In the fall of 1968, I was a junior at Amherst College in Massachusetts, far from my home in Michigan. The Tigers were making a run at the World Series, and while I was thrilled for my team, I was devastated that I couldn’t watch the games in person with my dad. Still, through long-distance phone calls — sometimes expensive and always precious — we shared the highs and lows of one of the greatest comebacks in World Series history.
The Dream Season
That year belonged to Denny McLain, who posted a record that will never be repeated: 31 wins and 28 complete games. No pitcher since 1934 had reached the 30-win mark, and in today’s world of pitch counts and specialist relievers, no one will ever pitch that many complete games. For Detroit fans, McLain’s season felt like magic — a perfect combination of durability and dominance.
But as great as McLain was in the regular season, the World Series belonged to another pitcher: Mickey Lolich.
Down, But Not Out
The Tigers found themselves trailing the defending champion St. Louis Cardinals three games to one. I remember talking to Dad on the phone, both of us despondent and wondering if this magical season was about to end in heartbreak. The Cardinals had Bob Gibson, one of the most intimidating pitchers of all time, and momentum was on their side.
But baseball has a way of turning despair into hope. The Tigers clawed their way back, with Lolich pitching not once, not twice, but three complete game victories, including the decisive Game 7 against Gibson. Detroit became the first team in baseball history to come back from a 3–1 deficit in a best-of-seven World Series.
A Student, A Son, A Fan
I must confess, my studies at Amherst suffered during that week. But priorities have a way of sorting themselves out — and in that moment, the connection with my father was more important than any textbook. We talked after games, sometimes at length, despite the long-distance telephone charges. Those calls kept me grounded, kept me tied to home, and kept me part of something bigger than myself: the enduring bond of family and Detroit baseball.
Closing Thought
Looking back, I realize those conversations with Dad during the 1968 World Series were just as meaningful as sitting next to him in Tiger Stadium. Even across the miles, sports gave us common ground, a shared language, and a lasting bond.
👉 How about you? Have you ever shared a big sports moment with your dad or child even while you were far apart — maybe by phone, text, or today’s video calls? Did it make you feel like you were right there together?
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