|
MIKE:
Alright, we’re back, Mike and the Mad Dog on the FAN, and—hoo boy—Dog, lemme tell ya somethin’. The Yankees go into Cleveland for Game 1, and it is the same story we’ve seen for years. They cannot beat this team in October. They cannot do it. Cleveland takes Game 1, 5–2, and honestly? It wasn’t even that close.
DOG:
MIKE, THEY DID NOTHING ALL DAY LONG! NOTHING! ZERO! ZEEE-ROOO! Philippon shuts ‘em down, seven-plus innings, four lousy hits! FOUR! You're not beatin’ Cleveland with four hits, Mikey!
MIKE:
Marquos Philippon—terrific. Just terrific. He carved ‘em up. And the Yankees? The offense completely disappears. One real swing all day, from Kim in the eighth. That’s it. You’re not winnin’ an ALCS game on one swing. Not against this Cleveland team. Impossible.
DOG:
AND HOW ABOUT ALFONSO?! THREE HITS, A HOMER, DRIVES IN THREE! The guy KILLS the Yankees, Mike! They can’t get him out! They could pitch to him 'til Christmas and they wouldn’t get him out!
MIKE:
You’re right, Dog. And this guy finished third in WAR a few years back—he’s a star, no doubt. But the Yankees made him look like Honus Wagner today. Jenkins—listen, he battled, he ate innings, but twelve hits? You’re dancing through raindrops the whole game.
DOG:
MIKE, I GOTTA TELL YA—THEY GOT OUTPLAYED! FLAT OUT! BANG! CLEVELAND OUT-HIT ‘EM, OUT-RAN ‘EM, OUT-DEFENDED ‘EM, OUT-PITCHED ‘EM! And the Yankees? They looked SCARED! They looked CLEEEEE-LESSSS! I mean, what else is new against this team?!
MIKE:
This is the matchup. This is the boogeyman. Every year. Cleveland. Cleveland. Cleveland. And unless the Yankees make adjustments—real adjustments—not this “hope the bats wake up” nonsense—they’re gonna dig themselves a hole they can’t get out of.
DOG:
AND LOOK AT THE CROWD! They’re into it! CHILLY day, wind blowin’ out, they’re bangin’ the seats, the whole deal. And the Yankees? They looked like they wanted to go back to the hotel after the national anthem!
MIKE:
Game 2 tomorrow. They need it. They need it. If they go down 0–2 in this ballpark? Against this team? Forget it. Done. Light the candles.
DOG:
OH, YOU CAN PUT ‘EM IN THE OVEN AT THAT POINT, MIKEY! They’ll be COOKED! C-O-O-K-E-D, COOKED!
MIKE:
Alright, we’ll take a break. Back after this.
|