Eddie & Jaymie Bane
Eddie and Jaymie Bane didn’t just watch one of the greatest moments in baseball history—they lived it from inside Dodger Stadium. During our conversation, I wanted to know everything. Where were they sitting? Who was with them? What made that night different? But what I didn’t expect was how much the place mattered—the way a ballpark becomes a memory, a marker, almost a second heartbeat. From Peter O’Malley’s clean bathrooms to Vin Scully holding court in the press box, this conversation reminded me that stadiums aren’t just backdrops. They’re the reason we remember. And sometimes, they’re what makes it unforgettable.
Eddie, can you explain what it was like working as a scout? Were you at Dodger Stadium much that year, or where were you living at the time in ’88?
Eddie: I wasn’t really well welcomed when I first came over, but I loved Dodger Stadium as a kid. The best experience I ever had there—aside from Gibson’s home run—was one night when Gary Sutherland and I were working late on paper lists for the expansion draft. Everyone else was gone. I walked out and saw Dodger Stadium, empty, but all the lights were on. It was perfectly clean. No crowd. Just ready for tomorrow.
I’ve seen Fenway. I’ve seen everything. But that—standing alone in Dodger Stadium—might be the most magnificent sight I’ve ever seen in baseball.
What makes Dodger Stadium so special, even though it’s the third-oldest in baseball?
Eddie: Peter O’Malley. Best owner I’ve ever been around. When we won the World Series in ’88, he took every single employee—not the players—to Rome to celebrate. He made you appreciate Dodger Stadium. The bathrooms were spotless. The place was pristine. It felt like it had been built yesterday. I’ve played in old Yankee Stadium before the remodel—it needed the work. Dodger Stadium never felt that way. It always felt timeless.
Jaymie, you were 13 when Gibson hit the homer. What do you remember about that day?
Jaymie: I remember walking around the rotunda with my grandpa and dad. We stopped for a picture. Every time I go to the stadium now, I walk past that same spot and think of it. I think we were wearing matching sweatshirts—mine said “Bane” on the back.
My dad basically said, “Bro, you and your brother go to right field. We’ll see you after the ninth.” We were 13 and 10 years old, and we just wandered over there by ourselves. But that was normal. It’s how my dad did things.
Eddie, to share that moment in that place with your dad—how special is Dodger Stadium to you?
Eddie: It’s hard for me to pick between Dodger Stadium and Fenway. There’s something about both that’s just over the top. With Dodger Stadium, that home run—it wasn’t just the home run. My dad, who’d been through World War II, the Korean War, everything, turned to me and said, “This is the best moment of my life.” And I almost cried right there. That was the moment.
What drives that same sentiment for Fenway?
Eddie: Our scouting offices were above third base—really cramped. But you could step out the back door and be standing by the Monster. I’d walk out at one o’clock and see Dustin Pedroia taking grounders. Every day. Pedroia, like clockwork. That rhythm, that constancy—it stuck with me. That was Fenway for me.
Jaymie, what was it like, sitting in right field for one of the greatest moments in baseball history?
Jaymie: Before the game, I asked, “Gibson’s on the roster? Why? He can’t walk!” I mean, he and Kal Daniels looked like they needed new legs. But when he came up to hit, the stadium exploded.
I remember trying to act cool—there were a couple girls nearby. But when that ball left the bat, everything slowed down. At first I thought, “He’s gonna catch it.” But it just kept going—landed maybe 20 feet from us. I couldn’t get it, but I remember the exact spot. The place erupted. I’ve never heard anything like it.
Eddie: I’ll be honest—the only crowd that ever topped it was when Hulk Hogan pinned the Iron Sheik in Phoenix. That place blew the roof off.
[laughter]
But yeah—when Gibson hit that home run, the World Series wasn’t over. But it was over. Everyone knew it. You could feel it.
Do you remember walking out after the game?
Eddie: Looking back now, I’m the idiot who told his kids to go sit in right field for a World Series game. I didn’t even tell them where to meet us afterward. And I’m the most impatient person alive—so I probably left as soon as the ball landed, trying to beat traffic. Which you can never do.
But somehow, we all found each other. You couldn’t get away with that kind of parenting today. But it’s what we did. And it gave us that memory.
Jaymie, do you visit the Gibson seat?
Jaymie: Every time I go. It’s a core memory—something seared into my brain. Because of my dad’s trust in a 13-year-old, I got to experience that moment up close. And every time I walk past that seat, I feel it all over again.
Eddie Bane: As a scout at Dodger Stadium, you’d go to the press box and sit at the scouts’ table. Every single day, Vin Scully would sit with us. He could sit anywhere, but he chose us.
We had a rule: don’t tell your stories—just let Vin talk. He’d sit there until first pitch, telling stories in that voice. It was like being in church. Vin and Peter O’Malley—they were the Dodgers to me.
I actually peed next to Vin Scully once in the press room bathroom. While we were washing our hands, I asked him, “Did you really ice skate with Jackie Robinson?” And he launched into the story. Just me and Vin, in that tiny bathroom. It was perfect.
Eddie: I get it. Buck O’Neil and Vin Scully—they were the two greatest storytellers I ever knew. If you were lucky enough to sit near them, you never forgot it.
NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.