Make California Post a Preferred Source The scoreboard’s thermometer read an eye-popping 103ºF when Tarik Skubal took the mound for the Los Angeles Dodgers, and despite the oppressive heat that blanketed Chavez Ravine, I was just happy to be there.
Dodgers tickets aren’t cheap during the regular season, and they can get stratospheric during the postseason. Each progressive round seems to logarithmically escalate in price, with World Series tickets going for more than $2,000.
But on the eve of the first game of the National League Division Series between the Dodgers and Atlanta Braves, as The California Post reported, tickets were as low as $87, which meant the price of entry was 13 degrees lower than the expected scorching temperatures.
Start your day with all you need to know Morning Report delivers the latest news, videos, photos and more.
The ticket prices were reasonable, of course, because it was going to be so insanely hot.
It was a Faustian bargain: Enjoy the athleticism of a generationally talented Dodgers team — but you’re forced to survive the fires of hell.
It was risking heatstroke-hospitalization to see extremely well-paid grown men play a game for children.
Let me walk you through how I rationalized my medically inadvisable decision: Though a lifelong Dodger fan, I’d never been to a playoff game. And two, given the inconvenient fact that I’m a journalist, I’ve never been able to afford a playoff ticket before, either.
The choice was simple. I embraced the opportunity, and seized the face-melting day.
I live on the Westside, so I’m usually tricked into thinking the rest of LA is ten degrees cooler. But the air conditioning in my car stopped being effective when I got to Koreatown. By the time I reached the car queue on Vin Scully Way, I remembered that prepaid playoff parking was $60, which was two-thirds the price of my ticket.
Fans try to beat the heat before Game 1 of the NLDS Saturday, Oct. 3, 2026, in Los Angeles. Wally Skalij for CA Post As I emerged from my vehicle onto the Dodgers’ infamous asphalt parking lot sea, I was prepared. I brought a liter of water (the maximum allowed) in a clear plastic bag (the stadium-required accessory). I had slathered so much SPF-70 on my body, I had become one with the sunscreen, sort of like how the guy in a later “Dune” novel eventually becomes a worm.
To the venue’s credit, the stadium was handing out free bottled water at the entrance — a small price to pay to avoid the bad publicity of a paramedic swarm, I supposed.
And I had been smart about it: Growing up partly in the DC area, my father had taken me to August homestands where the heat and swampy humidity made attending a Washington Nationals game one of the most disgusting experiences you could pay for.
But, as my Dad advised — if you could find a breeze, you’d make it.
So I bought a ticket at the top of the left-field reserve’s upper deck, where the airflow could pass behind me — of course, at risk of an altitudinal nosebleed. But, I’d be protected by the awning.
What I hadn’t expected, and this was my rookie mistake, was that my seat, with the ungodly alphabetic designation of “JJ,” was adjacent to one of the pillars holding up the awning — therefore blocking my view of home plate and the batter.
Contorting myself into a yoga pose, I leaned forward to see just enough out of one eye that I could pay attention, knowing full well my back was gonna hurt the next day.
I had many questions going into the game: Would rental star Tarik Skubal, recently of Detroit, wilt in the heat? Would my car dissolve into slag in the parking lot? Would I make it out alive?
Tickets were as low as $87, which meant the price of entry was 13 degrees lower than the expected scorching temperatures. Wally Skalij for CA Post Some highlights of a playoff game: It was my first time experiencing a military flyover; a B-52 rumbled overhead and cast an ominous shadow. (You know those planes were designed to drop nukes, right?)
It was nice that people were paying attention to the game, instead of trying to engineer a “wave” or pass around a beach ball, as regular season attendees like to do. It was also nice that the Dodgers were winning. The crowd erupted when Teoscar Hernández hit a two-run homer, and booed when Braves catcher Sean Murphy hit a home run to halve the lead.
Around the fifth inning, however, my eyes began to glaze over. Sweat emanated from the backs of my knees. I looked around, and despite the intense heat, you could see just about the entire city from here. In the distance, I could see Mount Wilson’s observatory glimmer in the sun. To the West, I could make out Century City’s towers. And if I squinted, I could even make out Mount Baldy.
Then, in the sixth, a strong hot breeze was blowing, and I felt a lot more comfortable. The breeze also probably helped Kyle Tucker and Max Muncy’s balls leave the yard.
Toward the end, when Tanner Scott almost blew the game, the crowd tensed up. That was the benefit of attending a playoff game: To high-five the stranger next to you after a big play, to collectively groan when the bullpen made a costly mistake. To be part of the big moment, together with other people in this great, vast and complex city.
And I’d never have been able to experience that, had the game not been played at the limits of human habitability.
Meanwhile, Game 1’s winning pitcher, Tarik Skubal, claims he played a Little League game at Lake Havasu in 127ºF.
Now the good news. It’s forecast to be only 90ºF on Friday for a potential Game 5 in LA — if the Dodgers make it that far.
Harrison Blackman is an editorial assistant for The California Post.
California Post News: Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, X, YouTube, WhatsApp, LinkedInCalifornia Post Sports Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, XCalifornia Post Opinion California Post Newsletters: Sign up here!California Post App: Download here!Home delivery: Sign up here!Page Six Hollywood: Sign up here!
