A catch worthy of a statue. An out at home plate by history-making inches. A cheating outfielder steals a victory. A struggling first baseman steals a marathon. A sore-handed catcher steals a title.
The greatest postseason game by one player in baseball history. The greatest World Series by one pitcher in baseball history. The greatest moment by a Dodger benchwarmer in baseball history, a guy so embedded in the landscape of Los Angeles sports that he will be forever known simply by two abbreviated versions of his name…
It’s perhaps appropriate today to give thanks for the drama, thanks for the art, thanks for the breathtaking uncertainty of the diamonds of October.
Thanks, baseball, for creating the tableau for the Dodgers’ 13 most memorable playoff moments, one for every win, one for every scream, one for every occasion when you thought it couldn’t get any crazier.
Then it did.
The Philadelphia Phillies’ Nick Castellanos is out at third after Dodgers shortstop Mookie Betts gets the throw from Max Muncy and applies the tag in the ninth inning of Game 2 of the NLDS at Citizens Bank Park.
As natural disasters in Los Angeles go, a rain delay temporarily washing out a music festival is pretty low stakes. But fans had to scramble last week after a sudden thunderstorm made Tyler, the Creator’s flagship festival at Dodger Stadium soggy and unnavigable.
Now kicked forward a week, a few acts (Sombr, Tems, Clairo) dropped off the bill, a few (Kali Uchis) joined in their stead, and travelers with nonrefundable plane tickets had to find other ways to amuse themselves in L.A. for a week. But once the Dodger Stadium gates finally opened, everything was more or less smooth sailing. Here are the highlights of the weekend’s performances.
Timothée Chalamet’s ‘Marty Supreme’ blimp makes an appearance
Last week, actor Timothée Chalamet released a parody of a marketing meeting, for his upcoming film “Marty Supreme.” The 18-minute clip consisted of the Oscar nominee pitching the team outlandish advertising ideas like painting the Statue of Liberty orange. In the Zoom meeting, he says, “We should have the blimp go above Flog Gnaw and rain ping-pong balls, Marty Supreme-branded, rain ping-pong balls on everyone.”
Low and behold, right before Tyler, the Creator’s set, a bright orange blimp reading “Marty Supreme” began circling Dodger Stadium — just as Chalamet prophesied. People all around the festival could be seen stopping and pointing out the flying spectacle.
But thankfully, no raining ping-pong balls made an appearance. (Cerys Davies)
Geese fly high
If every generation deserves its own cool/sexy/mystifying rock band, then Gen Z’s (or maybe Gen Alpha’s) seems to be Geese. Led by the deep-voiced Cameron Winter, the group from New York appeared at Flog Gnaw less than 24 hours after a hometown gig at the Brooklyn Paramount on Friday night. “We finished a tour but we couldn’t stay away from the limelight, so we got on a plane just this morning,” Winter told the crowd. Geese plays skronky yet weirdly beautiful guitar music that inspires both swaying and moshing; it’s in a clear lineage of NYC acts that stretches back through the Strokes and Television to the Velvet Underground. But here at least you could detect a distinct L.A. presence in Emily Green’s John Frusciante-coded strums and in the doomed-heartthrob proclamations that made Winter sound a little like Jim Morrison. (Mikael Wood)
Happy 10th anniversary to Mac Miller’s “GO:OD AM”
In the sea of vendor pop-ups, Mac Miller’s yawning face, the cover of his 2015 release “GO:OD AM,” stood tall. In celebration of the album’s 10th anniversary, photographer Brick Stowell put on a small exhibition to honor the late Pittsburgh rapper. While standing in line, fans were chatting, sharing anecdotes of listening to Miller’s music or memories of when they saw him perform at Camp Flog Gnaw many years ago. Inside, the exhibition is simple, consisting of a few large-scale prints of photos Stowell selected. Some of the images focus on a smiling Miller or depict him playing the guitar or with friends. The record played softly in the space and a few people sat on the couches, with their eyes closed. In the midst of the music festival’s craziness, the tent was filled with a weighted, reverent energy. (C.D.)
Kali Uchis performs during Camp Flog Gnaw on Saturday.
(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)
Kali Uchis mixed red-hot seduction with ICE-cold activism
As a last-minute addition to the festival’s lineup, Kali Uchis might’ve been expected to put in a no-frills performance. Instead, the eternally vibey psychedelic-soul star sang the lovey-dovey “All I Can Say” from inside a giant teacup — “If you came with someone you like, you could kiss them,” she suggested — and did “Heaven Is a Home” on the back of a motorcycle driven by a woman in a lace bodysuit and shades. (There was also a giant bed with satiny pink sheets.) Uchis is among pop’s foremost fantasists; her music invites the listener to get lost in an expertly appointed dreamland. But here she also had the real world on her mind: She played a video in which she said that everyone in her Colombian American household worked three jobs when she was growing up and that “immigrants built this country and make it what it is today.” As she left the stage, Uchis said, “ICE is terrorizing our community” and called out “their violations against human rights.” (M.W.)
Tyler, the Creator’s heartfelt thank you
“We couldn’t let that rain stop us — no, no, no,” Tyler, the Creator said not long into his hour-long set, and indeed Flog Gnaw’s mastermind seemed just a bit more amped than usual as he presided over the festival that almost wasn’t. Dressed in a red leather suit à la Eddie Murphy in “Delirious,” Tyler came out punching with “Big Poe” and “Sugar on My Tongue,” which also open “Don’t Tap the Glass,” the high-energy hip-house album he dropped this past summer with very little warning. But he also performed stuff from last year’s “Chromakopia,” which just snagged a nomination for album of the year at February’s Grammy Awards. (“Don’t Tap the Glass,” amusingly, is up against LPs by the Cure and Wet Leg in the alternative music album category.)
Tyler’s stage was designed to resemble a New York City subway station complete with a train car that he climbed atop and herky-jerked his way across. For “Don’t You Worry Baby” he was joined by a female dancer on roller skates; for “Noid,” a couple of guys with cameras helped him act out his unhappy thoughts on paparazzi. As the set went on, Tyler started shortening each song, limiting himself to only a verse or a chorus to pack in more hits: “Earfquake,” “Wusyaname,” “See You Again.” He thanked the crowd for hanging with the festival’s postponement — “I know it wasn’t ideal,” he said — and for “rocking with us for 11 years” of Flog Gnaw. The connection he’s forged is real. (M.W.)
Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso’s roller coaster of a set
Fresh off 5 wins at the Latin Grammys earlier this month, Ca7riel and Paco Amoroso left the CFA crowd delightfully perplexed. The audience started off on the smaller side, as Tyler, the Creator was wrapping up his set. But as the Argentine rappers, decked out in Versace, plowed through their catchiest hits like “Dumbai” and “Sheesh,” a dancing stampede made its way over.
Less than a year after their viral NPR Tiny Desk, the notoriously kooky duo flexed their ability to slip between genres. One moment, a pulsating EDM beat, beaming lasers and intense fog machines took over the stage — emulating a rave. The next moment, Ca7riel is angrily screaming “F— you!” at the top of his lungs over an aggressive punky guitar solo. Finally, they act like their microphones have become dumbbells, and start to sing about their “#Tetas,” on their satirical, body positivity anthem. Ca7riel and Paco Amoroso will never let you know their next move. (C.D.)
Fans raise their phones as Kali Uchis performs during Camp Flog Gnaw.
(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)
Clipse turn in a triumphant set
The Clipse have had a hell of a year. After releasing their first album together in 16 years, “Let God Sort Em Out,” the formidable Virginia rap duo of Pusha T and Malice embarked on a victory lap, which included a successful reunion tour and a flurry of hilariously entertaining interviews. In the midst of that, they also stopped by NPR’s Tiny Desk — a performance that had more than 3.5 million views as of November— and racked up four Grammy nominations including best rap album and album of the year. So it was only right that they were invited to perform at Camp Flog Gnaw once again. (They also performed at the festival in 2023.)
Fittingly, the Clipse opened their set with the menacing “Chains and Whips,” which is jam packed with lethal, high-level bars about why contemporary rappers simply can’t sit with them. Not wasting any time during their set, the veteran emcees went bar for bar, diving into more tracks from their latest album including “Birds Don’t Sing” (a dedication to their late parents) and “P.O.V.,” which Tyler, the Creator joined them for just in time following his own high-energy set.
Satisfying their day one fans, the Clipse also performed a handful of their classic records like “Mr. Me Too” and “What Happened to That Boy.” As they rapped the lyrics to one of their most recognizable tracks, “Grindin,” a montage of Black people doing step routines, dancing and recreating the Neptunes beat on lunch tables played on the massive stage screens.
Much like “Let God Sort Em Out,” the Clipse’s performance further solidified why they’ve been in the game for more than 20 years and why they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. — (Kailyn Brown)
Childish Gambino’s set was a race against time. Prior to his set, the 42-year-old singer/rapper/actor (also known as Donald Glover) allowed fans to vote for his setlist. Playing anything from his biggest hits like “Redbone” and a very short snippet of “This is America” to his cover of Outkast’s “Prototype” and the 2011 release “Les,” Gambino made it clear he only had an hour and wanted to get to as many songs as possible. He often played the first verse of a track, allowing it to peak in the chorus and quickly brush past it — making the set feel like an invigorating sprint.
Halfway through the performance, Gambino, sparkling his glittery wifebeater, took a moment to get vulnerable with the crowd. This was his first performance since he had to abruptly cancel his world tour last year. He explained that he had a stroke unknowingly, on stage in Louisiana, and later found out that he had a hole in his heart and needed surgery. As he narrated his story, the sky lit up with a drone light show, depicting images of a heart and other dynamic patterns.
He said, during all of these health problems, the only things he could think of were “how many people I’m letting down” and “here I am still copying Jamie Foxx,” which got a laugh out of the crowd. Throughout the remainder of the show, he continued to exude a grateful energy, saying repeatedly, “I didn’t think I’d be able to [be here].” As he played the chosen songs, it was as if his only goal was to make the crowd as happy as possible.
The rapper left with a final message, “You have one life, so live your life as you want.” (C.D.)
Blood Orange puts CFG in a trance
Following Geezer’s (Kevin Abstract and Dominic Fike) endearing display of friendship, Blood Orange kept the cameraderie going on the fest’s main stage. Though the multi-piece band behind Dev Hynes’ musical moniker may sound melancholic, their energy was jolting. During tracks about grief and loneliness, like the cathartic “Charcoal Baby,” only Hynes could get the entire crowd to head bang.
After releasing his most recent album, “Essex Honey,” Blood Orange made his impromptu return to the fest — calling last year’s set “one of his favorite shows.” The British singer and his band trade instruments with a sense of ease — splitting their time among a cello, keyboards, synthesizers, a drum machine, electric and acoustic guitars. In this intricate display of instrumentalism, dark electronica and high-pitched vocals blend into feelgood jazz and ’80s synth pop without notice. With dense fog and transculent pink lights, the whole set started to fuse into a unifying dreamy moment. (C.D.)
Helicopters, a megaphone and pink hair curlers: ASAP Rocky keeps Flog Gnaw classic
Right before ASAP Rocky was meant to close out the festival, a helicopter started to circle the area, shining its light down on the crowd. A mock news livestream took over the stage’s screens in search of the Sunday headliner, accusing him of “never dropping the album.” On stage, the Harlem rapper descended on a floating helicopter of his own, megaphone in hand and pink curlers in his hair.
He made it clear he was there “to start a riot” (and he did consistently check in on the densely packed crowd too). The 37-year-old rapper was soon joined by a few dozen hooded figures, carrying upside-down American flags, who began to mosh while he continued to spit his ever-steady flow. Switching between his older stuff, like “L$D” and “Potato Salad” (which he was joined for by Tyler, the Creator) and more recent beloved singles like “Praise the Lord (Da Shine)” and “Sundress,” Rocky stuck to what he knows best — looking pretty and skillful rhymes. (C.D.)
A swing carousel at Camp Flog Gnaw.
(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)
T-Pain knows your knees hurt
“I am old as f—,” T-Pain said as the R&B-rap crooner took a pause from his hit-studded set on Sunday night. “I was running out of time to do this. I saw the dimensions of the stage and my knees gave out.”
At 41, he is decently seasoned by Flog Gnaw standards (though still a surprisingly deft dancer). But his set was arguably one of the best-attended of the weekend, for good reasons.
Recent reappraisals from a mega-viral Tiny Desk concert and a boisterous Coachella set proved what close listeners have known all along: Pain is an absolute savant of melody and ear-tickling chord changes, with a gorgeous R&B voice whose famous digital treatments were artistically prescient rather than any sort of fix.
Yet to Flog Gnaw’s young crowds, blissfully free from the AutoTune wars of the 2000s, Pain now represents an idyll and purity of party music in hip-hop, rising from the mire of the Great Recession and the aspirations of President Obama with witty, self-aware hit after hit that showed a musician in total command of his craft, writing songs that transcend today’s cynical bleakness.
This redemption arc is well earned — how can you not listen to “Bartender” and long for the easy, sweet camaraderie of sidling up to your favorite server (though today that cocktail will more likely be N/A)? Dispatches from a saner time of millennial life like “Up Down” and “Can’t Believe It” landed like an envelope of Instax photos from a half-remembered house party. For Gen Z, it was Unc Culture embodied in the best ways.
Other than a brief villain segment (where Pain sung his verses from collabs with Chris Brown, Kanye West and R. Kelly; more an indictment of the men of R&B, really), his set delivered hit after hit and re-framed them within R&B history. He did what the genre is best at — stirring up the old glow of past happiness, even if that was spilling tequila down your pinstriped business-casual wear at a Hollywood bottle club in 2008. (A.B.)
Tyler, the Creator performs during Camp Flog Gnaw.
(Ronaldo Bolanos / Los Angeles Times)
Doechii, the classroom disciplinarian of your dreams
Doechii framed her raucous Sunday night set as a stern classroom lecture on the craft of rapping. But in that case, she’s the kind of teacher that you bump into at the grocery store with a cart full of booze and a you-didn’t-see-this wink.
The Grammy favorite and new TDE superstar is so mercilessly good at rapping, so fully possessed of her gifts onstage, that her set made me wonder how all the backing-track reliant MC’s still get away with it. From the vicious opening lines of “Stanka Pooh” — “Let’s start the story backwards / I’m dead, she’s dead, just another Black Lives Matter” — to the joint-snapping house-music workout of “Alter Ego” and the horror-comedy sex romp of “Spooky Coochie,” she never settled for less than the full scope of her talents, deeply honed.
A gleefully bawdy and physically gifted dancer, with of sneaky comic timing and a low-key powerhouse singing voice, by the time she got to the deep cut “Boom Bap” and fan favorite “Catfish,” Doechii made an impeccable claim to being one of the best rappers working today.
She didn’t play the Grammy contender “Anxiety” — one sees how that song wouldn’t make sense in this relentlessly hard hitting context. But whatever worries keep on trying her, after Sunday night, she can definitively leave them behind. (A.B.)
Zack Fox brings us to the (f)unction with globetrotting set
Just 15 minutes into Zack Fox’s hour and a half DJ set on Sunday afternoon, which was dubbed Zack’s Big Nasty & Booty Shake, many audience members were already sweating and shedding the layers they wore in preparation for the evening cold.
Garbed in leather uncle sandals with white socks, an Atlanta Falcons apron and a grill for a DJ stand (because he was cooking, duh), the rapper, comedian and actor brought the crowd to the (f)unction. Fox, who’s become known for his high-energy performances, delivered a globetrotting set filled with genres including Brazil’s Baile funk, Chicago house, Baltimore club, Nola bounce, soul, gospel Detroit techno and of course Atlanta rap, which is where he’s from. “Dance music is Black music,” Fox told the crowd in between his gyrating and turning up. “Y’all gonna learn something today.” (He also had the crowd repeat back “Free Palestine” and “F— ICE.”)
But what’s a cookout without good company? Fox also brought along a crew of talented dancers, which included a church hat wearing grandmother (who unexpectedly broke out into a backflip) and popular ballroom dancer Pack Rat. As Fox masterfully weaved between tracks like Khia’s “Steer,” KW Griff’s “Bring in the Katz” and Frankie Beverly and Maze’s “Before I Let Go,” the dancers vogued, shuffled, line danced and twerked. Even his “Abbott Elementary” castmate Janelle James (a.k.a Principal Coleman) grooved alongside Fox during his set.
He closed out with a Black church anthem, Kurt Carr’s “We Lift Our Hands in the Sanctuary.” Each time the track seemed like it was about to end, he comically brought it back a few more times with the lyrics “Yes! Yes, Lord, for the rest of our days.” (K.B.)
Ying and yang rappers, Larry June and 2Chainz, show us the finer things in life
On paper, Larry June — the laid-back Bay Area rapper known for his straightforward rhymes about organic living and financial literacy — and 2Chainz — Atlanta’s trap elder known for witty tracks like “Birthday Song” — may seem like an unlikely match. But as the pair performed their collaborative album “Life is Beautiful,” they were in perfect stride. The large crowd was a testament to how rare the moment was as it was one of the few times that the pair has performed the opulent lifestyle rap album since it dropped in February.
Much like the vibe of “Life is Beautiful,” which feels like a luxurious vacation backed with jazz-infused serene beats by the Alchemist, swaying ocean waves and yachts served as the backdrop while they delivered tracks like “Colossal,” “Generation,” “I Been” and “Bad Choices.” (Unfortunately, the Alchemist is on tour with DJ Premier, and was not in attendance.)
The backgrounds changed to imagery that matched the rappers’ hometowns as they dove into their personal discography. In a casual windbreaking sweatsuit, Larry June performed smooth tracks like “Smoothies in 1991” and “Watering My Plants,” while 2Chainz, who was rocking a leather two-piece set, got the crowd hyped with songs like “I’m Different” and “Watch Out.”
Suitably, the duo closed out with tranquil, flute-based “Life is Beautiful,” reminding the audience to embrace the beauty of the grind and the small wins in life, and simply enjoy their time on this Earth. (K.B.)
Sabrina Carpenter brought her latest world tour in for a landing Sunday night at Crypto.com Arena, where the pop star will play half a dozen sold-out dates through Nov. 23 to wrap up her year-long road show behind 2024’s “Short n’ Sweet.”
I was at Crypto when Carpenter played the arena last November, just after “Short n’ Sweet” was nominated for six Grammys. (It went on to win prizes for pop vocal album and pop solo performance.) But since then she’s released a speedy follow-up LP, “Man’s Best Friend,” which itself earned another six Grammy nods this month, including album, record and song of the year.
So it seemed worth checking in on the tour again as Carpenter, 26, gets close to stepping offstage. At least for a moment, that is: Come April, she’ll be back in the spotlight to headline Coachella along with Karol G and Justin Bieber. Here are the seven best moments from Sunday’s concert:
1. Turns out that earlier visit to the Lakers’ home wasn’t quite as cheery as it seemed then. “This time last year, when I played this show, I was going through it,” Carpenter told the crowd Sunday night. “I was not in a good headspace, and thankfully because of that I was able to write a whole new album for you guys this year.”
“Man’s Best Friend” follows Carpenter’s breakup with the Irish actor Barry Keoghan, whom she seems to refer to in her song “Go Go Juice” when she threatens to drunk-dial an ex named Larry. “So thank you for Crypto last year,” she added, “’cause you really inspired ‘Man’s Best Friend’ and what was to come after that.”
2. Carpenter didn’t sing “Go Go Juice” on Sunday, though she did throw a few tunes from “Man’s Best Friend” into a set list still dominated by material from “Short n’ Sweet.” (“Short n’ Sweet” is the better of the two albums, so this was fine.)
For the lightly country-fied “Manchild,” the singer and her dancers did a cute little line dance, and Carpenter’s live band powered “Tears” with some appealingly skanky disco-funk energy. The evening’s surprise song — the product of a regular bit in which Carpenter selects a tune via spin the bottle — was the new album’s “Nobody’s Son,” which emulates Ace of Base’s Nordic reggae more precisely than anyone else has in the past 30 years.
3. In one of the show’s other recurring bits, Carpenter pretended to arrest one of her opening acts, Amber Mark, with a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs before singing the very horny “Juno.” That song features Carpenter simulating a different sexual position every night; here, well, you can look it up on TikTok.
4. Shout out to Carpenter’s guitar player, Caleb Nelson, whose ripping solo in “Juno” made the tune sound just like the theme from “Beverly Hills, 90210.”
5. “I’m gonna give you a little bit of history that you didn’t ask for,” Carpenter said about halfway through the concert, which ended up being a selective rundown of gigs she’s played in L.A. since she was a teenager on the Disney Channel.
“I played the Roxy when I was 16, and then I think played the Wiltern,” she said. “Then I played the Fonda and then the Wiltern again. And then I went to the … the Greek! Went to the Greek, of course — that was the best night ever.”
6. It says something about Carpenter’s commitment to the concept of her show, which takes place in the various rooms of a late-’60s/early-’70s-style bachelorette pad, that after dozens of tour dates she’s still performing one of her most emotionally cutting songs, “Sharpest Tool,” while sitting on a toilet.
7. Carpenter closed, as she always does, with “Espresso,” and if you’d assumed that by now this breezy electro-pop bop would inevitably have lost some of its fizz, think again. “I’m working late ’cause I’m a singer,” she sang as she strutted down a runway jutting onto the arena floor. It’s a task she’s still up to.
LOOSE Women star Ruth Langsford has revealed she gets ‘frightened’ over having ‘senior moments’ after losing her dad to Alzheimer’s.
The 65-year-old beloved television host has opened up about her health fears after her parents were both diagnosed with dementia and her dad died from complications of the disease.
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Ruth Langsford has opened up about her health fearsCredit: ITVHer father Dennis Langsford died in 2012 from complications from Alzheimer’sCredit: Not known clear with picture deskRuth’s mother Joan has dementia at 94 years of ageCredit: instagram/ruthlangsford
Ruth’s father Dennis sadly died in 2012 from complications from dementia.
Because of the way in which Alzheimer’s is influenced by generics, Ruth has revealed her health fears after experiencing “senior moments”.
Speaking to The Mirror this weekend, Ruth got candid when she said: “All the time, literally all the time, if I ever have a senior moment where I go, ‘what’s her name again?’, somebody that I know quite well, and I have a complete and utter blank, it really frightens me.”
She added: “I’m 65 now, my dad was officially diagnosed when he was 72.
“But looking back on it, we think he was displaying signs, we just didn’t know what they were – but he was in his late 60s and I’m 65.”
Ruth continued: “Of course I worry about it with both parents having had dementia, but I just think, what will be will be.”
Back in August of this year, Ruth opened up about her mother’s diagnosis and how she and her family found it “doubly hard”.
She told Hello! Magazine: “It’s very upsetting when your loved one is given that diagnosis.
“For my family, we found that doubly hard as my dad had Alzheimer’s, so we knew what was ahead for us and my mum.”
Ruth revealed at the time: “At the moment, mum knows who I am, she always recognises me and is very happy to see me.
“I know that that could change at any time, it did with my dad, and that is heartbreaking.”
Discussing her dad’s death in 2017 in an episode of Loose Women, Ruth said: “I was grieving and losing my dad but my mum was losing the love of her life, the man she married and had children with.
“They had years and years of memories.
“You don’t often hear people talking about that side of it.
“When my dad went into care, my mum was so distraught…
“I’m sorry,” she said, getting emotional and wiping a tear from her eye at the time.
The road to becoming the first repeat World Series champion in 25 years was not a smooth one for the Dodgers, who captured their ninth championship in franchise history when they knocked off the Toronto Blue Jays 5-4 in 11 innings of a Game 7 for the ages.
After winning nine of their first 10 postseason contests, the Dodgers had to slog through a seven-game World Series that included two extra-inning wins — one in 18 innings — and consecutive losses at home that put their season on the brink.
But in the end, the Dodgers emerged with their second consecutive championship and third in six seasons. How did they make it happen? Here are some moments that galvanized the Dodgers’ run to another World Series triumph.
A great escape, with a wheel man
Mookie Betts broached the idea of running the wheel play as the Dodgers tried to hang on for dear life in Game 2 of the NLDS against the Philadelphia Phillies at Citizens Bank Ballpark. In a tribute to executing the fundamentals, Max Muncy pounced on a bunt and Betts tagged out the lead runner at third base to help the Dodgers survive the ninth inning and grab a 2-0 lead in the best-of-five series.
Ohtani’s iconic performance
A look at the three home runs Shohei Ohtani hit in Game 4 of the NLCS.
Based on the first inning alone, Shohei Ohtani would’ve produced an unforgettable performance in Game 4 of the NLCS against the Milwaukee Brewers, striking out three in a row following a leadoff walk as the Dodgers’ starting pitcher and then homering as his team’s leadoff batter to stake himself to an early lead. But Ohtani homered twice more — including a 469-foot blast over the right-field pavilion — and went on to strike out 10 in six innings to help the Dodgers secure their second consecutive NL pennant.
Another complete game by Yamamoto
Yoshinobu Yamamoto had already thrown a complete game in Game 2 of the NLCS, the first one by a Dodgers pitcher since José Lima in 2004. But Yamamoto went into more rarefied air when he threw another one in Game 2 of the World Series in a 5-1 win over the Blue Jays — becoming the first Dodger to throw consecutive postseason complete games since Orel Hershiser in 1988.
Kershaw’s moment
The anguish and heartbreak of Clayton Kershaw‘s postseason history is well known, and the Dodger Stadium crowd braced itself when he entered Game 3 of the World Series with the bases loaded and two outs in the 12th inning. In an eight-pitch battle with the Jays’ Nathan Lukes, Kershaw induced a soft grounder to second baseman Tommy Edman that he had to charge and scoop over with his glove to first baseman Freddie Freeman to escape the jam.
The Will Klein Game
As Game 3 of the World Series dragged into the 15th inning, the Dodgers turned to Will Klein, the last reliever in their bullpen — though Yamamoto was later warming for a potential 19th inning. Klein, acquired by the Dodgers in a minor trade on June 2, threw 72 pitches — the most he’s thrown as a professional — over four scoreless innings to keep the Dodgers in it.
Left fielder Kiké Hernández added another chapter to his October legacy in the bottom of the ninth inning of Game 6 with the Dodgers trying to hang on to a 3-1 lead and keep their season alive. With runners on second and third and one out, Hernández played shallow and was in good position to catch a sinking line drive by Andrés Giménez before firing a throw to second baseman Miguel Rojas, who caught it on a bounce to double off the runner at second and force a Game 7.
Miguel Rojas ninth-inning hero
Rojas became the ninth-inning focal point in Game 7 as he came up to bat with the Dodgers trailing 4-3 and two outs away from losing the World Series. Rojas, who had one homer since the All-Star break, worked the count full before hammering a game-tying shot to left. In the bottom of the inning, with the bases loaded and the infield in with one out, Rojas fielded a grounder cleanly and came up firing to force the runner out at home and preserve the tie.
The Catch
One batter later and with the bases still loaded, it was Andy Pages’ turn to be the defensive hero. Inserted mid-inning at center field for his strong arm, Pages found himself using his legs to cover a lot of ground on a deep fly ball to left-center that Hernández was trying to catch over his shoulder before colliding with Pages as the center fielder secured the ball to carry the game into extra innings.
Will Smith, home run hero
As Game 7 entered the 11th inning, it was catcher Will Smith who was in the right place at the right time. Smith, who’d worked his way back into the lineup after suffering a hairline fracture in his right hand in September, turned on a 2-0 slider for his second home run of the series to put the Dodgers in front for the first time in the game.
Yamamoto with the exclamation point
Entering Game 7 during that ninth-inning jam that Rojas and Pages helped him escape, Yamamoto retired the Jays in order in the 10th and then worked around a leadoff double in the 11th, fiedling a sacrifice bunt and then walking a batter before inducing a double play to seal the Dodgers’ repeat championship. For Yamamoto in the World Series, the final tally was three wins, the last coming in relief after throwing 96 pitches the night before in Game 6, and the MVP award.
It was a cold November morning, and I had travelled with my family to our ancestral temple in a village in Tamil Nadu. My sister’s 11-month-old baby was to be tonsured for the first time – a religious head-shaving that in Hinduism is a way of discarding the evil eye and removing any negativity from past lives; a new start.
My wife drove, but asked me to park the car while she went inside with our son and her parents. I walked around the front of the vehicle and slid into the passenger seat. But when I tried to park, I felt resistance. As I pressed down on the accelerator, I noticed a middle-aged man running towards me, waving his arms frantically as he yelled for me to move the car backwards.
My mind raced as I reversed. I prayed silently that I hadn’t hurt anyone.
It was only when I got out of the car that I saw her. The thin, frail woman who now lay on the ground, shaking and murmuring. Panicked, my mind tried to make sense of how she’d come to be there – she must have sat down, assuming I’d already parked – and how badly injured she was. She curled into a foetal position as I sat down beside her and gently placed her head on my lap.
“Does it hurt anywhere, paati (granny)?” I asked.
She nodded, pointing to her leg.
I slowly pulled back the torn sari near her knee. The flesh was missing.
“You’ve been hurt, but we’ll take care of it,” I promised.
“No one will take care of me … just let me sit,” she pleaded.
Villagers started to gather, but kept their distance. One man said the woman slept on the streets near the temple and was often seen begging. A woman chided her for always sitting too close to cars. “If you don’t do something now, no one will take care of her, and she’ll die,” a man muttered before leaving.
Between groans, the woman told me her name: Chinnammal.
“Can you find my bag, thangam?” she asked, using a Tamil term for a loved one that translates to “gold”. She was in pain, but speaking to me, the person who had caused it, with such kindness.
I looked around and found her old cotton bag. It was stuffed to the brim with an open packet of chips, a half-eaten bun, a few 10-rupee notes, and some clothes.
The ambulance arrived, but there was only the driver, and it would take at least three people to lift her safely; we needed another pair of hands. There were close to 25 people around us, but no one moved.
“No one will come to lift her. She’s from a different caste. I have come to do temple rituals – otherwise, I would help,” a priest explained before hurrying away.
My wife, who had by now seen the commotion and approached, stepped forward to help, and together, we lifted Chinnammal into the ambulance. I climbed in with her.
[Jawahir Al-Naimi/Al Jazeera]
I could see from her face that the pain came in waves. I sat next to her, one arm under her shoulders, in a kind of half-hug.
“My bag?” she asked, looking relieved when I placed it beside her hand.
“You are the first person to take me in a car,” she told me, her voice trembling.
She called me saami, a Tamil term that translates to God. I couldn’t understand how she could show me such love and respect. I asked for her forgiveness, but she simply asked me to help her sit up.
When we pulled into the hospital, two nurses in neatly pressed white uniforms appeared with a stretcher. I helped the ambulance driver lift Chinnammal onto it and wheeled her into the hospital. I told the nurses what I knew of her injuries, while they exchanged uneasy glances. When Chinnammal lurched forward and vomited, the nurses scolded her and backed away in disgust.
Inside the emergency room, the nursing manager explained that Chinnammal’s blood pressure and heart rate were high, but she was stable. She had two major injuries – a broken hip and severe grazing that would require skin grafts. Her leg, he said, was not so serious and would heal quickly.
Chinnammal reached for my hands. Hers were small and bony, but her grip was firm. Her eyes flickered, drifting in and out of focus. A soft-spoken doctor told me it was a miracle she was stable after sustaining such serious injuries.
She quietly listened to the doctor speak, but when he mentioned it would take three months for her hip to heal, Chinnammal started to wail.
“I will visit you every weekend, paati,” I reassured her.
The hospital staff took Chinnammal for an electrocardiogram, and when she returned, now hooked up to a heartbeat monitor, she grasped my hands again. She tugged on one. I leaned in. “Ask them to give me medicine to die,” she said.
I assured her that the doctors would take good care of her and that I would be there to make sure of it.
“They won’t,” she replied.
Then she looked into my eyes and lost consciousness.
I grabbed hold of her hand, but it was limp. I fell to the floor, sobbing.
Chinnammal was pronounced dead at 8.30 am on November 20, 2022. She was about 75 years old.
[Jawahir Al-Naimi/Al Jazeera]
Chinnammal’s story
Chinnammal didn’t always live on the streets. As a younger woman, she was impeccably dressed, with flowers woven into her neatly plaited hair.
She hadn’t always begged for handouts either. She worked hard to farm a piece of land for her family, but her married life was difficult. Her husband was an alcoholic, and Chinnammal had to raise her daughter, run the house, and farm their land with little help.
She doted on her daughter and was happy when she married a man from a nearby village. A few years after her daughter married, Chinnammal’s husband died. Chinnammal adapted easily to life as a widow. She enjoyed visiting her daughter and son-in-law and would take them homemade sweets. When they struggled to conceive, Chinnammal worried, but she was overjoyed when they decided to adopt. She loved watching her grandson grow. He became her “everything”.
That joy was short-lived. Chinnammal’s daughter fell ill with a severe form of diabetes. When Chinnammal wasn’t at her daughter’s bedside, she was at the temple, praying for her, or concocting various treatments from herbs that she hoped would help.
But nothing worked, and Chinnammal watched her daughter slowly die.
That was the moment Chinnammal’s life changed. She stopped interacting with people. Some villagers started to harass and steal from her. She once filed a police complaint against a drunk neighbour who harassed her, but the police refused to help. Late one night, when she caught the man near her home, she threatened him with a sickle.
In her grief, Chinnammal no longer cared where she slept, what she ate, or how she dressed. She started to sleep by the temple, clutching her cloth bag close to her.
[Jawahir Al-Naimi/Al Jazeera]
After Chinnammal’s death
A few hours after Chinnammal’s death, I went to the local police station and handed myself in.
A police officer contacted Chinnammal’s son-in-law to release her body and begin the family’s settlement case against me.
Her son-in-law initially refused to claim her body. The investigating officer told me he’d said, “She should have died a long time ago. She was just a burden … You can ask them to bury her and move on.”
But the officer insisted, and the man reluctantly came to the station.
When he arrived, I gave Chinnammal’s bag to the police officer, who inventoried its contents and shared the details with her son-in-law. His demeanour changed. He wanted to claim the body and register himself as her closest living relative, he explained.
“There was close to two lakhs ($2,250) in the bag you surrendered, and now this guy is trying to claim it and the compensation that the government might pay,” the police officer told me.
Chinnammal’s death felt like losing a loved one. I knew I had caused it. But she had shown no anger or animosity towards me. In her final hours, she had treated me with kindness and compassion. She had shared her love for her daughter and grandson with me, held my hand, and spoken tenderly to me despite her pain.
At the hospital, a doctor had tried to console me. “What if you had hit a child?” he’d asked. “Could you live with yourself?”
“She had lived her life,” he reasoned. But his reasoning made no sense to me.
The following day, I went to the temple to help the police with their investigation. As I stared at the spot where my life had changed, a priest interrupted my thoughts.
“You did a good job,” he said. Thinking he was chastising me, I apologised.
“No, I mean it,” he responded. “Nobody used to go near her. Local drunks used to steal the money she collected. So she used to cuss and throw stones at anyone who came near her. She had absolutely no one in this world.”
Even the temple staff used to chase her away, he explained.
“I think she chose to go through you. Through you, she died with dignity, the dignity that was denied to her in life,” he said, urging me to be at peace.
But nothing could give me peace.
I stopped driving. For a year, I withdrew from friends and family. I couldn’t sleep and, when I did, I’d see Chinnammal in my dreams. Whenever I was alone, I would think about her, replaying that day in my mind and wondering what might have happened had I done something differently.
Nearly a month after her death, I was able to track down the contact information for Chinnammal’s 19-year-old grandson. I called to ask for his forgiveness, and he asked me about the last moments I spent with her.
Three months later, at the court hearing, I was found negligent and ordered to pay a fine of 10,000 rupees ($115) to the court. At the hearing, I met Chinnammal’s grandson. I hugged him, and though he barely spoke, I could feel the warmth of his forgiveness – just like that of his paati’s.
In her dying moments, Chinnammal taught me the value of life – every life.
Chinnammal means “small mother”.
A neighbour who had known her said, “She spent her whole life caring for her daughter, and, even in death, she ensured that her family was taken care of [with her savings]. Her mind and body may have given in, but she never stopped being a mother.”
[Jawahir Al-Naimi/Al Jazeera]
This story was told to Catherine Gilon by Maverick Prem. Information about Chinnammal’s life was gathered from interviews with her former neighbours, who asked not to be named. Her family declined to be interviewed for this story.
Maverick continues to pay his respects to Chinnammal at the temple grounds where she spent her final years. In addition to the court fine, he made a voluntary donation to Chinnammal’s grandson.
