Before bar codes, before StubHub, before we printed tickets out at home and were forced into joylessly scanning them ourselves upon entering a stadium, we had tickets. Real tickets. Pasteboards, ducats, rain checks.

And these tickets were, more often than not, chock full of copious and wonderful details, customized letterforms, and all sorts of archaic references that are seemingly frozen in time. How about background patterns? Like banknotes, these were included in order to fend off potential counterfeiters in the days before photocopiers, much less scanners.

Oversized, beautifully designed World Series tickets still exist today. I have the ticket stubs to the more than 30 World Series games that I have attended, dating back to 1977, and some of the more recent examples are some of the best, colorful and stunning pieces of art. But I get the feeling that the days of actual World Series are numbered, not only because of changing technology but also because of our own wants, needs, and desires for convenience and portability.

Consider this. On October 30, 2013, I was at Fenway Park in Boston, where I saw the Red Sox win the World Series at home for the first time in 95 years. Exiting the ballpark into a raucous sea of celebration, I spotted a piece of paper on the ground. It was an electronically-generated ticket to the game, a souvenir of a historic moment, trampled under foot, sadly discarded. Or not so sadly discarded, because it was an ugly mess, at best. QR code. Bar code. Six or seven dense paragraphs of five point type, informing the bearer that the paper in question is a revocable license, and that the user accepts the risk of injury. See where I am going here? Function sweeps form in four games, Series over.

The earliest World Series tickets were no better than the sad piece of barcoded paper that I have just described, utilitarian in nature, devoid of visual specificity or charm. Things began to change in the late 20s. By the mid to late 40s they really hit their stride. Each participating team was responsible for their own designs until 1974, when MLB took over with a standardized design for both American and National League champions.

Here are some pieces of Octobers past, all much more enjoyable to look at than a QR code.

1940 Cincinnati Reds