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Rick “Wild Thing” Vaughn, Postgame Breakdown
October 11, 1916 – PNC Park, Pittsburgh
PHILLIES @ PIRATES — NLDS GAME 3
Alright people, fasten your seatbelts. Because what we just saw out there in Pittsburgh? That was a freaking clinic.
Pittsburgh Pirates 3, Philadelphia Phillies 1. That’s the final, and lemme tell ya — the Buccos came in like they had serious attitude, and they just put Philly on their heels like a rookie trying to hit a Vaughn heater.
Now listen up...
Sean Hughes? The dude was ICE. Seven innings, four hits, gave up just one run, and that was basically on a soft jab. No homers, no damage. The guy didn’t even break a sweat. Like, if I threw a game like that back in the day? I’d be struttin’ off the mound like I owned the stadium. Which I usually did.
And then Carlos Villa — BOOM! Fifth inning, one swing, two runs off Hector Castello. I don’t even think the ball's landed yet. It was gone, baby, gone. That one had vapor trails. I stood up in the press box and yelled “SEE. YOU. LATER.” Security didn’t love that, but hey — I’m Rick Vaughn.
Meanwhile, Philly looked like they couldn’t hit water if they fell outta a boat. Hector Castello actually wasn’t bad — eight innings, only three hits, three runs (two earned), and one huge mistake — Villa’s bomb. But let’s be real, you can’t win if your bats are made of wet newspaper. Five hits, two errors... c’mon. You’re not gonna beat the Pirates sleepwalking like that.
Offensive MVP? Villa, hands down. Defensive MVP? Nobody booted anything. Pirates were cleaner than a fresh shave. And the bullpen? Farley comes in and shuts the damn door. Two innings, zero drama. Just the way we like it.
Pittsburgh now leads the series 2-1. One more win and they’re heading to the NLCS to face the Giants, who just steamrolled the Reds like a freight train full of angry rhinos. So the Pirates better keep this fire burning — because San Fran? They don’t mess around.
Next game’s in Pittsburgh. If the Phillies don’t come in swinging like their careers are on the line? It’s curtains. Pack the bags. Book the tee times.
This is Rick Vaughn, signing off. Keep it fast, keep it wild, and whatever you do — never hang a curveball to a guy named Villa. Trust me.
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