You could’ve watched both of James Cameron’s Avatar movies and still squeezed in an episode of Breaking Bad in the time it took for Game 3 of the World Series to finally end. Eighteen innings. Two days on the East Coast clock. A stadium that felt like they aged a decade before they got back to their cars. And then, at the very end, one perfect swing from Freddie Freeman that gave the Dodgers their first series lead.

The game tied the record for longest World Series ever played and felt like it never ran out of storylines — highlight‑reel defense, gutsy pitching, a few head‑scratching choices, and Shohei Ohtani continuing to make his case for the greatest player of all-time. Most fans probably weren't awake to see the swing in real-time, but for the ones who stuck around, it turned into the kind of game that was worth losing sleep for.

Eighteen Innings of Madness

The Early Jabs

Before most fans were settled on their couches, Ohtani ripped a ground‑rule double down the line to start off his incredible night. An inning later, Teoscar Hernández launched a solo shot off Max Scherzer to open the scoring. That made it 1–0 Dodgers and set the tone early: L.A. wasn’t intimidated by high‑octane fastballs, and Scherzer’s margin for error was thinner than usual. By the third, Shohei turned on a 95-mph heater near his hands and sent it screaming over the right field wall — 2–0 Dodgers.

Toronto didn’t blink. Even early, they played like a team that knew they needed to stack ninety‑foot gains. Aggressive leads, smart jumps, and zero hesitation on contact. A perfect throw from Addison Barger gunned down Freddie Freeman at the plate to keep it close, and in hindsight, that moment really could've opened the floodgates early.

The Swing Inning

Errors in marathon games are open doors for chaos to stroll through. A simple infield bobble gave Toronto that sliver of daylight, and Alejandro Kirk made sure it hurt, launching a three‑run shot that flipped a 2–0 deficit into a 3–2 lead. You could feel the energy in the park shift; this team clearly wasn't going down without a fight.

Toronto even tacked on a crucial insurance run on a sac fly from Andrés Giménez. It was proof they could hang with L.A.’s lineup punch for punch, that their approach wasn’t a fluke. For the Dodgers, it was a gut-check moment, a reminder that in games like this, every grounder, every relay throw, and every foot on the bag can be the difference between relief and regret.

L.A. Gets Even

Once Scherzer left the game, the Dodgers wasted no time hunting spin. Shohei stayed locked in on a hanging sweeper and rifled another opposite‑field double with a runner on to cut the deficit to one. The hit had him sitting at 3‑for‑3 with two doubles and a home run — and it was only the fifth inning. Every at‑bat felt like a mini event.

Freeman followed right behind him with a smooth, rhythmic single that brought Ohtani home to tie things at 4‑4. Just like that, both bullpens were on high alert, and the Dodgers’ dugout looked alive again. You could feel that momentum starting to tilt back their way.

The Hold‑Your‑Breath Innings

First, there was a defensive gem from Vladimir Guerrero Jr. — the kind of play that wakes up a dugout. He came off the bag to grab a slow throw coming from short, and fired a laser across the diamond to erase what looked like a sure scoring chance.

The next inning, he flipped the script with his legs. When Bo Bichette punched a single into right-center, Guerrero read it perfectly and never hesitated, churning from first to home with that heavy but determined stride that told you he was scoring no matter what. That run made it 5–4 Toronto — a payoff for all their small-ball effort to that point.

But it didn’t last long. Shohei Ohtani stepped up in the bottom half of the seventh and turned the entire ballpark back on its head. First pitch, middle-middle fastball, and he didn’t miss. Gone to right field in about two seconds. Tie game, 5–5.

The Gridlock Years

From there on out, every half‑inning felt like a movie trailer — plenty of promise, a few jump scares, and then a sudden fade to black. Runners kept popping up in scoring position, both bullpens were emptied, deep counts dragged on, and then out of nowhere came one of the defensive plays of the night: Teoscar Hernández uncorked a missile from right field to cut down a runner at home in the tenth. It was one of those split‑second moments that can bring life back to a tired team.

The Dodgers answered with their own brand of late‑night drama. Clayton Kershaw — with what could potentially be the final pitches of his career — got the call with the bases loaded and two outs in the twelfth. He ended up getting a soft grounder that ended the inning and a real spark that seemed like it would carry over into the bottom half of the inning.

But from there, zeros started stacking up like firewood in the winter. Every half inning had traffic, a walk here, a bloop there, but neither side blinked. You could almost feel both dugouts teetering between exhaustion and adrenaline.

Finally, a Finish

By the time Will Klein finally trudged off the mound in the top half of the 18th inning, the building was running on fumes but somehow still buzzing. He had done his job, grinding through four innings on heart and muscle memory.

Then came the bottom half. Freeman walked to the plate looking like he’d seen it all — calm, loose, but focused. He worked a full count and then got a sinker he could handle and didn’t try to crush it. Just clean contact, perfect timing, and that sweet left-handed swing that Dodgers fans know by heart. The ball traveled 406 feet, and with that one swing, Dodger Stadium finally got to celebrate after a night that felt like it might never end.

The Shohei Show: Power, Patience, and Pure Stubbornness

You can be amazing in a playoff game, and then there’s whatever Ohtani just did. It wasn’t only the two home runs. It was the whole picture: two doubles, two bombs, and then plate appearance after plate appearance where just his presence scared Toronto into putting him on. Nine times on base. Read that again — nine. A postseason record that will likely never be broken.

It messes with a defense when one hitter is a guaranteed baserunner. After Shohei’s second homer tied the game in the seventh, Toronto made a choice: they weren’t going to let him be the headline. So they pitched to the bylines — Betts, Freeman, Smith — and demanded that someone else swing the series.

Will Klein: From “Next Man Up” to “Remember the Name”

Every marathon needs a folk hero, and Game 3’s was Will Klein. Four scoreless innings on the sport’s biggest stage. Seventy‑two pitches. Five strikeouts. One hit. Nothing left in the tank by the time he was done.

What made it special was who he is — not a star, not a household name, just a grinder who walked into a moment far bigger than he was supposed to. Klein was supposed to be a stopgap, the guy you hope buys you an inning so you can think about the next one. Instead, he gave Dave Roberts four scoreless only giving up one hit and striking out five. He went right after everyone all night — no nibbling, no hesitation — just trusting his stuff and daring hitters to beat him.

Each time he came off the field, his teammates got louder, and you could feel the respect growing with every pitch. Those are the nights that stick with a team. Not because Klein suddenly turned into the closer of the future, but because he reminded everyone that baseball still rewards guts, not just resumes.

This Game Drains You Twice

The Dodgers rolled out a small parade of arms — ten pitchers in total. It was a revolving door of arms, and every single one mattered. Klein threw 72 pitches and is effectively red‑lined. Kershaw’s cameo was short on pitches, but he's a starter; the typical “he only threw eight” doesn’t factor in the half‑hour he spent loosening up for a call that could come any second. The middle‑relief group got stretched thin, but that’s playoff life — everyone’s running on fumes, nobody wants to be the one to crack.

Toronto wasn’t much better off. They used every available arm they had. Eric Lauer gave them gutsy length in the middle of the night, Jeff Hoffman emptied the tank, and by the time it was over, both pens looked like a patchwork quilt of effort. You can’t just run that back the next day and expect the same sharpness; even if the arms are technically available, the elastic’s been stretched to its limit.

The Strategic Forks in the Road

• Walking Shohei (Again): The Jays’ “don’t let 17 beat you” plan worked inning after inning — right up until Freeman did. Do they adjust the dial in Game 4, or do they live with the math and trust the process?

• Catcher Wear and Tear: Will Smith caught all eighteen. That’s not just pitch‑calling; that’s sixty‑plus squats per hour. Asking him to strap on the gear for a third game in barely more than a day is asking a lot—no matter how tough or experienced you are.

The Dodgers Tip the Scales

Freddie Freeman has always had that smooth, unhurried swing that looks the same whether it’s April or the eighteenth inning of a World Series game. To end a night like this with a swing like that just felt right. And to make things sweeter for the Dodgers: since 1975, teams that win Game 3 of a tied World Series have gone on to win the whole thing 75% of the time.

Game 4 is coming fast. The bullpens are thin, the stars are heavy‑legged, and the margin is thinner than ever. Buckle up — again.