietly rearranging fate with one improbable moment.

Rojas, Klein, Henriquez — none of them will ever have a mural outside Dodger Stadium or a signature shoe deal. Hell, half the barstools in Los Angeles couldn’t pick them out of a lineup. But for a few innings in October, they were immortals.

And that’s the thing about the World Series — it’s a time machine. It takes you back to being ten years old on the couch with your dad, the game on low, a bowl of popcorn balanced on your lap, heart pounding like it matters more than anything. It reminds you that every season, every player, every fan gets that one night when the world holds its breath and a nobody becomes a legend.

When the champagne’s flat, the confetti’s swept up, and the parade’s a memory, all that’s left is the story — a story that only baseball can tell. The Dodgers will go back to being the Dodgers, the Blue Jays to the Blue Jays.

But Klein will always be the guy who survived the 18th. Henriquez will always be the kid who didn’t flinch in the biggest of big moments. And Miguel Rojas will always, always be the man who saved the Series with one perfect swing and one perfect throw.

The heroes change. The names fade.
But October never forgets.

Torsten / 120 Proof Ball

Proof that the internet was a mistake.