LOS ANGELES — David Gilmour and the Los Angeles Dodgers combined forces for a storybook evening at the Hollywood Bowl, as the Pink Floyd legend and the hometown team simultaneously battled for attention and hearts on the night before Halloween.

And, somehow, they both managed to succeed in their quests.

Yet, there was a lot of road to travel before we got to the pay off – which came when the Dodgers would be crowned World Series Champions by besting the New York Yankees from some 3,000 miles away – and it would certainly be filled with plenty of anxiety and uncertainty.

The game began at around 5 p.m. PST, about 2 and 1/2 hours before Gilmour was scheduled to take the stage. So I had plenty of time to watch the early innings from my hotel room at the nearby Best Western, about a five-minute walk to the venue.

Of course, there wasn’t much worth watching for a Dodgers fan early on during this Game 5 held in the Bronx. The Yanks were riding the momentum of their Game 4 victory one night prior and were absolutely punishing the ball early on at Yankee Stadium. Ace pitcher Gerrit Cole was mowing the Dodgers down. And it seemed like a Game 6 back in Los Angeles on Nov. 1 was inevitable.

In other words, it would be a no big deal to turn off the TV and just head to the Bowl a bit early, even leaving plenty of time to check out the mind-blowing array of different $20 bootleg T-shirts being sold outside the venue.

Then came the 5th inning. And, leading 5-0, the Yankees suddenly forgot how to play baseball.

There was that error by Aaron Judge (who was probably wishing he’d signed with his hometown San Francisco Giants at that point). Anthony Volpe thought he could just throw the ball in the general direction of third base and an out would still be recorded. Cole wiped out all his early inning greatness by failing to cover first base.

And, before we knew it, the score was tied 5-5.

Oh, my goodness, this had all the makings of one of the greatest comebacks in baseball history.

But, by this time, it was getting close to 7 p.m. and I needed to bolt for the Bowl.

A quick dash up Highland Avenue and I was standing in line with thousands of other Dodgers/Gilmour fans, who also didn’t know whether to be more excited about what was happening in the Bronx or what was about to take place onstage here.

I’m anything but a lifelong Dodgers fan. I’m an Oakland A’s guy, but – with the plenty of help from John Fisher – I’ve grown more and more interested in the Dodgers in recent years.

They’ve become my NL team, for sure. In part because L.A. is one of greatest cities on the planet. And I’ve never bought into that whole “(expletive) L.A.” mentality that exists in and around San Francisco. I mean, I know that NorCal vs. SoCal is a thing in the Bay Area. But it’s really not one in SoCal, possibly because people down here would rather direct their energy toward riding their bikes along Hermosa Beach, trying out new taco spots in K-Town.

But my relatively newfound love for the Dodgers is trumped, for sure, by my decades-old admiration for David Gilmour – who has been my favorite guitarist since I first discovered The Wall in sixth grade.

So, I was thrilled once the houselights finally went down and the 78-year-old guitar hero began the first of two gorgeous sets of music with “5 a.m.” (from 2015 solo record Rattle That Lock) and then moved into “Black Cat” from this year’s Luck and Strange.

He sounded brilliant. And so did his band. Yet, they weren’t the only sounds to be heard. There was also an ongoing murmur as fans checked scores – about every 5 seconds or so – to see if the Dodgers could finish this thing off. Bits and pieces of information swirled through the venue, whispered from one fan to another as Gilmour and company continued through Dark Side of the Moon nuggets “Breathe (In the Air)” and “Time,” and other gems.

And it was hard to know what was true – or had simply once been true, but had been converted to sheer nonsense by a game of “telephone” by some the 17,500 people at the Bowl.

“Yanks have taken the lead 6-5.”

“Nice! Otani finally got on base due a catcher’s interference call.”

“Oh, no! Judge hit a double.”

“Dodgers are bringing in Walker Buehler to close out the game.”

“The New York fans are attacking Mookie Betts again!”

OK, so that last one was just my sheer nonsense. But you get the point.

Usually, I hate distractions during concerts, especially when we’re talking about shows performed by my favorite artists;  and Gilmour most definitely qualifies. But it didn’t necessary feel like a distraction this time around. It felt more like an addition to the whole vibe and excitement level, as fans seemed to be collectively rejoicing in the fact that they were watching one of the greatest guitarists of all time performing at the signature venue in all of L.A. while their team was on the verge of winning it all.

Synergy, that’s what it was, as the worlds of music and sports collided in a way that was almost too delicious not to savor.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that this was my third time seeing this show – having gone the previous night at the Bowl (for fun) and reviewed the Oct. 25 gig at Intuit Dome. So, I felt I could miss a little bit of “A Single Spark” or “Luck and Strange” (but definitely not “Fat Old Sun”) in order to keep up on the score.

Gilmour was working his magic in grand fashion on – fittingly enough – “High Hopes” when the Dodgers finally got the last out of the ninth inning, securing themselves, for ever more, as the world champions of 2024.

People began rejoicing immediately, screaming out amid the precious notes from Gilmour’s guitar, giving high fives and even spraying champagne on each other like one sees teams do in the winning locker rooms.

The whole thing just felt too good – too storybook – to be true, resulting in what was truly one of the most L.A. moments ever. It was abundance of joy, an abundance of riches, and we all felt lucky to be living in the moment in what sure felt like the very epicenter of the universe.

It was L.A. vs. the world – and L.A. had won this round.

Indeed, it wouldn’t have felt out of place if Gilmour had decided to break out into Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.” Sure, it might have been bad – like hideously so – but not not out of place.

As Newman sings, it did feel “like another perfect day,” one that could have only happened in Los Angeles. Gilmour was the soundtrack. The Dodgers were the team.

But the City of Angeles was definitely the star.