Those Were the Days is a weekly article in which Gamervision employees share video game-related memories. If you’ve got a story of your own to share, please do so! We love hearing from the community.

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I like you guys, so I’m not going to beat around the bush. My old roommate (who you may now know as Raynin Blud) and I used to play High Heat Baseball 2004 for the imaginary cremated remains of Ted Williams. I had just moved to Philadelphia with one of my best friends, and rumors of Ted Williams’ kids fighting over his remains were among the headlines of the time. Instead of playing for who would do chores, or something much more trivial, our rivalry needed to be defined by some spectacular, otherwise unobtainable relic that would inspire envy among those who did not have the trophy.

It was a long time ago, and I don’t remember the exact conversation as to how we decided the only adequate measurement of our hardball skills would be to maintain possession of the legendary lefty’s urn, but we did. That rivalry is about to be renewed, and my quest to return the ashes to the rightful owner, me, is about to begin. Perhaps the best way to describe the Ted Williams Championship Series is by explaining all the other rivalries it overshadows.

You may remember a tale I told a few months back about a short-lived Madden NFL feud, which ended with knives and broken couches. That was nothing compared to the Ted Williams Championship Series.

There was a time when we, as men, decided the only way to determine who was better with a wiffle-ball bat was to have a wiffle-ball bat fight in the backyard. I am not ashamed to admit I somehow lost possession of my bat, which then mysteriously wound up in his hands, as I took my whuppin’ like a man. Or at least until we both decided my getting beat with yellow plastic bats wasn’t the best way to spend a summer night. That was nothing compared to the Ted Williams Championship Series.

Our world-renowned WWE Smackdown rivalry was known as the premiere event on any given Saturday night. The matches that unfolded were truly among the greatest in the history of man. Best known for our “Who’s the Best Hardy Boy?” tussles, or our created character comic book mixed tag belt matches, or any of the countless “Last Man Standing” matches we attempted… come to think of it, the details of those nights are best left for another day. Anyhow, they were nothing compared to the Ted Williams Championship Series.

Perhaps the closest example lies with the nights spent playing a never-ending “Best of” series in NHL 2K5. The “Marshall Plan” and Mike Modano continue to haunt my dreams. If it’s a particularly quiet day, I can still hear the whispers of “Whitney” on the wind. My body grows cold at the thought of reliving those tortuous nights. Our hockey feud expanded over the years to become something else entirely, but that was still nothing compared to the Ted Williams Championship Series.

There’s nothing quite like the one-on-one experience a baseball video game gives opponents. Strategies and play styles must evolve and change constantly. You can never play the same game twice. A pitcher who was absolutely unhittable one evening is capable of being shelled as soon as the next game is started. And no matter what, Pat Burrel can’t hit the change-up. So don’t even try. It’s been too long since my hands held the brass ring that is Teddy Ballgame’s ashes, and it’s something I intend to rectify. Mike Lieberthal has been squatting behind homeplate atop the urn for too long, my friend. It’s time the ashes came home.

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