Cooper Pratt stood frozen in the swirling smoke of the fireworks, staring at himself on the center-field screen. There was nothing to do but watch, as the cameras spun around him, trapped in time. Jake Bauers had already squeezed the ball shut in his mitt, and the potential energy of 44 years released into the air of American Family Field, the wild call of the crowd mixed with the guttural screams of the players. And then, the waiting.

Tampa Bay manager Kevin Cash had no reason not to review the play, and while Bauers received the ball with half a step to spare, another element came to light: Pratt’s right cleat, sliding off the bag as he received the strong throw from Brice Turang. It was a play that would have stood for more than the first 100 World Series, a casual flourish of footwork that underpinned the gracefulness of the sport. In 2026, the call was overturned; he’d stepped off a fraction of a second early. Everyone had to return to their stations, and with the tying run on third and the winning run 90 feet behind, closer Trevor Megill had to work his own heart back into a rhythm, peer through the fumes for the sign, and face one more batter.

It felt like an impossible moment, as Johnny DeLuca, as anonymous as a World Series player can be, stepped into the box. Impossible, really, for both sides: How could Milwaukee win now, their cheers ripped from their throats, the audience instructed to take their seats? And how could Tampa Bay win, after such a lengthy interruption, the game frozen and unfrozen? If this were their moment, it would have been because Chandler Simpson, who also had nothing to lose, circled third on the double play ball and swiped the tying run against a team already celebrating. Not with him standing on third. Not this.

But the moment resolved, because it had to. Megill soared a few fastballs high, adrenaline and other chemicals coursing through his veins unheeded, but on the fifth pitch he buried a knuckle curve into the dirt, and DeLuca saluted him with one of those feeble, doomed swings, bat held weakly aloft. Megill roared once more, and Cooper Pratt, his shame erased, managed a tired shrug and a sigh. The Milwaukee Brewers had won their first World Series game since before the first use of the artificial heart.

***