Sports Illustrated MLB Commemorative 2020

THE DODGERS of the last half-decade had been built for worst-case scenarios. They were designed with disaster in mind—depth to navigate any injury, positional flexibility to adjust for any opponent and an enviable farm system to pivot toward any future direction. They were meant to be able to withstand anything. It’s only right that they finally won it all in a year when it felt as if everything was falling apart. The Dodgers’ recent history had turned winning into not just a routine but also a way of being. Their success had made it seem that it was all but impossible to imagine them doing otherwise. They had taken the NL West each year since 2013. And while those titles centered on a reliable core—ace Clayton Kershaw, third baseman Justin…

SAYING THAT a slider has good depth means that it breaks late, that it travels straight for a while—“staying in the same lane as a fastball,” Dodgers manager Dave Roberts explains—before bending through the strike zone. Sliders without depth swerve too early, making them easier to track and hit. In Game 2 of the wild-card round, Clayton Kershaw’s slider was as deep as the Pacific. He and Roberts credited the return of that pitch’s snappiness as the main factor in Kershaw’s dominant performance in the Dodgers’ series-clinching 3–0 victory over Milwaukee. Coupled with a 4–2 win the previous night—powered by a home run by Corey Seager, two doubles from Mookie Betts and six drawn walks—the first course of these expanded 2020 playoffs was gobbled up quickly. But Kershaw’s performance was…

THE DODGERS had been here before—several times, in fact. They had reached the postseason in eight consecutive years and advanced to the NLCS five times in that span. So you can forgive Justin Turner if he didn’t treat the Dodgers’ NLDS-clinching Game 3 victory—in which he set a new franchise record with his 64th career postseason hit—as some grand accomplishment at the postgame media conference. “Records are cool,” said the third baseman. “Championships are better.” While the plot of this movie may seem familiar to Dodgers fans, the cast has never been quite as loaded as this one. The team’s.717 winning percentage is the highest in franchise history (in a 60-game season, but still). The Dodgers led the majors in ERA (3.02) and runs scored (349). They outscored opponents in…

OF THE MANY attributes assigned to the Dodgers in the inevitable emptiness of recent seasons, “scrappy” has not been one of them. With their resources, their payroll and those beyond-white home uniforms glistening in the Southern California sun, the Dodgers give the appearance of being about as blue collar as a Hollywood movie mogul in the back seat of a limo with wine properly chilled. Such was the case especially this year, when the Dodgers treated the regular season as calisthenics and still won the National League West by six games. There are many ways to win a National League pennant. But because of their upper-crust pedigree, the Dodgers won it in the very best possible way for them. Accustomed to playing from out front, they won it by coming…

Seven months after Clayton Edward Kershaw was born in Dallas, Kirk Gibson impossibly limped around the bases and Orel Hershiser sang hymns to himself in the dugout in between mowing down the Athletics with the deftness of a diamond cutter. Eighteen miles and 32 years from his birthplace, Kershaw held his third child, Cooper, in his right arm on the infield at Globe Life Field on Oct. 27 with a smile as wide as a generation. Marianne and Christopher’s kid had won everything in the game but fulfillment. Three Cy Young Awards. An MVP. One hundred seventy-five games. A quarter of a billion dollars in salaries. The respect of his peers. But never had he or his team won the last game of the year since Tommy Lasorda’s irrepressible Dodgers…

IN EARLY SEPTEMBER, Clayton Kershaw went looking for his slider. He had just retired the first three Diamondbacks in order, but the breaking ball felt wrong. So he loped down the steps of the Dodgers’ dugout, turned right into the tunnel and faced the wall that players use for target practice—throwing baseballs when they are satisfied with their performance and stray equipment when they are not. In his left hand, Kershaw cradled a blue weighted “plyo ball.” These training tools have become popular throughout the sport over the past few years, but until recently Kershaw disdained them. This one weighed 450 grams, more than three times as much as a standard MLB ball. He fiddled with his grip. He fired a half-dozen sliders at the wall. Something clicked. He darted…