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MIKE AND THE MAD DOG STYLE — HERE WE GO!
MIKE:
“Alright, ah-right, we’re back, Mike and the Mad Dog on the FAN, talking ALCS, and DOG—DOG!—you see what happened out in Cleveland today? The Yankees, once again, lay an absolute egg in a big spot. EIGHT to TWO, DOG. EIGHT TO TWO! You can’t make it up.”
MAD DOG:
“MIKEY, MIKEY, LISTEN—THEY GOT POUNDED. Hernandez—WHO IS THIS GUY, MIKE?—throws a COMPLETE GAME, SHUTS ‘EM DOWN, 121 PITCHES! The Yankees got TEN hits, Mikey, TEN! And they scored TWO RUNS! THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!”
MIKE:
“I’ll tell ya something right now: this is becoming a pattern with this team. Every time Cleveland shows up, the Yankees forget how to play baseball. FOURTH INNING, DOG—FOURTH INNING—Cleveland just blows the doors off ‘em. A four-spot. Game over.”
MAD DOG:
“SANTIAGO with the double! ANOTHER ONE LATER! SALDANA with a TRIPLE! Look at this lineup—Phipps, Hughes—HUGHES!—everybody’s hitting rockets! This isn’t the ’27 Yankees, Mike, these Yankees are playing like the ’67 Mets!”
MIKE:
“And Cantu—Cantu!—what are we doing out there? Six runs, six earned, nobody getting big outs. Every inning is a struggle. You’re in Game Six of the ALCS, trying to get to the World Series, trying to win your third title in this universe—and this is the effort?”
MAD DOG:
“AND THE DEFENSE, MIKE! TWO ERRORS! Kim, Centeno—BOOT CITY! Meanwhile Cleveland—NOT A SINGLE ERROR! CLEAN BASEBALL. FUNDAMENTALS! YOU CAN’T WIN IN OCTOBER LIKE THIS!”
MIKE:
“You know what kills me, DOG? Yankees finally get a little something going in the fourth—Rivera with the double, Arispe with the sac fly—they make it s 2-1 lead—I’m thinking maybe, MAYBE we got a pulse. And then? NOTHING. Zeroes across the board. Not a peep.”
MAD DOG:
“HERNANDEZ DOMINATED THEM, MIKE! STRUTTIN’ AROUND THE MOUND LIKE HE’S CY YOUNG! And tomorrow—TOMORROW—you got Game Seven. In Cleveland. With THAT CROWD. GOOD LUCK!”
MIKE:
“And that’s the problem, DOG. You don’t want this thing going seven. Not in THAT ballpark. Not with that fanbase. They were foaming at the mouth today. FOAMING. Every time the Indians got a hit I thought the upper deck was gonna fall off.”
MAD DOG:
“GAME SEVEN, MIKEY! ONE GAME FOR THE AMERICAN LEAGUE PENNANT! And the Yankees—THE YANKEES—have to deal with a team that has beaten them SIX times in recent ALCS meetings! HISTORY IS NOT ON THEIR SIDE, MIKE! NOT ON THEIR SIDE!”
MIKE:
“They better show up, DOG. Because today? Today was a disgrace. The Indians out-hit them, out-pitched them, out-defended them, out-hustled them. You name it. And Hernandez—HERNANDEZ!—I mean the guy pitches the game of his life.”
MAD DOG:
“PLAYER OF THE GAME! NO DOUBT! And tomorrow—OH, BABY—it is gonna be WILD. YANKEES. INDIANS. GAME SEVEN. YOU CAN’T SCRIPT IT ANY BETTER!”
MIKE:
“Alright, back after this.”
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