[jg2977]

THE 9TH INNING OF GEORGE
From the press box of despair, paranoia, and unlikely triumph

So get this... Dallas wins a playoff game. Dallas. The Stars. I don’t even know if they know how. I mean, they were down in the series, they were practically toast, crumbling like day-old rye. And then—boom! Out of nowhere, they score five runs in the ninth inning and walk off with an 8–5 win in Calgary.

I mean, who are these people!?

Let me tell you something, folks—this was not a comfortable win. No, no, no! This was the kind of game that raises your blood pressure, gives you stomach cramps, and makes you question every decision you’ve ever made, including that questionable egg salad sandwich you had before first pitch. But you know what? It was worth it.

George Costanza Hits a Grand Slam. Let Me Say That Again. A GRAND SLAM.
Now I’m not saying I’m the hero, but I’m the hero. One hit, four RBIs. You know what that’s called? Efficiency. You give me one shot, I’ll give you four runs. I’m like the Costco of clutch hitting. Maximum value.

It’s the top of the ninth, bases loaded, two outs, full count, and I’m thinking to myself: This is it. This is my moment. This is why I didn’t go into latex. And BAM! I send that baby into orbit! The ball is flying, the bench is erupting, and I'm rounding the bases like I’ve just stolen a parking space in Manhattan during alternate side rules. Glorious.

Nazem Kadri—This Guy!
Listen, you want to talk about consistent? Nazem Kadri is hitting like he’s being paid in home runs and doubles. Today, he goes 2-for-3, hits a homer, takes two walks like he’s strolling through Central Park, and makes life miserable for the Flames. This guy is so locked in, he could hit a fastball blindfolded with a breadstick.

Pitching? Let’s Not Get Crazy... But It Worked.
C. Kim started for Dallas. He gave up five runs in four and a third innings, walked five batters, and somehow still survived. That’s like me managing to live in my parents’ house until I was 34. Not pretty, but effective!

Then this guy F. Cespedes comes in, shuts the door in the eighth like he’s guarding the last piece of cheesecake, and L. Sanchez gets the save. It’s not what you’d call elegant, but hey—it got the job done. Like Kramer fixing a sink with a spatula.

Meanwhile, in Calgary... Pain.
Oh, Flames fans. You had it. You had it. Up 5–3 going into the ninth, your guys are probably dusting off their brooms, thinking sweep. But no. Then comes Costanza with the grand salami and poof—your bullpen collapses like a cheap folding chair at a family barbecue.

Your manager, Juan Medina? He looked like he just got stuck in a revolving door that won’t stop. Quote of the night: “We didn’t play well enough to win.” Really? You think?!?

A Game for the Ages… Or at Least for the Therapists.
This one had everything. High drama, emotional trauma, and just enough offense to make you forget you haven’t done your taxes. If Dallas can somehow bottle this ninth-inning magic, they might just crawl back into this thing.

But let me be clear: I don’t trust it. I’ve seen too much. They win one game, you start to believe... next thing you know, you’re buying a jersey, they lose three straight, and you’re eating spaghetti alone in the dark. AGAIN.

Next Game? Same Place. Same Chaos.
Scotiabank Saddledome. Game 4. Will Dallas tie it up? Will Calgary bounce back? Will Costanza get another at-bat? (Probably not.) Tune in tomorrow—because you never know when a neurotic third baseman with one hit and a dream will strike again.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down.