Article content Even now, when he takes batting practice in the cage across the hall from the Blue Jays clubhouse, Davis Schneider closes his eyes and pretends it’s the bottom of the ninth, seventh game of the World Series, two outs and he’s the batter.

He closes his eyes, the same way he did when he was a kid growing up as just outside of Philadelphia.

He used to walk to the park near his house, see if he could hit the ball over the fence, see if he could win the World Series one more time in his mind. Always in Game 7. That dream never changes.

It’s the way kids play in the purest form of baseball or any other sport.

Nobody ever dreams of winning hits in Games 4 or 5 or 6. It is always Game 7. The game of pure jubilation and devastating heartbreak. The game that’s celebrated and rem

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