National Baseball League

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Cowherd:
After the first two games, I don’t think anyone saw this coming. The Braves looked like the sure thing, the powerhouse we all expected to roll through — and now here we are, tied 2-2 in the Division Series. Atlanta is staring down the barrel of Game 5 at Truist Park Friday night. They’re not just trying to win a game… they’re trying to save their season.
And tonight? It was a classic playoff slugfest. Seven runs for Atlanta, eight for St. Louis. Frank Quiroz — you want a star in a crunch? He gave you everything: three hits, two homers, four RBI. He was everywhere. And yet the Braves couldn’t close the deal.
Francesa:
Yeah, Colin, I gotta tell you — I’m looking at that box score and I’m thinking, “How does a team score seven runs and still lose?” Travis Johnson in the seventh, two outs, runner on third — he hits a double and suddenly the Cardinals take the lead. You can’t script it better than that.
Atlanta’s offense? They showed up. Fifteen hits! They just didn’t get the key outs when they needed them. That’s playoff baseball for you: it’s not about who hits the most, it’s about who hits at the right time. And St. Louis? They did.
Cowherd:
Exactly. This isn’t just about tonight — it’s about momentum going into Game 5. The Braves still have the talent. They still have the same guys that got them to the postseason. But now they’re under pressure like they’ve never been under all season. One game to make it or break it.
Francesa:
And let’s not forget the bullpen! Stewart goes seven-plus, gives up five runs but manages to get the W. Balliett closes it out with two outs in the ninth. Clutch pitching in clutch moments. That’s what separates teams that survive from teams that die in October.
Cowherd:
So Friday night in Atlanta? It’s everything. The defending NL champions trying to avoid a collapse, the Cardinals trying to steal a series in enemy territory. You could not ask for a better stage for baseball drama.
Francesa:
Listen, Atlanta’s got the bats, they’ve got the pitching, they’ve got the history. But Friday? This is not practice. This is win-or-go-home. And if I’m a Braves fan… I’m not sleeping until that final out.
Cowherd:
Exactly. Buckle up. Truist Park Friday night — world champions, cornered. This is what baseball playoffs are all about.

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Milwaukee Brewers: 6th NLCS berth
1904 1909 1924 1927 1930 1933

Cowherd:
Folks, the Milwaukee Brewers are moving on. NLCS berth number six in franchise history! They did it tonight in San Francisco, winning 9-7 over the Giants in a series-clinching Game 4. And here’s the thing — this wasn’t pretty. This was chaos. This was postseason baseball at its absolute most brutal and exhilarating.
Costas:
Indeed, Colin. Edgar Perdomo, the Giants’ star, gave us everything you could ask for in a losing effort — clutch hits, pressure at-bats, yet the outcome was not in his favor. And that’s the cruel reality of October baseball. Milwaukee, though, they stay composed under pressure. They take the W, and they advance. It’s the 1933 postseason, and every pitch, every swing matters that much more.
Francesa:
Listen to me — you’re telling me the Brewers scored nine runs, the Giants put up seven, and we’re sitting here acting like this was a routine night? This is playoff insanity. Rich Ruggeri — Player of the Game — huge hits, big RBIs, comes through in the clutch. Brewers offense — 13 hits — spreading the ball around, hitting homers, hitting doubles, stealing bases. That’s what makes a team built for October.
Mad Dog:
Let me tell you something — this is what separates winners from losers. You get a pitcher like Flores going seven innings, giving up five runs? You win that game. That’s big-league, postseason pitching — you survive, you scrape through, and your offense carries you. Meanwhile, the Giants’ pitching collapses in the sixth and eighth. That’s the difference. That’s the playoff baseball you love to hate when you’re rooting against them.
Cowherd:
And the celebration in Milwaukee? You can imagine it. Jake Watende’s team walking out of Oracle Park, confident, loose, and ready for the next step — the League Championship Series. They don’t know if they’ll face the Braves or the Cardinals, but they know this: they earned the right to play. They’re battle-tested.
Costas:
Exactly. And the storylines are rich. The Giants, a tremendous offensive club, eliminated despite a heroic effort by Perdomo. And now Milwaukee moves on, prepared to challenge whoever emerges from the Atlanta-St. Louis series. This is the essence of October — talent, timing, and a touch of madness.
Francesa:
Let’s not sugarcoat it — this was messy. Runs all over the scoreboard, swings, misses, stolen bases, big homers. But that’s playoff baseball. The Brewers are alive, the Giants are left wondering “what could have been,” and the fans? They got exactly what they paid for.
Mad Dog:
And let me just say — if you’re Milwaukee, you’ve got momentum. That’s the key. You win a tight, messy, wacky Game 4 on the road, and now you have the NLCS waiting. Whoever comes next? They better be ready. The Brewers aren’t just coming; they’re coming with a purpose.
Cowherd:
So mark your calendars, folks. NLCS is on the horizon. Milwaukee Brewers — 9-7 tonight — surviving, advancing, and ready to fight for a chance at the pennant. Postseason baseball, at its finest.

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Tampa Bay Rays: 3rd ALCS berth
1911 1932 1933

Cowherd:
For the third time — and the second straight year — the Tampa Bay Rays are headed to the American League Championship Series. And let’s be honest about what this was. This wasn’t a coin flip. This wasn’t luck. This was Tampa Bay walking into Toronto and saying, “We’re better than you, and we’re going to prove it for nine innings.”
Fifteen runs. Fifteen hits. Zero errors. This was a grown-up team playing a team that still has some growing to do.
Costas:
It unfolded with a sense of ruthless clarity. Early resistance from Toronto — a home run here, a spark there — but every time the Blue Jays reached for momentum, the Rays calmly took it back. And at the center of it all stood Ricky Abrego, delivering one of the great postseason performances in franchise history.
Six hits. Seven runs driven in. Two home runs. Thirteen total bases. This was not simply a hot night — this was mastery, and it came on a stage that amplifies everything.
Francesa:
Let’s stop with the nonsense for a second. This was a beatdown. You wanna talk about playoff baseball? This is what it looks like when one team is built for October and the other one just happens to be there.
Abrego’s got six hits. Six! Kendrick hits two bombs. Guerrero goes nine innings — nine — and yeah, he gives up four runs, but he never loses control of the game. Toronto never makes Tampa uncomfortable. Not once after the fourth inning.
That’s the difference between contenders and pretenders.
Russo:
And this is what drives fans crazy if you’re Toronto. You’re at home. The building’s full. You get early runs — Thorn homers, Polidori homers — and you think, “Alright, here we go!”
And then BAM — fourth inning, seventh inning, ninth inning — Tampa just keeps coming. They don’t panic. They don’t press. They just keep hittin’ rockets all over the field. Five runs in the seventh? That’s not drama — that’s domination.
Cowherd:
This is what Tampa Bay has become. Not flashy. Not loud. Just relentlessly efficient. Three ALCS appearances now. Two in a row. And they don’t even know who they’re playing next — Houston or Anaheim — but here’s the truth: neither one is excited about seeing this team.
Because Tampa doesn’t beat you one way. They beat you every way.
Costas:
Toronto exits with dignity, but also with unanswered questions. Tampa Bay advances with certainty. The Rays are no longer the upstart. They are no longer the clever underdog. They are a fixture of October baseball now — composed, balanced, and increasingly inevitable.
Francesa:
This is the line in the sand. Tampa Bay’s not hoping anymore. They’re expecting. ALCS again. Period.
Russo:
And if you’re the rest of the American League? You’re watching this and thinking, “How do we get them out?”
Because right now — nobody has an answer.

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Houston Astros: 6th ALCS berth
1903 1916 1929 1930 1931 1933

Cowherd:
For the sixth time, the Houston Astros are headed to the ALCS. And here’s the thing — this didn’t feel dramatic. This felt expected. Houston didn’t play a perfect game, they didn’t dominate wire-to-wire, but they did exactly what great teams do: every time Anaheim made a little noise, Houston punched back harder.
That’s not talent. That’s identity.
Costas:
There was resistance, certainly. Anaheim had moments — Vazquez’s early home run, Roman’s three-run blast in the seventh — reminders that this was no push-over opponent. But the larger arc of the afternoon belonged unmistakably to Houston. A three-run fourth inning. A three-run fifth. Two more in the seventh. Each surge arriving just as Anaheim seemed poised to regain equilibrium.
It was not chaos. It was control.
Francesa:
Let’s get something straight right now. The Astros didn’t sneak into this. They didn’t get lucky. They didn’t win on a fluke. They beat Anaheim because they’re better — top to bottom, lineup to bullpen.
Josh Curtis hits two home runs. Ben Callender drives in five. Garcia’s on base all day. And Ledger? Yeah, he wasn’t sharp — gives up six — but he gives you almost seven innings and hands the game to the bullpen with the lead. That’s playoff baseball.
That’s how you advance.
Russo:
And this is where it gets frustrating if you’re the Angels. You score six runs on the road in an elimination game — that’s usually enough to at least scare somebody. But Houston just keeps coming. No panic. No rushing. Just hit after hit after hit.
You give up three in the fourth? They score three right back. You pull within one? Boom — Callender puts it out of reach. That’s what experience looks like.
Cowherd:
Six ALCS appearances. Think about that. This isn’t a hot stretch — this is a standard. Houston doesn’t measure success by Division Series wins anymore. They’re past that. This is a team that walks into October assuming it will still be playing next week.
And now? They get Tampa Bay. A fascinating matchup. Discipline versus discipline. Confidence versus confidence.
Costas:
Josh Curtis, named Division Series MVP, spoke not of individual accolades but of a singular pursuit — the World Series. It is a familiar refrain in Houston, and one that carries credibility because it is backed by results.
The Astros are not chasing relevance. They are defending it.
Francesa:
Anaheim’s gotta go home and ask some tough questions. Houston? They’re exactly where they expect to be. ALCS again. Period. End of discussion.
Russo:
And now the league gets what it deserves — Houston versus Tampa Bay. No gimmicks. No surprises. Just two teams that know how to win when it matters.
Buckle up.

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St. Louis Cardinals: 7th NLCS berth
1906 1907 1908 1912 1915 1918 1933

Cowherd:
Let’s start with the uncomfortable truth. The Atlanta Braves didn’t lose this series because they lacked talent — they lost it because October doesn’t care about résumés. The defending champs were up 2–0, at home, feeling good… and then St. Louis punched them in the mouth three straight times.
This wasn’t a fluke. This was a takeover.
Russo:
This is one of those series where Atlanta’s gonna be asking “how did this happen?” for the next decade. You score 11 runs in a deciding game and still lose? That’s a nightmare. Every time the Braves answered, St. Louis came back harder. Eighth inning? Boom — five runs. Extra innings? Boom — two more.
That’s mental toughness.
Francesa:
I don’t wanna hear about bad luck. Don’t wanna hear about bullpen usage. Don’t wanna hear about “well, it was close.” You’re the defending World Series champions. You’re up two games to none. You finish the series losing three in a row. That’s on you.
And give St. Louis their due. They earned every inch of this.
Costas:
This was not merely an upset — it was a reversal of narrative. Atlanta entered October draped in inevitability, the reigning champions, dominant, confident. St. Louis entered with history — but history that had grown distant. Fifteen years since their last NLCS appearance. Seven total now. A proud franchise waiting patiently for its next chapter.
On this night, they wrote it in indelible ink.
Cowherd:
And look at the star of the series — Luis Alvarez. .577 average. Four home runs. Ten runs scored. That’s not “hot.” That’s commanding. That’s the kind of performance that makes the other dugout feel like they’re playing uphill every inning.
Russo:
And don’t overlook the guts. They go down early. They give runs back. They blow a lead. They come right back again. Over and over. That’s belief. That’s a team that stopped worrying about who they were playing.
Francesa:
Now here’s the reality check. This doesn’t erase what Atlanta is. But it does put a scar on it. Great teams remember series like this. And St. Louis? They’re dangerous now, because they’ve already done the hardest thing there is — win when everyone says you’re done.
Costas:
The Cardinals now advance to face Milwaukee — another heavyweight — but they do so armed with momentum and a reminder that October is not governed by logic or lineage.
It is governed by nerve.
Cowherd:
Down 0–2. Facing the champs. On the road. Three straight wins. Fifteen years of waiting — over.
St. Louis didn’t just survive October.
They claimed it. ⚾🔥

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1933 League Championship Series

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Cowherd:
This is why baseball in October is unmatched. One out away. One clean play away. Milwaukee is right there — up 14–13, ninth inning, crowd already tasting champagne. And then… one mistake. One error by Rick Ruggeri. And suddenly the entire night flips.
That’s the thing about pressure — it doesn’t break you slowly. It snaps.
Francesa:
You cannot make that error. You just can’t. I don’t care how many runs you scored earlier, I don’t care how wild the game’s been — you’re one out away from winning Game 1 of the NLCS at home. You end the game. Period.
They didn’t. And the game never recovered.
Russo:
Once that play happened, you could feel it. The whole building changed. Brewers fans knew it, Cardinals players knew it, everybody knew it. The Cardinals smelled blood — and when St. Louis smells blood in October, they don’t stop.
Eight runs in the ninth? That’s not a rally — that’s a demolition.
Costas:
It was a game that defied reasonable description. A scoreboard that looked like a typographical error. Momentum swinging violently, inning by inning, until finally it collapsed under its own weight.
Milwaukee had authored a masterpiece of offense — only to watch it unravel in the cruelest possible moment.
Cowherd:
And then there’s Mike Jankowski. Four home runs. Nine RBIs. Seventeen total bases. This wasn’t a hot night — this was an event. This was one of those games people will still bring up decades later and say, “Yeah, I remember that one.”
Francesa:
That’s an all-time playoff performance. End of discussion. You don’t need context, you don’t need qualifiers. You hit four home runs in an NLCS game and drive in nine? You’ve entered a different category.
Russo:
And give St. Louis credit — again. Down late, chaos everywhere, bullpen taxed, crowd against them — and they just keep swinging. They don’t tighten up. They don’t play scared. They play like they expect something insane to happen.
Because lately, it keeps happening for them.
Costas:
Game 1 of the National League Championship Series was supposed to be a measured beginning — a tone-setter. Instead, it became a monument to volatility, to fragility, and to the idea that October baseball is governed less by logic than by nerve.
Milwaukee was one out away.
St. Louis took everything else.

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Ohhh yeah—this one had takes, brother.
This was classic Cowherd: talent plus leverage beats momentum every time. Houston came in with noise, numbers, and stars—but Tampa Bay? Tampa Bay had the situation. Early lead, home field, pressure flipped immediately. Once the Rays punched first, this stopped being a baseball game and turned into a street fight with a spreadsheet, dude.
And then—WHAM!—Chris Smith grabbed the spotlight and flexed on the entire series. Six RBIs, extra-base thunder, total alpha performance. That’s not a hot night, that’s a statement game. That’s the kind of performance that makes the opposing dugout start thinking about Game 2 in the fourth inning, brother.
Cowherd would say it like this: Houston had names. Tampa had answers. The Astros kept scoring, sure—but every time they looked up, Tampa had already moved the chains again. That’s inevitability. That’s control.
And Hulk Hogan? He’s ripping his shirt clean off yelling:
“LET ME TELL YA SOMETHIN’, MEAN GENE—WHEN YOU GIVE UP FIFTEEN RUNS IN YOUR OWN UNIVERSE, THE RAYS ARE GONNA DROP THE LEG ON YA, BROTHER! CHRIS SMITH WENT FULL HULKAMANIA ON THE SCOREBOARD!”
This was Tampa Bay saying: Welcome to the LCS—this is our ring.
Game 1 goes to the Rays, and Houston walks out knowing something important:
They can hit.
They can punch.
But Tampa Bay? They control the match. 💥⚾🔥

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This was one of those games that neatly illustrates a truth Colin Cowherd loves to circle in red ink: volatility travels poorly; stability usually doesn’t.
St. Louis came in riding the emotional high of Game 1, the kind of win that leaves you wondering whether the adrenaline has anywhere left to go. Milwaukee, on the other hand, responded like a team that understood the series hadn’t actually begun yet. From the opening inning on, the Brewers played with structure, patience, and—most importantly—timing.
And that’s where Jason Gonzalez enters the story.
Bob Costas would note that baseball, more than any other sport, has a way of waiting for its decisive moment. For six innings this was competitive, if slightly tilted. Then, in the bottom of the sixth, with the bases loaded and the tension fully formed, Gonzalez delivered the swing that clarified everything—a bases-clearing double that didn’t just widen the score, it reframed the game. The Cardinals never recovered.
Cowherd would put it bluntly: stars don’t have to dominate all night—just the moment that matters. Gonzalez didn’t chase highlights; he cashed leverage. Meanwhile, Milwaukee received length and composure from Jose Arias, who gave them exactly what playoff teams crave after a chaotic opener: nine innings, no drama, and no need to overthink the bullpen.
From a broader lens, this felt like a reset. Game 1 was baseball at its most anarchic. Game 2 was baseball as a reminder that execution still wins series. Milwaukee’s offense came in waves, their pitching removed hope early, and by the seventh inning the crowd wasn’t wondering if they’d win—only how emphatically.
The series now shifts to St. Louis tied at one, but the tone has changed. The Cardinals proved they can win the spectacular. The Brewers just reminded everyone they can win the reliable.

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Cowherd:
Alright, let’s stop pretending this series is about small margins—because it isn’t. This is now about who can survive chaos, and right now Tampa Bay is thriving in it. Game 2 was loud, messy, relentless… and the Rays won it anyway. That tells you everything.
Houston scored 13 runs. Thirteen! On the road! In an ALCS game! And they still walked off the field down 2–0 in the series. That’s the red flag. When your offense shows up like that and it doesn’t matter, you’re not losing games—you’re losing control of the environment.
And Tampa? Tampa is totally comfortable living in that storm.
Francesa:
Yeah, but see, this wasn’t just chaos, Colin—this was Tampa Bay doing what they’ve done all year. They take your best punch, they absorb it, and then they hit you back harder. Houston had multiple leads, multiple momentum swings, and every single time they thought they were back in the game, the Rays answered immediately.
That sixth inning told the whole story. Astros put up a crooked number, they’re thinking maybe this is the night they flip the series—and then boom. Eight runs. Eight. That’s not bullpen management anymore, that’s survival mode.
Cowherd:
Exactly. And here’s the larger takeaway: Houston is talented, but Tampa is older, tougher, and situationally smarter. Gaetano Papasogli is 36 years old, and he looked like the calmest guy in the building. Triple, homer, four RBIs—he didn’t just produce, he stabilized the game. Veteran players don’t chase moments; they own them.
Meanwhile Houston? You see the cracks. Defensive mistakes, bullpen fires, long innings where the pitchers look overwhelmed. That’s youth meeting October.
Francesa:
And don’t overlook how Tampa spreads it around. Papasogli, Petro, Mojica, Kelly—this wasn’t one guy carrying them. That’s why Houston can’t ever quite land the knockout punch. You get past one problem, there’s another one waiting.
Plus, the Rays only stranded one runner all night. One. That’s execution. That’s discipline. That’s a team that understands what playoff baseball actually asks of you.
Cowherd:
So now the series shifts to Houston, and here’s the uncomfortable truth: the Astros haven’t been outplayed—they’ve been outfinished. Tampa Bay keeps winning the last five minutes of every big moment. Until Houston proves they can close a game without everything going sideways, this series feels less competitive than the scores suggest.
Francesa:
Houston’s still dangerous—but dangerous doesn’t win you October. Tampa Bay is playing like a team that expects to be here, knows how to be here, and frankly, looks very comfortable with the Astros trying to chase them.
Two games in, and Tampa Bay has the edge where it matters most: composure.

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Cowherd:
Alright, THIS is October. This is why we watch. Game 3 wasn’t baseball—it was a stress test. And St. Louis passed it. Barely. But they passed it.
Milwaukee had this game multiple times. Brian Harrington was unconscious—two homers, five RBIs, carried the Brewers like a superstar is supposed to. On the road. In the NLCS. That’s a legacy-type night. And yet… they leave Busch Stadium down 2–1 in the series. That tells you how thin the margins are right now.
Russo:
Yeah but Colin, that’s the part that’ll eat at Milwaukee forever if this series turns. You score eight runs, your best hitter has the game of his life, and you STILL can’t close it? That’s brutal. Absolutely brutal.
And let’s be honest—this was a bullpen nightmare. You get to the ninth inning tied, you bring in Berman, and boom: Dominguez, then Stephens. Season-defining moment. You can’t script it worse if you’re the Brewers.
Cowherd:
Exactly. And look, I’ll say this: St. Louis didn’t dominate this game. They survived it. Their starter got rocked, the crowd was tense all afternoon, but they never panicked. That matters. Veteran teams don’t need to be perfect—they just need to be standing at the end.
Isaiah Stephens goes 0-for-most-of-the-day, then hits a three-run walk-off like he’s been waiting for it since breakfast. That’s October confidence. That’s “I don’t care what happened before” energy.
Russo:
And that’s where the Cardinals have the edge right now. They don’t rely on one guy. Harrington was the best player on the field, no question—but St. Louis had Dominguez, Jankowski, Gonzago, Stephens. It comes from everywhere. Milwaukee’s stars are shining, but St. Louis keeps answering in waves.
Also—three errors by Milwaukee? You’re not surviving that in this ballpark, in this weather, in this series.
Cowherd:
Right. And now zoom out: Milwaukee has played three games, scored runs, hit homers, had leads—and they’re still trailing the series. That’s psychologically dangerous. Because eventually you start thinking, What do we have to do to actually win one of these?
Meanwhile St. Louis is thinking, We don’t have to be great—just resilient.
Russo:
Game 4’s massive. Milwaukee can’t let this snowball. But St. Louis? They’ve got momentum, the crowd, and the belief that no matter how crazy it gets, they’ll find a way at the end.
That’s not luck. That’s October muscle memory.
Cowherd:
Exactly. And right now, St. Louis is flexing it.

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