National Baseball League

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25 seasons in the books

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Mike: Alright, good afternoon everybody, how are ya today, it’s Mike and the Mad Dog on the FAN! Thursday, July 1st, 1926—Dog, we’ve hit the halfway mark in the Major League Baseball season, and boy oh boy, these playoff races are tightening up.
Dog: Ohhhhh, Mikey, lemme tell ya, this is great stuff! We got the Yankees in a dogfight—no pun intended—with Tampa and Toronto in that American League East, the Indians lookin’ like a machine out there in the Central, and the Diamondbacks—don’t look now—they’re hangin’ tough in the West tryin’ to defend that title!
Mike: Yeah, Cleveland, Dog, they’re really the class of the American League right now. 52 wins already, they’re 9½ games up. You can’t say enough about ‘em. They’ve got that mix of pitching and situational hitting, and they’ve been consistent since Day One. They’re not flashy, they just win.
Dog: And Mikey, they got that swagger now after what happened last year! They went toe-to-toe with Arizona in that wild World Series, lost it in Game 7, but it gave ‘em that edge. They want it back. You can just feel it. And ya know who’s been terrific? That infield! Alfonso, Saldana, Phipps—they do the little things.
Mike: Yep. That’s a veteran team that’s learned how to win. Now, you mentioned the Yankees—46 and 36, and you can’t complain about that. But Dog, you look at that division—this is tight. Tampa Bay right behind ‘em, Toronto right there too. It’s gonna come down to who stays healthy and who can get that big hit in August and September.
Dog: The Yankees, Mike, they drive you crazy! You know it, I know it. They’ll win six in a row, look like world-beaters, then they’ll drop a series to Boston or Baltimore. They can’t hit lefties, the bullpen’s inconsistent, and I’m not sure Boone’s pushin’ the right buttons.
Mike: Well, they’ve got the talent, Dog. They always do. But you’re right, they’re streaky. They’re not that classic, grind-you-down Yankee team. They’re more feast-or-famine. Still, that lineup—when it clicks—it’s as good as anyone’s.
Dog: And how about the Mets, Mikey? The Mets—41 and 40—.500, baby! Tied with Philly, fourteen and a half back of the Braves. Listen, Atlanta’s runnin’ away with that division, no question.
Mike: Atlanta’s ridiculous. 55 and 25, best record in baseball. They’ve been the gold standard for about three years now. The Mets, meanwhile—they’re hanging around, but they’re not really in it. I mean, they’d need a wild card miracle, but they are only 2 games back of the last playoff spot.
Dog: And the problem with the Mets is it’s the same story every year! They start slow, they tease ya in June, and by the time the All-Star break rolls around, you’re talkin’ about moral victories. You can’t live on moral victories in New York City!
Mike: (laughs) That’s true, Dog. You need results. And they just don’t have the pitching depth. They’ve got a couple of good arms, but compared to Atlanta or Milwaukee? Not in the same ballpark.
Dog: And let’s talk about those Diamondbacks, Mikey. How about the champs? 45 and 37, barely hangin’ on in the West—half a game up on the Dodgers!
Mike: That’s a fascinating race. You’ve got Arizona, Los Angeles, and Colorado all separated by two games. That’s gonna be a war all summer long.
Dog: Arizona’s lineup is still excellent, they can hit, but the pitching hasn’t been as sharp as it was last October. That bullpen’s been leaky, and if they’re not careful, they could find themselves fightin’ for a wild card instead of runnin’ the division.
Mike: But you can’t underestimate a team that’s been there. They know how to win those tight games late in the year. You just wonder if they’ve got enough gas left after that long postseason run.
Dog: And the Dodgers, Mikey, they’re right there! They’ve been lurkin’ all year, waitin’ for Arizona to stumble. You know L.A.—they’ll make a move at the deadline, they always do.
Mike: So let’s sum it up, Dog. In the AL, Cleveland looks like the real deal. Yankees in a brawl with Tampa and Toronto. Houston looks really good too. Over in the NL, Atlanta’s cruising, Milwaukee’s strong, and the defending champs from Arizona are in for a fight.
Dog: It’s beautiful, Mikey. Baseball in the summer! Hot dogs, fireworks, and a three-team race in both leagues. Nothin’ better.
Mike: Couldn’t agree more. Alright, we’ll take your calls—Yankee fans, Mets fans, Diamondback fans—what do you think? Can your team make a move before the break? 877-337-6666, Mike and the Mad Dog on the FAN—back after this.

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AMERICAN LEAGUE
MIKE: Alright, Dog, here we go. The 1926 regular season is in the books, and we got some very interesting developments here, I’ll tell ya. Cleveland—three straight American League pennants—still on top, 103 wins, best record in baseball.
DOG: OHHH HOOOOOO, they’re a MACHINE, Mikey! The Cleveland Indians — four straight years of dominance! That’s a dynasty in the making! They’ve been runnin’ through the AL like the ‘98 Yankees!
MIKE: Well, maybe not that level, Dog, but they’ve been the class of the league, no question. They get the bye, as do the Astros. And look, that Houston team right behind ‘em, 102 wins — that’s no joke either.
DOG: Oh no doubt, Mikey. You look at that rotation — Verlander, Framber Valdez, whoever they got this year — they always find a way! You gotta give ‘em credit. But Mikey, lemme tell ya somethin’… the Yankees are BACK. 98 wins, Aaron Judge hittin’ moonshots, Gerrit Cole pitchin’ like the ace they paid for, and ya know what? They’re dangerous in October.
MIKE: They are, but they got a tough draw. They’re playin’ Minnesota, Dog. And you know that’s got all the old ghosts — the Twins never beat the Yankees in the postseason, but listen—this is 1926, you never know. Maybe the jinx finally ends.
DOG: AWW STOP IT MIKEY, C’MON! THE TWINS? They’re NOT beatin’ the Yanks. Never have, never will! The Yankees are too deep, they mash, they got bullpen arms for days! Boone’s gonna screw something up, sure, but they’ll get through that series!
MIKE: I’ll tell you though, Cleveland’s sittin’ there nice and rested, waitin’ for whoever comes out of that side. And you got Detroit and Texas, two teams nobody’s talked about all year, squarin’ off.
DOG: Yeah, that’s a weird one, Mikey. Texas — good lineup, not much pitchin’. Detroit — scrappy team, good young players, but they’re not scarin’ anybody. That’s like one of those “thanks for comin’” Wild Card series. Whoever wins, they’re goin’ home in the next round.
MIKE: Yeah, I’d agree. You get Houston waiting there, that’s a buzzsaw.
DOG: Mikey, the AL’s got some heavyweights! Cleveland, Houston, the Yankees — those are your big three. The rest are just happy to be here.

NATIONAL LEAGUE
MIKE: Now Dog, the National League… we got some shakeups here. Milwaukee — 103 wins, top seed, just a model of consistency. Craig Counsell’s boys doin’ it again.
DOG: Oh, they’re terrific, Mikey. They pitch, they defend, they play fundamental baseball. Remind me of the old Braves of the ‘90s — but WITHOUT the rings! They gotta win one, Mikey. You can’t keep doin’ this every year and bowin’ out in the NLCS!
MIKE: That’s true. Then you got Atlanta, 97 wins — Ronald Acuña Jr., Matt Olson, that offense is loaded. They get the bye too.
DOG: OH BABY, THAT’S THE TEAM! You talk about star power, Mikey? Acuña, Riley, Olson — they’re a modern Murderers’ Row! They’re the team ya don’t wanna face in a short series!
MIKE: And then here comes Arizona. 93 wins, the defending champs. Dog, they didn’t fall off! That’s impressive.
DOG: Oh they’re legit, Mikey! That’s a gritty ballclub! Carroll, Moreno, Gallen — they got heart! You don’t win the World Series by accident, Mikey! Now they’re goin’ against the Cubs — the Cubbies had a nice year, 87 wins, they’re scrappy too — that’s a fun series!
MIKE: And don’t sleep on the Dodgers. 92 wins, just one back of Arizona, they’ll face the Pirates. Dog, I’m tellin’ ya, that’s dangerous.
DOG: Oh that’s a sneaky matchup! The Pirates had their best year in forever, Mikey. 88 wins, good young team, but THIS is the Dodgers! Betts, Freeman, they’ve been there before. They’ll handle it.
MIKE: I’ll tell you, though — Milwaukee and Atlanta sittin’ pretty at the top, both want revenge for how things ended last year. And Arizona’s playin’ with confidence. That National League’s wide open.

PREDICTIONS
DOG: AL? Easy, Mikey. Yankees beat the Twins, Astros beat the Tigers, Yankees beat the Astros, then Cleveland takes out the Yankees in a seven-game classic! FOUR STRAIGHT PENNANTS for the Tribe!
MIKE: You’re goin’ chalk, Dog. I think it’s the year Houston gets back to the Fall Classic. They’ve been waitin’ for this.
DOG: You think they beat Cleveland??
MIKE: I do. I think Cleveland finally runs outta gas. Four straight deep runs, it catches up to ya.
DOG: Fair! But I’m stickin’ with the champs of the AL, baby.
MIKE: National League, Dog — I’m goin’ Milwaukee over Arizona. They’re too deep, too consistent.
DOG: I’m takin’ the Braves, Mikey! That lineup’s too powerful. Braves over Brewers, Braves over Cleveland — ATL gets their revenge tour, BABY!
MIKE: And I’ll go the other way. Astros over Brewers. It’s a rematch of 2019 when they were both in opposite leagues, and Houston wins it all.
DOG: OHHHHHH STOP IT! You love those Astros, Mikey! You always love ‘em!
MIKE: I respect excellence, Dog.
DOG: (laughing) Excellence — and a little buzzin’ in the dugout, maybe!
MIKE: Don’t start. Don’t start that, Dog.
DOG: Oh, I’m startin’ it, Mikey!!
MIKE (closing): Bottom line, folks, this postseason’s got storylines everywhere — Cleveland chasing history, the Yankees back in the mix, the champs from Arizona tryin’ to defend, and those Milwaukee Brewers lookin’ to finally break through.
DOG: October baseball, Mikey — ya can’t beat it! Let’s PLAY BALL!!!

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MIKE: ALRIGHT DOG, WE GOTTA TALK ABOUT THIS ONE. The Minnesota Twins — the 83-and-79 Twins, who haven’t sniffed the postseason in nine years — they go into Yankee Stadium and pound the Yankees, 8–4!
DOG: OHHHHH BABYYYY, HOW ABOUT THAT, MIKEY?! THE TWINS! THE TWINS!!! This is a franchise that gets to October and melts! MELTS every single time against the Yankees! And now? They’re the ones deliverin’ the heartbreak! WHAT A TURNAROUND!!!
MIKE: You couldn’t make this up, Dog. The Yankees, 98 wins, all the hype, big crowd, 43,000 people in the Bronx — and for five innings, everything’s goin’ according to plan. Cantu’s dealin’! Two–nothing lead! Crowd’s buzzin’!
DOG: AND THEN IT HAPPENED, MIKEY — THE SIXTH INNING! BOOM! It’s like someone flipped a switch! Cantu hits the wall! Six runs! SIX! And the Twins start runnin’ around the bases like it’s the Fourth of July!
MIKE: Martinez — Roberto Martinez — that triple in the gap, that was the dagger, Dog. Runners on first and second, one out, he drives it to left-center, both runs score, and it’s 5–2, Minnesota. You could feel the air just get sucked right outta Yankee Stadium.
DOG: OH IT WAS DEAD, MIKEY! DEAD! The only noise was from the guys sellin’ peanuts! I’m tellin’ ya, it was like the old days when the Red Sox used to come in and stun ‘em. And how about this kid — Brett Krukow — TWO for five, three RBIs, a homer in the ninth for good measure! He KILLED ‘EM!
MIKE: He was great. You tip your cap. He played like a guy who’s been in October a dozen times. Meanwhile the Yankees — look, they made errors, they couldn’t get the big hit. One run in the sixth, one in the ninth, but by then it’s too late.
DOG: That’s right! They looked flat! And this Cantu, Mikey — listen, I don’t wanna kill the kid, he pitched well early — but you can’t just implode like that in a postseason game! You’re the Yankees, for cryin’ out loud! You gotta finish!
MIKE: He had a 2–0 lead through five, Dog. Then it’s walk, single, triple, double — boom, boom, boom — six on the board before you blink. You can’t have that. Not in October.
DOG: Exactly, Mikey! And now you got pressure. BIG pressure. Tomorrow’s a must-win. You got one more in the Bronx — you lose that, and the Minnesota Twins — the “we can’t ever beat the Yankees” Twins — are movin’ on! You imagine that, Mikey?
MIKE: It’d be one of the great upsets, Dog. 98-win Yankees, gone in two games to a team that barely finished over .500.
DOG: Oh it’d be a DISASTER! They’ll be burnin’ talk radio in New York to the ground tomorrow! “FIRE BOONE!” “TRADE JUDGE!” “WHY DIDN’T WE SIGN A PITCHER!” You can hear it already, Mikey!
MIKE: Look, they’ll have to respond. You can’t come out flat again. You got too much talent. Rivera had two hits, Arispe had a double, Lord drove in a run late — but they need the big guns to step up.
DOG: Yep. No excuses. And give the Twins credit — that’s a team win. Ten hits, clutch hits, no errors, clean defense. That’s how you win on the road in October.
MIKE: Game 2 tomorrow, same place, season on the line for the Yankees. Dog, this is the kind of thing that makes baseball great — total chaos, underdogs, stunned crowds, tension everywhere.
DOG: Absolutely, Mikey! It’s what makes the postseason magical. You think you got it all figured out — the Yankees’ll cruise, Cleveland’ll roll, Houston’ll do their thing — and then the 83–79 Minnesota freakin’ Twins come into the Bronx and smack ya right in the mouth!
MIKE: That’s playoff baseball, Dog.
DOG: PLAYOFF BASEBALL, MIKEY!!! YOU CAN’T BEAT IT!!!

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JOE BUCK (bottom 9th, crowd roaring):
“And here we go… two outs, bases empty, tied at three. Danny Martinez at the plate — he’s been the guy all day for Texas. Three hits already… trying to make it four.”
SMOLTZ:
“He’s seen the ball well, Joe. He’s been patient, he’s been short to the baseball, and if you’re Ethan Childress, you gotta be careful here. You miss middle, this game might end right now.”
JOE:
“The 1-0… line drive, right field… base hit! Guerrero rounds third, he’s coming home! The throw from Macario… not in time! And the Rangers walk it off in Game 1!”
(Crowd erupts. Martinez pumps his fist as his teammates flood the field.)
JOE (rising over the noise):
“Danny Martinez — the veteran first baseman — delivers a walk-off single, and Texas takes a 1–0 series lead! What a moment here in Arlington!”
SMOLTZ:
“That’s just a professional at-bat right there, Joe. Martinez never panicked, stayed on that fastball, went right back up the middle — simple, compact swing — and that’s how you win postseason games. The Tigers played well, they really did, but in the ninth, Texas found their guy.”

JOE (after the highlight replay):
“You said it earlier, John — Martinez had been locked in all afternoon. He finishes three-for-four, drives in three of the four Ranger runs, and for a Texas club that’s been streaky offensively, this was the kind of tone-setter they needed.”
SMOLTZ:
“Yeah, and remember — Detroit hadn’t been here in fourteen years. A lot of those guys are feeling playoff pressure for the first time. They had chances — 12 runners left on base, couldn’t get that big knockout hit. Pedraza was terrific — two triples, drove in a run, tied a record — but at the end, it’s the little mistakes that hurt ‘em.”
JOE:
“Childress came in trying to protect a tie, and you can see him shake his head there — missed his spot, left it out over the plate. Martinez made him pay.”
SMOLTZ:
“And give credit to the Rangers bullpen. Tucker battled through seven tough innings — a hundred and thirty-eight pitches — not his sharpest, but he kept them in it. Then Matarazzo and White come in and lock it down. That’s what you need in October: your bullpen finishing the job.”
JOE (cutting to postgame shots of fans celebrating):
“So the Texas Rangers, behind Danny Martinez’s walk-off single, take Game 1 of this Wild Card Series, 4–3. A heartbreaker for Detroit, who will now have to win tomorrow to keep their season alive.”
SMOLTZ:
“Yeah, and now the Tigers have to reset fast. You lose a game like this — where you outhit ‘em, you get great starting pitching, you feel like you should’ve won — that’s a tough one. But that’s playoff baseball. It’s about who executes in the final three outs.”
JOE (smiling):
“And for the Rangers, they execute, they celebrate, and they’re one win away from moving on. Final score: Texas 4, Detroit 3, on a Danny Martinez walk-off single in the ninth.”
SMOLTZ:
“Can’t script it any better.”
JOE:
“Nope. We’ll see you tomorrow, right back here in Arlington. For John Smoltz, I’m Joe Buck — thanks for spending your afternoon with us. The Rangers walk it off, and October delivers again.”

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NL Wild Card #1

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NL Wild Card #2

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PHIL RIZZUTO-STYLE GAME RECAP
(“HOLY COW!” BASEBALL POETRY FROM THE BOOTH)
Well, holy cow, folks, what a day in the desert! If you like noise, excitement, and a little bit of chaos, this one at Chase Field had it all. The defending champion Diamondbacks—boy, they don’t look like they’re ready to give that crown up anytime soon—took Game 1 from the Cubbies, 8–5, and let me tell ya… it was a dilly!
“AND RIGHT FROM THE START—BAM!”
Top of the first, the Cubs didn’t score, but the D-Backs came right back with a triple by Flores—triple, triple, triple!—and they scratch one across. Always good to get that early run in a playoff game. Takes the pressure right off your shoulders.
But the third inning? Yikes! The Cubs come stormin’ in—three runs just like that. Rivera smacks a double, Armendariz knocks in two… I said, “Holy cow, this might be one of those wild afternoons.”
MONTES! THIS GUY CAN HIT!
But then here come the Diamondbacks in the fifth. It’s 5–1 Cubs and the fans are gettin’ a little antsy, maybe even thinkin’ about beating the traffic. But no sir!
Montes—Austin Montes, from Statesville, North Carolina, nice part of the country—BOOMS a double into the gap! Clears the bases! And then Salvoldelli puts one into the seats! Goodbye, Mr. Spalding!
Suddenly it’s 5–5, and the roof is shakin’. I had to hold onto my scorecard!
JASON GONZALEZ — A REAL PEPPER POT!
Bottom of the seventh, here we go. Crowd’s standin’, clappin’, stompin’… you can’t even hear yourself think. One out, bases loaded, tense as a subway platform at rush hour.
Gonzalez steps in—Jason Gonzalez, the guy with the OPS numbers that make accountants jealous.
Whack! He rips a double down the line! THREE runs in! The place goes bananas! The Diamondbacks go up 8–5 and you could almost hear the Cubs say, “Oh boy…”
That was the big blow, the killer, the clincher, the old “pack-your-bags” inning.
THE PITCHING — HOLD ONTO YOUR HAT
Bojorquez—nice job, kid. Seven innings, kept it together, fielded his position, threw strikes. That’s what you want in a playoff game. And Felipe? Two innings, no hits, no walks—nothing! That’s how you slam the door.
The Cubs pitchers? Ehh… they tried. But too many balls left over the plate. Balliett gave up five, L. Gonzalez gave up three, and when the Diamondbacks smell blood, forget it.
FINAL: DIAMONDBACKS 8, CUBS 5
Time of game—2:26. Nice little afternoon tilt. Weather was perfect, crowd over 43,000, and they sure got their money’s worth.
The player of the game? Austin Montes!
Two hits, two RBI, scored twice, and started the comeback. He even laid down a bunt! Gotta love a kid who can slug AND play smart baseball.
RIZZUTO’S PARTING THOUGHTS
The Diamondbacks take Game 1, and if I were the Cubs, I’d be saying some prayers on the way back to the hotel. One more loss and you're finished.
But hey—this is baseball. You never know. That’s why they play the games.
Alright, I gotta get outta here—traffic on the 10 is brutal.
Holy cow! What a ballgame!

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VIN SCULLY–STYLE BROADCAST RECAP
A gentle, poetic retelling from the voice in the Dodger blue booth
On a pleasantly cool October afternoon in Los Angeles, with the sun drifting softly over the San Gabriels and the shadows stretching across the infield like lazy cats, the Pittsburgh Pirates came into Dodger Stadium and played a game as clean and sharp as the white chalk down the baselines. And as so often happens in baseball, a sport that can be cruel or kind depending on the inning, the Dodgers were left this time with the crueler half: a 9–3 Pittsburgh win in Game 1 of the Wild Card Series.
You could sense early, though, that this game was going to take its own distinctive shape. Baseball loves rhythm, and this one had the rhythm of a slow-building storm.
“A BASEBALL JOURNEY FROM CARACAS TO LOS ANGELES”
The story of the afternoon belonged to Jonathan Gonzales, the Pirates’ designated hitter from Caracas, Venezuela, who brought with him not only three singles, two runs scored, and two driven in, but the steady tempo of a player who seemed to know exactly what the moment required. Five trips to the plate, three sharp hits… nothing flashy, nothing towering—just the sort of hitting that wins games in October.
And behind him, not far behind, was Darrell Verni.
Verni is one of those players who always seems to be in motion, even standing still—quick hands, quicker feet, and a certain spark behind the eyes. Today he tripled twice, each one rattling off the wall with the kind of authority that leaves outfielders sighing. He drove in three, scored one, and stole a base just for good measure. For Verni, this was a game played on roller skates.
“THE BIG INNINGS THAT TURNED THE TIDE”
The Pirates didn’t score in the first three innings, but when the fourth arrived—well, baseball often waits for just the right moment to reveal its intentions.
A triple by Verni brought home a run, and suddenly the Pirate dugout sat a little taller. The next inning, another three-run burst. And then, in the sixth, two more. Like waves breaking on the same patch of beach—relentless, rhythmic, unmistakable.
The Dodgers did push back. A run in the first, another in the sixth, and one more in the seventh. But they were never able to mount the kind of attack that changes the temperature in a ballpark. Ten hits scattered, twelve men left on base—the promise was there, but the breakthrough never came.
“THE PITCHER WHO BENT BUT NEVER BROKE”
Tommy Loder, the veteran right-hander for Pittsburgh, threw 137 pitches—137!—in an era when most pitchers start to glance nervously at their manager by pitch 95.
He gave up ten hits but walked off the field having allowed only three runs. The Dodger hitters reached him, but they rarely hurt him. It was, in its own way, a portrait of stubbornness. And in October, stubbornness is often as valuable as velocity.
Israel Arcos closed the book with 1.2 innings of hitless, scoreless relief, and if the Pirates advance deeper into this postseason, those quiet innings may be remembered long after today’s sunlight has faded.
“DODGER MISSTEPS AND MISFORTUNE”
Errors will always find a way to magnify themselves in playoff baseball, and the Dodgers made three of them. One here, one there, another at just the wrong time—and suddenly promising innings became stranded opportunities.
Even so, there were bright spots:
Eric Watt with three hits, Dakota Milar with two and a double, Nate Schwab with a sacrifice fly and a flash of promise. But baseball is a game of small windows, and today those windows closed just a bit too quickly.
“FINAL THOUGHTS FROM A SETTING SUN”
And so, with the last out recorded and the crowd reluctantly filing out into the late-afternoon light, the Pirates walk away with a 1–0 lead in this best-of-three. Darrell Verni ties a playoff record with two triples. Jonathan Gonzales plays the role of steadying force. And Pittsburgh, a team that has known its share of October heartache, stands one win away from advancing.
Tomorrow, the two teams will do it all again—new shadows, new hopes, new stories waiting to be told.
As always in baseball…
“There is nothing more exciting than what might happen next.”

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On an autumn afternoon in the Bronx—cool, gray, the kind of October day that seems pulled straight from baseball’s ancestral scrapbook—the New York Yankees reminded a sellout crowd of 43,000 why, for all their recent stumbles, they remain one of the sport’s enduring October institutions.
There was an atmosphere in Yankee Stadium today that felt almost ceremonial, as if the game itself understood that the series—tied now at one game apiece—needed a moment of definition. And it found it in the poised right arm of Sean Jenkins, the 31-year-old from Morgan Hill, California. Jenkins did not overpower the Minnesota Twins so much as outthink them, outlast them, and ultimately outclass them. Seven innings, four hits, just one run. The line score is impressive. The performance was something more—measured, mature, almost timeless. You could sense that the stadium, restless yesterday, exhaled with every out he recorded.
The Yankees’ offense, quiet in Game 1, awakened with the sudden clarity of a team reminded of its better self. A three-run third inning set the tone—a mix of sharp contact, aggressive baserunning, and a few of those October bounces that have echoed through this ballpark before. Later, a solo blast from O. Arispe in the sixth added punctuation. By the eighth inning, when New York struck for four more, the game had taken on the familiar cadence of a Yankee postseason home victory: confident, loud, and increasingly inevitable.
For Minnesota, a team that has so often carried the weight of October frustrations, there were only scattered highlights—a triple by R. Martinez, a pair of crisp doubles, a lone RBI from T. Horowitz. Moments, yes. But not enough of them.
As for New York, this was the sort of game that reminds you why postseason baseball is unlike anything else in American sport. The tension in the early innings. The explosion of noise on a big hit. The way a crowd seems to swell and breathe as one living thing when its pitcher bends but does not break.
Tomorrow, these two teams will meet again, in this same cathedral of baseball. One team trying to keep its season alive. The other trying to push forward into the deeper waters of October—waters in which the Yankees have swum for generations.
Tomorrow’s game, poised delicately on the edge of October’s unforgiving stage, will either see the Yankees extend their long and winding quest toward a 3rd crown, or deliver the Twins a chance to author one of those rare, seismic upsets that can bend the entire arc of a postseason.

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On a crisp October afternoon deep in the heart of Texas, where the retractable roof framed the autumn light like a proscenium arch, the Rangers authored a performance equal parts precision and bravado—one that carried them past the Detroit Tigers and into the next chapter of this unfolding postseason drama.
Globe Life Field, still new enough to gleam but already seasoned by its share of October nights, played host to a decisive 9–3 Texas victory. And from the outset, the Rangers displayed the energy of a team determined not merely to advance, but to assert themselves. Three runs in the first, another in the second, a steady drumbeat of offense that seemed to say: Today will belong to us.
At the center of it all was Tony Guerrero of Puerto Armuelles, Panama, the kind of postseason revelation you can almost hear future broadcasters referencing years from now. He hit .556 over the brief series, delivered a towering home run in this clincher, and moved around the bases with the quiet confidence of someone who understands the moment without being overwhelmed by it. If October is the month in which unlikely heroes often emerge, Guerrero stepped forward with unmistakable clarity.
Detroit, for its part, did not go quietly. Eleven hits, several struck hard, a pair of doubles from Krueger and Pedraza that briefly hinted at drama. But this afternoon belonged to Texas, whose 15-hit barrage and crisp defensive play never allowed the Tigers more than a passing sense of possibility.
There was an inevitability to the final frames, as if the Rangers—mindful of what lay ahead—were already imagining the towering task before them: a Division Series showdown with the three-time defending American League champion Cleveland Indians. The champions who have come to define this era. The team that has set the standard to which all others, including Texas, must aspire.
For now, though, as the last outs settled into leather and 47,000 fans rose in appreciation, the Rangers had earned their moment of satisfaction. A sweep. Momentum. And the promise of a clash with the dynasty from Cleveland—another October stage set, another story waiting to be told.

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Well, dere we were—Da Cubbies—headin’ into Arizona, facin’ da Diamondbacks in Game Two o’ da Wild Card, an’ let me tell ya… DA BULLS—DA BEARS—DA CUBS! Dose sneaky snakes didn’t stand a chance.
Right off da bat, ya got young Eric Boyce on da mound. Dis kid? Dis kid’s got da stuff. Seven innings, two lousy hits, one run. I ain’t sayin’ he’s Greg Maddux… but I ain’t not sayin’ it either.
Den in da seventh inning—BOOM! Vinny Rodrigues comin’ off da bench like he just polished off a Polish sausage an’ said, “Put me in, coach, I’m feelin’ dangerous.” One pitch, one swing, DOUBLE! Cubs take da lead, Arizona fans start cryin’ into dere cactus water. Classic moment.
An’ den ya got B. Guggenheim drivin’ in another one—Guggenheim! Dat’s a name ya put on a museum, not an RBI column, but hey, whatever works!
Final score: Cubs 3, Diamondbacks 1.
Series tied. Momentum shiftin’. Da Cubbies are back in business.
Tomorrow? One more in Arizona. Winner moves on. And lemme tell ya somethin’:
If Boyce pitches like dat again… if Vinny comes off da bench like a Polish sausage-fueled superhero… I like our chances.
CUBS… IN THREE!

[jg2977]

On a cool, partly cloudy afternoon in Los Angeles, it was the kind of day when baseball seems to breathe right along with you—slowly at first, then all at once. And on this October 8th, in the tenth inning of a 1–1 game, the Dodgers and Pirates found themselves locked in that timeless embrace, each pitch carrying the weight of a season, each swing echoing the hopes of two cities.
Donny van Meel, the tall right-hander with the easy delivery, had given Los Angeles everything they could’ve asked for—six and two-thirds innings of courage, guile, and a fastball that behaved like an old friend, always arriving right on time. Across the way, young Fernando Tijerina matched him nearly pitch for pitch, and so the two clubs marched into extra innings, their fates suspended between the shadows creeping across the infield dirt and the roar of 47,000 anxious spectators.
And then, in the bottom of the tenth, with the winning run ninety feet away, it came down to Willie Cortez—the designated hitter, the veteran. A sacrifice fly is rarely the subject of legend. It is, in most cases, a modest swing, a quiet contribution. But on this day, in this inning, it was something more. Cortez lifted a ball deep enough to center field, deep enough to send the crowd rising as one, deep enough to send the Dodgers back into this series with a walk-off win.
It was not loud or dramatic or defiant. It was simply… enough. A small reminder that in baseball, as in life, the difference between heartbreak and hope can be the span of a single, soaring arc.
Tomorrow, these two teams will meet again, and once more the game will ask its eternal question: who will rise, and who will fall?
But today… the Dodgers walked off the field winners, 2–1, and the story—ah, the beautiful story—goes on.

[jg2977]

On a crisp October afternoon in the Bronx, with the wind pushing fly balls toward the left-field seats and history hanging somewhere above the frieze, the New York Yankees did what this franchise has done so many times before: they found a way. A 7–2 victory over the Minnesota Twins, and with it, a hard-earned ticket to the Division Series—keeping alive their quest for a third World Series title in this remarkable alternate baseball universe.
This Wild Card Series, all three games of it, felt less like an opening act and more like a season distilled—tight margins, sudden swings, the lingering sense that every plate appearance might tilt the entire thing one way or another. And for Minnesota, a resilient team that refused to shrink from the moment, it was a series that will be remembered for its grit, if not its outcome.
The Yankees seized control early, with four runs in the second inning—an inning that began with noise, ended with command, and set the tone for the night. J. Fagundes struck the first and perhaps most decisive blow, a two-run home run that soared into the warm jet stream to left. From there, contributions came from everywhere: the speed of Mike Lord, the timely bat of G. Shackford, and later, the dagger—three runs in the eighth that broke the game open and the Twins’ resistance with it.
But perhaps the night belonged most to Shamar Beeman of Cushman, AR, the unheralded starter who delivered seven calm, confident innings. No theatrics. No wasted motion. Just the steady certainty that October baseball demands. When he handed the ball to the bullpen, the Yankees were in control—and they never let it go.
And so the Twins head home, proud but empty-handed, while the Yankees march forward to meet the Houston Astros—rested, powerful, and waiting.
Tomorrow, the storyline moves on. But tonight, in the Bronx, in a game that carried the weight of hope and history, the Yankees did what the Yankees so often do: they delivered.

[jg2977]

On a Saturday afternoon in Phoenix, beneath the retractable roof of Chase Field and the lingering echoes of last year’s triumph, the Arizona Diamondbacks took another determined step toward defending their World Series crown. Their 6–2 win over the Chicago Cubs didn’t just clinch the Wild Card Series—it reaffirmed that this team, forged in last October’s pressure, still possesses the poise and precision that championships demand.
It began with a spark in the first inning, and it grew into a blaze in the third. Five runs in all—an inning that unfolded like a slow-building overture: the double by Tony Flores, the gap-shot from Jose Chapa, and the sense, even then, that the Cubs were suddenly playing uphill on a very steep grade. For Chicago, a club that scraped and clawed its way through the back half of the season, the third inning was a reminder of baseball’s often unforgiving nature. You can hit line drives, you can tally ten hits—but if the big swing never comes, the postseason can feel like a door closing softly, but firmly.
And in the middle of it all stood Tony Flores. The third baseman from Valencia, Venezuela, became the steady heartbeat of the series. No towering home runs, no showmanship—just an unerring knack for the timely swing. A .375 average, four RBI, and an on-base percentage north of .580. Numbers that don’t shout, but instead whisper something more important: reliability, calm, presence. The kind of performance October baseball remembers.
Arizona didn’t rely on offense alone. A. Mendoza, working with a patience that bordered on serene, gave the Diamondbacks 6.2 innings of bend-but-don’t-break pitching. Ten hits against him, yes—but only two runs. The Cubs touched him, but they never dented him. And when the bullpen took over, the door, gently but unmistakably, shut.
For the Cubs, the season ends with regret, perhaps, but also with the knowledge that baseball’s rhythms rarely reward the faint-hearted. They battled. They simply ran into a champion that remembered how to be one.
So the Diamondbacks—last year’s darlings, this year’s defenders—move on to meet the Atlanta Braves, another rested titan awaiting their shot. October will ask more of them. It always does.
But today in Phoenix, they answered every question. And the road to another title, as improbable as it once seemed, remains open.

[jg2977]

Ah, ladies and gentlemen, we find ourselves at Dodger Stadium on a crisp October afternoon, the kind of day where the shadows of the palm trees almost stretch to the warning track, and the postseason air is electric with possibility. The Pittsburgh Pirates, a team with their hearts set on a Division Series berth, came in full of hope, but tonight, it would be the Los Angeles Dodgers who had the narrative in their hands.
From the very first pitch, you could feel the tension, the kind of tension that makes every batter a story and every pitch a mini-drama. The Dodgers struck first, a run in the second, as if to say, "We remember last night, and we won’t be denied." The Pirates hung tough, answering in the fifth with a couple of runs of their own, a flicker of hope. But baseball, as we know, is a game of inches, of timing, and tonight Los Angeles had both.
And the heroes were many, but one stands out in particular—Sepp Miller behind the plate, guiding the pitchers, framing the strike zone, and making those plays that don’t always make the box score but make the difference when the lights shine the brightest. Cory Brierton, the first baseman, perhaps the quietest MVP you could ask for: no home runs, no RBI, but four runs scored and a presence that somehow made everything feel inevitable.
On the mound, the Dodgers’ D. Herrera delivered seven innings of disciplined pitching, giving up just two runs while keeping the Pirates off balance. And when the ninth rolled around, J. Aguiniga closed it out, and with that final out, the Dodgers secured the 6-3 victory and, with it, the Wild Card Series.
For Pittsburgh, it’s a bitter ending, a moment to reflect and regroup. For Los Angeles, the journey continues—onward to face the Milwaukee Brewers in the Division Series. And as the crowd files out under the fading California sun, you can almost hear the whisper of history in the air: the Dodgers are moving forward, and the story is far from over.
Yes, baseball, in October, has a way of reminding us why we keep watching, pitch after pitch, inning after inning, season after season. And tonight, at Dodger Stadium, it reminded us once again.

[jg2977]

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