Vin Scully watches the man hobble to home plate, slams his eyes shut, and prays.
"Please, God, don't let him strikeout,'' Scully, the Los Angeles Dodgers' legendary announcer, remembers saying. "He's had such a great year. He's led the team and worked so hard. And now that he's on the national stage, just don't let him strike out.''
Scully pauses, his 85-year-old eyes glistening, remembers the moment from 25 years ago as if it happened during lunch.
NIGHTENGALE: Series stirs memories of '85 NLCS
"Never, ever,'' Scully tells USA TODAY Sports, "did I ever think he'd hit a home run.''
Neither did the rest of the free world.
Twenty-five years ago today, on Oct. 15, 1988, Dodgers outfielder Kirk Gibson hit one of the most dramatic home runs in baseball history, a game-winning, two-out pinch-hit homer in Game 1 of the World Series, a walk-off homer years before the term was even coined.
The Dodgers won the game, 5-4, and the Oakland Athletics never recovered.
It is the last time the Dodgers have won the World Series.
"The first thing I do every time I walk into Dodger Stadium,'' said Gibson, "is that I look at that seat. Seat '88, that's what I call it.
"I must have watched it thousands of times now, but my favorite thing is to listen to the radio calls from Jack Buck and Don Drysdale. I have it on a little cassette tape, and keep it in areas of the house. Once in a while, I'll walk by, and just listen to it.
"That was my defining moment.''
It is revered as the greatest moment in Los Angeles sports history, entrenched in the souls of seven men:
The hitter, the pitcher, the manager, the scout, the broadcaster, the batboy, and the fan sat down with USA TODAY Sports, telling their stories about that magical evening.
***
"Well, the man who's been there for the Dodgers all season, Kirk Gibson, is not in the dugout and will not be here for them tonight."
Scully, broadcasting the game for NBC-TV, never envisioned those would be words the words that inspired Gibson to scream at the TV set and slide off the trainer's table.
"We were in commercial break,'' Scully said, "and I said to the producer (Harry Coyle), 'Hey, do me one favor, follow me.' So we get out of commercial break, and we're showing Dodger Stadium, and then I say, 'If you were here, right now, the first thing you would do is look at the Dodger dugout.'''
"Wham, we show a picture of the dugout. And the camera panned the whole thing.
"He's not there. Obviously, he's not going to play tonight.''
Gibson, the 1988 MVP award winner, was in too much pain to even come out for the pre-game introductions. He received two cortisone shots in the afternoon, one for his hamstring and one for his right ankle, and was watching the game in the trainer's room with icebags on his legs.
The moment Scully uttered the words, Gibson screamed at the TV: "Bull----."
He put on nothing more than a jock strap, a pair of socks, and a Michigan Big-Game hunter T-shirt.
He told 25-year-old batboy Mitch Poole to set up a batting tee.
"It did piss him off,'' Poole said. "It was weird that I was even involved. I remember (hitting coach) Ben Hines came walking down past us, and Gibby says, 'Hey, Ben, you want to help me out there.'
"Ben looks at both of us, and says, 'No, why don't you get Mitch to help you.' I'll never forget that.''
"All year long, they looked to him to light the fire, and all year long, he answered the demands, until he was physically unable to start tonight - with two bad legs.''
Gibson, who slept with two pillows under his legs, and couldn't even walk across his own living room hours earlier, picked up a 31-ounce, 35-inch bat, three ounces lighter than his usual, and started swinging.
He instructed Poole to tell Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda that he could play.
"I'm in cutoff jeans and a T-shirt,'' Poole said, "and I'm yelling at Tommy on the bench. And Tommy is ignoring me. I'm going, 'Tommy! Tommy!''
Said Lasorda: "Get the hell out of here, Mitch!''
Poole: "But Tommy, Gibby wants to talk to you. He says he can hit.''
Lasorda ran down the steps like he was 12, saying this week, "I hurried down there, because I didn't want him to change his mind.''
If not for hearing Scully, Gibson says he likely wouldn't have played, but that triggered a fiery emotion, and a challenge.
"It just hit me when he said that,'' Gibson said. "I had a great year, and they counted on me. The fans counted on me. I counted on me. It was just the moment.
"You start thinking, 'Well, nothing against Dave Anderson [who was on deck], but if you go out there, the fans will go crazy, and something crazy might happen. It can't hurt.'''
Said Scully: "I told Kirk that in all of my years with the Dodgers, that was my greatest contribution, getting you off the rubbing table.''
***
"And looks who's coming up!"
Dennis Eckersley was the best closer in baseball with 45 saves, and just 11 walks all season. Now, he was facing the bottom of the Dodgers order: catcher Mike Scioscia, third baseman Jeff Hamilton and shortstop Alfredo Griffin.
Scioscia pops up. Hamilton strikes out. Mike Davis pinch-hit for Griffin.
Davis hit just .196 with two homers for the Dodgers, but all Eckersley remembered was the 22 homers he hit in 1987 when they were teammates in Oakland.
"I had too much respect for Mike,'' says Eckersley. "I didn't want to give him anything to hit.
"It turned out to be a mistake.''
Eckersley looked over at the on-deck circle, and shrugged. Anderson, a career .242 hitter who never hit more than four homers in a season, certainly was no threat.
Anderson retreated to the bench. Out stepped Gibson.
"I was surprised,'' Eckersley said, "totally surprised. I didn't even see him in the dugout.''
The crowd stood on its feet, screaming until their lungs hurt, as if trying to will strength into Gibson's legs.
"Here he comes, hobbling, using the bat as a cane,'' Scully says, "and the crowd is roaring.
"That's when I said a little prayer.''
***
"High fly ball, into right field, she ….is………gone!!"
Gibson, unable to plant his legs with his left hamstring strain and sprained right knee ligament, fouled off the first three pitches he saw. He limped back into the batter's box after each swing. It was painful to watch, even from the Dodgers' bench.
"I remember Orel (Hershiser) was telling people, 'Ah, Gibby, get out of there. Don't hurt yourself. Don't embarrass yourself.'
"I wasn't thinking about embarrassing myself, I was thinking about willing my way to doing something to help the team.''
Gibson, fouling off four pitches, worked the count to full. Eckersley was going into the stretch when Gibson called time, stepped out of the box, and exhaled. He thought about the words uttered by Mel Didier, the Dodgers' prized scout, who addressed the team a day earlier.
"Partner, as sure as I am standing here breathing,'' Gibson remembered, "you're going to see a 3-2 backdoor slider if you see Eckersley in a big situation.''
Didier, standing in the stands by the Dodgers' dugout, watched Eckersley throw the next pitch.
"I turned to my wife,'' Didier said, "and said, 'God, I hope he remembers.''
Eckersley threw a backdoor slider.
"I got goosebumps,'' Didier said.
Gibson swung.
"I wanted to throw something soft,'' Eckersley said. "I thought I was going to trick him. I didn't.''
It sails over the right fielder Jose Canseco, over the fence, and into the bleachers.
"It's incredible he hit it that far,'' said Eckersley, who four years later would coin the term "walk-off" after another blown save, "and flat-footed.''
"In a year that has been so improbable... the impossible has happened!''
Home run.
Bedlam.
"The way it was built up,'' Gibson said, "it was L.A. It was Hollywood. The Natural had just come out, and it was fresh in everybody's mind. The homer kind of mimics the movie.''
Lakers star Magic Johnson, whose team had just returned from training camp in Hawaii, fresh off their fourth NBA title in seven years, was watching the game alone in his living room.
"When he walked to the plate,'' Johnson said, "I was in disbelief. We were in school together at Michigan State, so I knew him, but they had talked about the injury being so bad, I didn't expect him to play.
"When he hit it, I fell out of my chair, and then jumped up down like I just won the world championship myself. I remember talking to Kareem (Abdul-Jabbar) the next day, knowing how big of a Dodger fan he is from the Brooklyn days, just how much it means to the city.
"It was such an unbelievable moment. That's one of the greatest sports memories of my life.''
Who would imagine that 25 years later, Johnson is now part-owner of the Dodgers. Gibson is manager of their rivals, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Eckersley is in the Hall of Fame and a TBS announcer. Lasorda, with his second World Series title, was inducted into the Hall of Fame and is a special advisor to Dodgers chairman Mark Walter.
Poole was immediately promoted to clubhouse assistant, and is now the clubhouse manager. Didier, 86, is in his 65th year of professional baseball, a special assistant with the Toronto Blue Jays.
And, of course, Scully is still an icon with the Dodgers, announcing that he will return for his 65th season in 2014.
"It's the most theatrical home run I've ever seen,'' Scully says. "He couldn't make it out for introductions. He a guy who couldn't run. He couldn't even walk.
"And after all of the window dressing, doesn't he hit a home run?
"Unbelievable. In a small way, we'll always be tied together.''
"They are going wild at Dodger Stadium! No one wants to leave!"
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