One of the great joys of ticket stub collecting isn’t just owning the obvious milestones — the no-hitters, the 3,000th hits, the perfect games. It’s uncovering the statistical unicorns. The games that make you stop mid-sentence and say, “Wait… how did that happen?”
Baseball, more than any other sport, produces anomalies. Because it unfolds pitch by pitch, without a clock, strange things have room to happen. Over 162 games, the numbers stretch and bend in ways that occasionally create something almost impossible.
Two such games stand out.
June 29, 1985
The Last Major League Game with Zero Strikeouts

On June 29, 1985, Major League Baseball quietly recorded something it has not seen since: a full game without a single strikeout by either team.
Not one.
In today’s game — built around power pitching, high-velocity bullpens, and swing-and-miss analytics — that feels almost unthinkable. But in 1985, contact still ruled. Hitters put balls in play. Fielders were constantly engaged. Outs were earned with gloves, not just fastballs.
This game now stands as the final instance in modern MLB history in which both teams completed nine innings without recording a strikeout. No headline marked the moment. No commemorative patch was worn. It was simply a regular season game that, decades later, represents the closing chapter of a style of baseball that has largely disappeared.
When you look at the box score, nothing appears flashy. But that’s precisely what makes it fascinating. The absence of strikeouts tells a larger story about how the game has evolved — from contact-oriented lineups to the three-true-outcomes era we know today.
A simple ticket stub from that afternoon carries the quiet weight of “last time ever.”
August 13, 1987
St. Louis Cardinals vs Philadelphia Phillies
Zero Outfield Putouts in 13 Innings

If the 1985 game was subtle, August 13, 1987 was downright bizarre.
The Cardinals and Phillies played 13 innings — and the Cardinals recorded zero outfield putouts.
In a full extra-inning game, not a single fly ball or line drive was caught by a St. Louis outfielder. Every out came via strikeouts, infield groundouts, force plays, or double plays. For nine innings that would be rare. For thirteen, it borders on absurd.
Consider the math. Over 13 innings, you expect dozens of balls hit into the air. Yet somehow, every ball in play stayed on the ground or resulted in a strikeout. The geometry of the game tilted entirely toward the infield.
The 1987 Cardinals were known for speed and aggressive, turf-driven small ball. But this wasn’t strategy — it was anomaly. A defensive statistical oddity that still stands as one of the strangest box scores of its era.
There was no ceremony attached to it. No banner raised. Just a date on a ticket and a line in the record books that defies probability.
And that’s the magic of baseball’s odd games. Sometimes history whispers instead of shouts.































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