Dodgers News: New Documentary Relives 2025 World Series from Iconic LA Bar

LOS ANGELES, CA — Since we’re still a little ways away from first pitch on Opening Day, Dodgers fans can be forgiven for rewatching the best moments of last year’s epic World Series run again.

And again. And again.

And, now there’s a totally cool new way to do just that.

If you want one more reason to love this city’s baseball heartbeat, watch “The Greyhound: A Dodgers Story | The 2025 World Series Seen Through a Sports Bar” (linked above). It’s a new short (35 minutes) documentary from 8 Track Media that dropped on YouTube. It’s only been online for a short time but it is already piling up views (it’s been circulating in the tens of thousands).

Produced and directed by Mike Marrone, the film has a simple premise: plant a camera inside The Greyhound Bar & Grill in Highland Park, let the 2025 World Series play out in real time, and let the fans tell you what the Dodgers mean to them. The Greyhound sits up on N. Figueroa in the middle of a neighborhood that still feels like a neighborhood, and the film understands that a World Series run is never only about the innings. It’s about where you watched it, who you watched it with, and the stories that get passed down while the game is on. (the-greyhound.com)

A Bartender’s Dream Come True

Early on, owner Matthew Glassman lays out why this place feels different. He talks about working bars all over L.A., then points to the pull of Highland Park and the short hop to Chavez Ravine: “We’re what, three and a half miles from Dodger Stadium? … This space is a baseball space.” And when he explains the mix of generations who show up—“I get 16-year-old Dodgers fans… and I get a lot of people who were around in the ’60s”—you can hear what he’s proud of: the Greyhound as a relay station for Dodgers memory.

Glassman also gives you the nuts-and-bolts truth of October in a place like that. “World Series games start at 5:00. I got a line at 2:00. A line.” Then he laughs and cuts through any foodie fantasy: “This ain’t because of our wings.” The doc keeps coming back to that idea—people queue up because they want the room, the noise, the shoulder-to-shoulder communion of watching with other fans who care the same way.

And it’s not just the owner talking. That’s the best part. The doc keeps handing the mic to regular people who sound like your cousin, your coworker, your buddy you text in the seventh inning.

A Place for Fans

One Greyhound regular, Eddy, nails the logic of why anyone leaves their couch in 2025: “It’s the environment. It’s the ambiance. It’s the people. … I could stay at home and watch it. I got a bigger TV than this… But great environment here.” Mike, the bouncer, talks about how the job turned casual fandom into something deeper. “My love for it has grown a lot more since I started working here… I’ve always been a fan, but never into it as much as I am now.”

There’s such a variety of voices featured here. From young hipsters to older fans, too—one who connects this whole run back to the beginning of his own L.A. life: “When I came here in ’69, started listening to Vince Scully on a transistor radio… I fell in love with it… it’s intoxicating all by itself.” That’s the throughline the film keeps hitting: the Dodgers as a way people locate themselves in this city.

Then the series tension tightens, and the documentary turns into a time capsule of nerves. You hear the superstition, the bargaining, the gallows humor, the unfiltered confidence that only exists because anxiety sits right next to it. One patron announces, dead serious: “I’m going to get a Dodgers tattoo if we win the World Series… I’ll probably get it on my leg. Actually, I can’t get it on my arms because my arms are cool.” That’s October, right there—half prophecy, half stand-up set.

Relive the Highs and Lows of the Series

Another fan says what a lot of people around baseball have tried to explain for years: “Going back to back is a huge deal for us because we’ve been through it.” And then comes the rawest version of the last decade of discourse, delivered with the tone of someone who’s heard every lazy take and kept every receipt: “2017 happened. Astros cheated… 2020 happened. We won it. ‘Oh, shortened season.’ 2024 happened. ‘Oh, we only won it because we bought our chip.’ … So, I don’t care what anyone thinks. Going back to back, it means a lot.”

That’s the documentary’s sweet spot. It isn’t trying to litigate social media arguments. It’s showing you how those arguments land on actual fans. In an actual room. With actual history tied up in the result. It’s also showing you the variety inside “Dodger fans.” One guy frames it as survival: “The Dodgers have… helped been like a lifeline for me even when I was going through a pretty rough patch.” Another makes it communal and civic: “When they win, the entire… everyone in LA is celebrating it… it’s all of our win.”

And when the game swings, the doc catches that half-second where a place becomes pure sound. One woman says, “In the bathroom and I heard screaming… I literally almost passed out in there…” Another voice sums up the emotional math of the clincher: “When that double play… hit it was like the biggest weight off my shoulder.”

The Best of LA

By the end, Glassman gives you the thesis without dressing it up: “Any bar is a complete product of who comes to that bar.” That’s the film, too. It’s a product of who walks through the door wearing blue. A tribute to the fan who brings his dad’s stories. The one who brings his own hard year. The dude who brings a rally cap he refuses to flip inside out because the hat matters.

So yeah—watch the whole thing. Watch “The Greyhound: A Dodgers Story” on YouTube and run it start to finish. (YouTube) It’s funny, loud, specific, and very L.A. And if you’ve ever wondered why October baseball in this town feels like more than a game, this documentary gives you the answer in human voices, packed into one Highland Park room.