National Baseball League

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OAKLAND — On a gray, rain-slicked afternoon by the Bay, the Oakland Athletics did what champions — or those intent on becoming them — so often do: they endured. They outlasted a stubborn Baltimore Orioles team 6–4, and in doing so, punched their ticket to the Division Series.
This was the kind of October baseball that tests your mettle as much as your mechanics. A little rain. A little wind. A lot of tension. And yet, in that unpredictable theater, the Athletics found their stars.
Ricky Hernandez, the steady third baseman who played this series as though it had been scripted for him, once again rose to the occasion. A home run. A double. Two runs batted in. His bat didn’t just produce; it announced. It said to the Orioles — and perhaps to the rest of the American League — that Oakland’s lineup is as dangerous as it is determined. For his efforts, Hernandez was named Series MVP, hitting .455 with an on-base percentage north of .500.
But this was no one-man show. Rodrigo Sanchez, the designated hitter, delivered what may well have been the game’s emotional pivot: a two-run homer in the fourth that turned a slim deficit into momentum. Behind him, A. Hernandez, the A’s starter, navigated six uneasy innings, allowing four runs but, crucially, never losing the thread of the game. He handed it to a bullpen that did what the best bullpens do — E. Cruz settled things down, and J. Quintero slammed the door.
For Baltimore, this one will sting. They had their moments — B. McGuire’s thunderous third-inning homer, R. Reid’s timely doubles — but they simply couldn’t stop the bleeding in that decisive fourth inning. Their pitchers, from J. Fort to E. Gavarrete, fought hard, but against an Oakland team that kept making contact and kept pressuring the bases, it wasn’t enough.
So it ends here for the Orioles — a noble effort, a flash of brilliance, but a season closed under the rain of Northern California.
For the Athletics, however, it’s just beginning. Next stop: Cleveland, and a date with the 110-win Indians, a team that’s been waiting and watching.
As the crowd of nearly 40,000 filed out of the Coliseum, soaked but smiling, you got the sense that something familiar was returning to Oakland — that October electricity, that feeling that, for at least one more week, baseball still belongs here.
It’s been said that postseason baseball doesn’t so much reveal character as it amplifies it. Tonight, under wet skies and in front of a loyal crowd, the Athletics proved that theirs still burns bright.

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1923 MLB League Division Series

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Alright lemme tell ya somethin’ — this was a statement win by the Mets, okay? Game One, Division Series, Citi Field — and the Mets, the defending two-time champs, they look every bit the part. 8–2 final, and it wasn’t even that close. Pittsburgh? They were never really in it.
Alan Sloan — folks, this guy’s a monster. Two home runs, three RBIs, scored twice, and both homers were absolute no-doubters. One in the fifth, one in the eighth — the second one basically shut the door. You wanna talk about playoff pedigree? This guy’s got it. That’s what stars do in October. When you need the big swing, Sloan delivers.
Now look — B. Colón, the old veteran — gives you seven-and-a-third strong innings. Two runs, eight hits, strikes out seven, and never really looked rattled. That’s what you want from your Game One starter. You get the lead, you hold it. You pass it to the bullpen, you go home happy. Textbook postseason baseball.
Meanwhile, Pittsburgh — look, they had chances. Couple of guys on in the fourth, Hinkston up with two outs, a chance to maybe flip the game right there — and he grounds out. And I said it right there: “That’s it. That’s the inning. You had your shot, you missed it.” Because against this Mets team, you don’t get many of those.
S. Kim — absolutely shelled. Four and two-thirds, gives up nine hits, six runs, and a homer to Sloan that’s probably still flying over Flushing right now. His ERA looks like a zip code — 11.57! That’s not gonna get it done in October.
And the Mets lineup — up and down — everybody contributed. Thirteen hits, clutch hitting with two outs. Pepper had two RBIs, Guidice with a sac fly, Contreras lacing doubles. They moved the line, they executed. You can tell this team’s been here before.
Now listen, you split hairs if you want, you say “Oh, the Pirates hit a few doubles, they just didn’t cash in.” Yeah, yeah — fine. But this is October baseball. It’s about timely hitting, it’s about executing when the lights are brightest, and it’s about stars stepping up. Sloan did that, Colón did that, and the Mets as a whole — they set the tone.
Tomorrow? Game Two, right back at Citi Field. If Pittsburgh doesn’t steal one, this thing’s over. You go down 0–2 heading back to Pittsburgh, goodnight. You’re not beating this Mets team three straight, not with that lineup, not with that pitching staff.
So yeah — Mets take Game One, 8–2, and they look every bit like a team chasing their third straight title. I’m tellin’ ya — this club’s got that look again.

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“A pleasant good afternoon to you, wherever you may be…”
And on this brisk October day in Milwaukee, the Dodgers — yes, the Dodgers — still have a little magic left in their traveling case. Behind the arm of 38-year-old Jordan Andrade, Los Angeles began the NLDS with a 6–1 victory over the Brewers, and they did it the old-fashioned way: with pitching, poise, and a few well-timed swings of the bat.
Andrade, the right-hander whose best years many thought were behind him, was vintage today. Seven and two-thirds innings, five hits, one unearned run, and not a single walk. He worked like a craftsman, painting corners, mixing speeds, keeping the Brewers guessing and, more often than not, off balance.
You could almost see it in his eyes — that calm, veteran look that says, “I’ve been here before.” Pitch after pitch, inning after inning, Andrade set them down.
And early on, the Dodgers gave him something to work with. In the top of the first, after a leadoff walk to Guzman and a double by Usher, it was C. Brierton — the steady hand at first base — who sliced a double into the gap in left-center to bring two home. Three runs would cross the plate before Milwaukee even had a chance to settle in.
From there, the Dodgers simply kept adding. In the fifth, another Brierton double, another RBI, and then in the sixth, F. Aviles — who has been nothing short of a lightning bolt for this team — launched one high and deep into the night, a solo home run that carried over the right-field wall, into the crisp Wisconsin air. His third homer of the postseason.
Milwaukee’s lineup, so powerful during the season, could muster only six hits — two of them by shortstop B. Busby, who accounted for the Brewers’ lone RBI.
There was a quiet beauty to this one. No chaos, no controversy — just steady, efficient baseball. The Dodgers made their share of mistakes in the field — three errors — but each time, Andrade simply took a deep breath and went back to work, as if the game itself couldn’t rattle him.
And so, as the shadows lengthened across American Family Field and 48,000 fans bundled against the chill, the old veteran walked off the mound to a chorus of respect — some from the crowd, all from his teammates.
Tomorrow, the Brewers will try to even the series. But tonight, under a clear sky and a rising October moon, the story belongs to Jordan Andrade — proof that in baseball, sometimes experience and composure still outshine youth and velocity.
And as always… in the gentle rhythm of this game, there’s something timeless.

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HARRY DOYLE:
“Well folks, welcome to beautiful Cleveland, Ohio — home of the Indians, mistake by the lake, and apparently, another fine example of how not to start a playoff series!”
“Game One of the Division Series — Oakland Athletics vs. Cleveland Indians. Weather’s perfect, fans are fired up, and the Indians? Well, they were awake through the fourth inning at least!”
“Let’s take you through it: the A’s got on the board early with a run in the third, then broke it open in the fifth when Ricky Hernandez — yeah, that guy, third in WAR, first in annoying pitchers — dropped a run-scoring single to make it 3-1. Cleveland tried to claw back, but apparently, they left their bats in the dugout after the fourth inning.”
“And speaking of that fourth inning — Cleveland actually had a pulse! J. Santiago and C. Alfonso went back-to-back with a couple of moonshots off I. Dickey. That gave the Tribe a 3-1 lead and the fans thought, hey, maybe this is our year! … Then the fifth inning happened.”
“Dusty Berthiaume — who was hotter than a $2 pistol — went 4-for-5 with a home run, three singles, and drove in a couple. I don’t know what he’s eating, but the Indians should look into it.”
“From there, it was all Oakland. Dickey settled down, Quintero slammed the door, and the Indians offense? About as lively as a funeral in February.”
“Final score from Jacobs Field — Athletics 6, Indians 3. The A’s take a one-game lead in the best-of-five. Cleveland fans are heading to the parking lot muttering, ‘Here we go again.’”
“Your winning pitcher — I. Dickey, 7 innings, 8 hits, 3 runs, and somehow no walks. The save to Quintero, who pitched two spotless innings and probably deserves hazard pay for having to watch that Cleveland lineup.”
“Player of the game — Dusty Berthiaume. Four hits, a homer, and just generally making Cleveland’s pitchers cry softly into their gloves.”
“Next game’s tomorrow right here at Jacobs Field. Maybe Cleveland’ll remember it’s a postseason series and not open tryouts for the Bad News Bears.”
(Harry chuckles, leans into the mic)
“Well that’s it for tonight, folks. The A’s take Game One, six to three. This is Harry Doyle saying… ‘Good night everybody, and try to keep the booze cold — you’ll need it!’”

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MAD DOG:
“Alright! ALDS Game One from the Bronx! Yankees take it one-nothing over Seattle! ONE-NOTHING! I mean, Mikey, listen to me — that’s old-school baseball! Sean Jenkins, seven shutout innings, four hits, no walks — none! ZIP! Absolutely shoved it!”
MIKE FRANCESA:
“Well yeah, Dog, listen, that’s playoff baseball. That’s October. You’re not gonna win these games 9-8. You gotta pitch, you gotta play defense, you gotta get that big hit, and the Yankees — they got the one they needed. C. Pyo, by the way, great piece of hitting in the fifth — that ball was crushed.”
MAD DOG:
“WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT! Mikey, you mean the only hit that mattered! That was it! Calabaa for Seattle — that poor guy, he pitches his heart out, eight innings, TWO hits, one run, and he loses! He’s gotta be thinking, ‘What do I gotta do?!’ The guy was fantastic!”
MIKE:
“Yeah, Dog, listen, I give Calabaa credit. He pitched great. You’re on the road, Yankee Stadium, tough environment — 43,000 fans, cold October wind blowing in from left, and the guy gives up a solo shot to C. Pyo and that’s the ballgame. Sometimes that’s just baseball.”
MAD DOG (interrupting, half-yelling):
“NO no no no no, Mikey, that’s not just baseball! That’s the Yankees getting every bounce! Seattle had a couple of balls hit hard, Bol gets on, Papasogli with a line drive — nothing to show for it! Jenkins was very good, yes, yes, but let’s not make him Maddux! He’s not Greg Maddux, Mikey!”
MIKE (calmly, sipping coffee):
“He doesn’t have to be Maddux, Dog. He just has to be Jenkins, and he was very, very good. He was efficient, threw strikes, kept the ball down, didn’t walk a soul. That’s how you win postseason games. He set the tone for the series.”
MAD DOG (laughing):
“Set the tone? The tone was BORING! Mikey, I was watching this game — I nearly fell asleep in the sixth inning! One run, two hits, that’s it! You could’ve played this game in 1923 — oh wait! It was 1923! Perfect! It’s the dead ball era all over again!”
MIKE (smirking):
“Listen, Dog, you love offense. I get it. You want fireworks. You want 8-7 in ten innings. But this was crisp. Clean baseball. No errors, no nonsense. Jenkins was great, Nevarez came in, closed the door — bang, bang, done. Yankees up 1-0 in the series. That’s how good teams operate.”
MAD DOG:
“Fine! Fine! They won! But don’t tell me this is sustainable! Two hits ain’t gonna cut it! You think they’re gonna win the ALDS hitting two for twenty-four?! Come on, Mikey, please! Rivera, Johnson, Kim — nothing! Absolutely nothing! You can’t live off solo homers forever!”
MIKE:
“They’ll hit when they need to, Dog. It’s October. It’s about pitching depth, bullpen management, not gaudy numbers. Jenkins gives them that. You win Game One, you put the pressure on Seattle, you make ‘em chase the series. That’s what winners do.”
MAD DOG (laughs):
“Oh please, you sound like Joe Torre’s ghost! Alright — Yankees take Game One, Jenkins looks sharp, Calabaa gets the hard-luck loss, and the Bronx crowd goes home happy after two hours and twelve minutes of pure Ambien!”
MIKE (deadpan):
“You’re unbelievable, Dog.”
MAD DOG:
“Thank you, thank you, Mikey! We’ll see if Seattle wakes up tomorrow or if the Yankees sleepwalk to another one-nothing win. Don’t go away, we’ll take your calls — did Jenkins look legit, or did Seattle just stink up the Bronx? 877-337-6666! Mike and the Mad Dog, back after this!”

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JOE BENIGNO:
“Ahhh—ya gotta love it, folks! The Mets, the Amazins’, get it done AGAIN! Five-one over the Pirates, up two-zip in the Division Series, and lemme tell ya somethin’, Evan—this Jose Rojas kid was filthy. Absolutely filthy! Seven innings, two hits, one run, and he made the Bucs look like a bunch’a Little Leaguers out there, bro!”
EVAN ROBERTS:
“Yeah Joe, I mean, you couldn’t have drawn it up better. That first inning—bang!—Brubaker goes deep, the place is rockin’, the crowd’s waving towels, Citi Field’s shaking! Then you get the Rosa double, the Stacks double—next thing you know it’s 4–0 before Pittsburgh even gets a cup of coffee! It was over right there.”
JOE (excited, talking over him):
“DONE! DONE! The Pirates were finished after the first inning! T. Loder—God bless the guy—he had nothin’! Nothin’! The Mets are just spraying line drives all over the yard. Fourteen hits! This lineup, Evan—this lineup is relentless!”
EVAN:
“And here’s what’s crazy, Joe—everybody’s contributing. Rosa, two hits. Pepper, two hits. Contreras, couple of knocks. Brubaker, homer and a double. It’s not just one or two guys—it’s the entire lineup doing their job. That’s how you win in October.”
JOE:
“Exactly! It’s not just Alonzo and Lindor—oh wait, this is 1923, so it’s Sloan and Rosa—but you know what I mean! This team’s got balance, bro. They get clutch hits, they run the bases, they don’t kick the ball around. CLEAN baseball. No errors! That’s how championship teams play!”
EVAN (smirking):
“Now, Joe, lemme ask you this—does this remind you at all of the past two runs? You know, the energy, the starting pitching, the clean fundamentals—?”
JOE (cuts in immediately):
“Evan! Evan! Don’t jinx it, bro! Don’t even say that! I’m not goin’ there yet. I’ve seen too much Mets heartbreak in my life. But I’ll tell ya this—Jose freakin’ Rojas, if he pitches like that, you can pencil this team in for the LCS, no question. The Pirates are dead! They’re goin’ back to Pittsburgh, down two-nothin’, and they’re toast!”
EVAN:
“Yeah, they’re in trouble, Joe. I mean, they’ve got three hits in the whole game—three! Rojas dominated. And then Hoelzle comes in, two clean innings, shuts the door. I mean, it’s clinical. That’s what good teams do.”
JOE (rant mode):
“And you know what I love, Evan? The Mets didn’t fool around. They got the lead early, they stayed aggressive, they didn’t try to hit ten-run homers every at-bat—they just kept the pressure on! Meanwhile, Pittsburgh’s got one guy, Pitre, hits a solo shot, and that’s their whole offense! PATHETIC!”
EVAN (laughing):
“Yeah, it’s like—thanks for showing up, J. Pitre, but the rest of you guys? Forget it. Rojas was in control. The guy barely broke a sweat. Eighty-three pitches through seven. That’s efficiency.”
JOE:
“Exactly! No walks! Attacks the strike zone! Reminds me of Al Leiter in his prime—just poundin’ the zone, mixin’ speeds, total command. I mean, the guy was in a groove! He could’ve gone nine, Evan!”
EVAN:
“Yeah, maybe, but I like that Showalter—or whoever’s managing in 1923—went to Hoelzle there. You keep your guy fresh for the LCS. Smart move.”
JOE:
“Absolutely. Smart baseball. We’re talkin’ October management, bro! The Mets are playin’ like a veteran team—like they’ve been here before. I’m tellin’ ya, this is special!”
EVAN:
“So now it’s simple—Thursday in Pittsburgh, Game 3. Rojas sets the tone, the bats are alive, and the Mets are a win away from the LCS. You can’t ask for more than that.”
JOE (yelling as the segment ends):
“BRO, IF THEY SWEEP ‘EM IN PITTSBURGH—IF THEY SWEEP ‘EM—YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO PEEL ME OFF THE CEILING! LET’S GOOOOOOO METS!!!”
EVAN (laughing):
“Alright, calm down, Joe. Mets up two-nothing, Game 3 Thursday night—don’t go anywhere, we’ll take your calls right after this break on The Fan!”

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Ah, ladies and gentlemen, if you’re just tuning in, welcome to American Family Field on this crisp October afternoon. The Milwaukee Brewers and the Los Angeles Dodgers—yesterday it was all Dodgers, six to one, and today? Well, today the Brewers say, “Not so fast.”
Bob Simonson, the Brewers’ right-hander, takes the mound and, oh my, what a masterful performance. Five and two-thirds innings, just three hits, one run allowed. He’s painting corners like an artist and frustrating Dodger hitters with every pitch. And you can feel the energy from the crowd—forty-eight thousand, seven hundred and forty strong—every pitch met with cheers, every swing met with anticipation.
Los Angeles struck first, a solo shot from Frank Aviles in the third. You could see him jog down the line and hope flicker in the Dodger dugout. But Milwaukee, patient, poised, they answer in the bottom half. And Juan Flores—oh, Juan Flores, with two down and runners on first and second in the seventh—lines a single to right, scores the tying run. Suddenly, it’s a ballgame, and the momentum swings like a pendulum in the autumn breeze.
And from there, the Brewers’ bats kept finding holes, filling the stat sheet, while Simonson’s arm continued its quiet, methodical work. The bullpen takes over flawlessly—Flores himself gets a brief inning, and J. Clay closes it down, two innings of perfection.
Dodgers managed only one run on three hits, left five on base, and the Brewers? They’re cooking now, ten hits, five runs, and one error that doesn’t seem to matter. Milwaukee evens the series, one game apiece, and we head back to Los Angeles with everything to play for.
As the sun sets over Wisconsin, and the fans file out beneath partly cloudy skies with the wind blowing out to center at thirteen miles per hour, the message is clear: this series is far from over, and the Brewers have made sure nobody forgets their home-field roar today.
Bob Simonson, the quiet star of the day, takes the honors as Player of the Game. And as always, we’ll be right here, watching every pitch, savoring every moment of this beautiful game called baseball.

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Ah, folks, if you were watching today at Jacobs Field, you saw a game that reminded you—if ever you needed reminding—that in baseball, no lead is sacred. I mean, the Oakland Athletics were cruising, they had the scoreboard showing 7-1, then 11-5. You’re thinking, “This is it, they’re taking this thing back to Oakland, 2-0 series lead, easy street.”
But then, the Cleveland Indians—oh, they had other plans. Chris Alfonso, the shortstop with the bat that just wouldn’t quit, comes up and turns the eighth inning into a thing of beauty, a grand slam with no one out, giving the Indians a 12-11 lead. And suddenly, all the momentum that Oakland thought they had? Gone in a flash.
Let me tell you, the box score tells one story, but the drama on the field tells another. Alfonso goes 4-for-5, drives in five, scores four—he’s everywhere at once. Kresse goes 4 for 5 also, hits a double and two home runs. Oakland fought back hard—Ricky Hernandez with three hits, Valdez and Sanchez delivering—but it just wasn’t enough.
And you know, Harry Doyle would have said it best: “The runs were there, the bats were swinging, but Cleveland? They just kept hitting and hitting until the scoreboard caught fire.”
So now, it’s 1-1 in the best-of-five, and everything is up for grabs. Back to Oakland we go, and you can bet the A’s are going to have to play every single pitch like it’s their last. Because in a series like this, even double-digit leads can evaporate in the blink of an eye.
Chris Alfonso, the man of the hour, Player of the Game, and the Indians—well, they’ve reminded us all why we love October baseball. It’s unpredictable, it’s dramatic, and folks, it’s beautiful.

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[Craig Carton]: Alright Booms, here we go! Yankee Stadium, October 10th, 1923 — and let me tell ya, it was an absolute beatdown. The Yankees didn’t just win, they steamrolled the Seattle Mariners, eleven to three. ELEVEN TO THREE!
[Boomer Esiason]: Yeah, Craig, this wasn’t just a win, this was a statement. The Yankees go up two games to none in the Division Series, and Mike Deming — the lefty — complete game, 8 hits, 3 runs, throws 102 pitches, and does it with a kind of efficiency you just don’t see anymore.
[Carton]: Yeah, Deming goes nine innings, doesn’t even blink. Meanwhile, the Mariners — I mean, what happened here, Booms? They were flat. Dead on arrival. Couldn’t hit with runners on, couldn’t pitch, couldn’t field — B. Bol with an error that opened the floodgates.
[Boomer]: Well, that’s the difference between a team built for October and one that’s just happy to be here. Look at the Yankees lineup — S. Johnson, grand slam in the eighth, four RBIs on the day. Geoff Shackford, two hits, two RBIs, steady behind the plate. And let’s not forget A. Rivera, two hits, driving in one, scoring twice — it’s balance, Craig.
[Carton]: It’s depth, Booms! One through nine — even the bat boy probably had a base hit. And the Mariners? I mean, their best hitter was their catcher, G. Papasogli, who goes 3-for-4 with a solo homer. That guy’s doing everything short of driving the team bus.
[Boomer]: Exactly. And Craig, that fifth inning was the turning point. Yankees put up a five-spot — Romero with the bases-clearing double, Rivera following it up, and suddenly the Mariners’ starter, Carlos Galindo, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
[Carton]: Galindo’s ERA is now 6.17 — that’s not postseason baseball, that’s spring training in Arizona. And then M. Hill comes in — gives up four more — Booms, it’s like pouring gasoline on a bonfire.
[Boomer]: You’re right. And you know what I like most about this Yankees team? They’re not flashy. They’re efficient. They score runs, they don’t waste at-bats, they turn double plays, and Deming — he just goes out there and competes.
[Carton]: Yeah, but let’s be honest, Booms — this thing’s over. The Mariners are done. Stick a fork in ‘em. You can already start printing those LCS tickets.
[Boomer]: Well, hold on, Craig — the next game’s in Seattle, they’ll have the crowd behind them, maybe the travel helps reset them a little bit.
[Carton]: Nah, nah, nah — this is Yankee baseball, Booms. You go up 2-0, you’ve outscored your opponent 12-3 in two games, and your ace just went the distance? Come on. This series is toast.
[Boomer]: (laughs) Alright, alright, we’ll see. But I’ll say this — Mike Deming, Player of the Game, no question about it. Nine innings, no walks, five strikeouts, and that’s the kind of performance that tells your team, “Hop on my back, I got this.”
[Carton]: And he did! Yankees take it 11-3, 43,841 in attendance, everyone going home happy in the Bronx. Next stop — Seattle, where the Mariners will try to remember what winning feels like.
[Boomer]: (chuckles) Good luck with that.
[Carton]: Booms, if the Yankees sweep this thing, I’m buying you a Deming jersey.
[Boomer]: I’ll hold you to that, Craig.
[Carton]: Yeah, yeah — as long as you wear the high socks and stirrups too.
[Boomer]: (laughs) Let’s not get carried away.

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New York Mets: 6th NLCS appearance
1903 1904 1917 1921 1922 1923

[Mike Francesa]: Alright, dog, the Mets — they do it again. Third straight trip to the National League Championship Series, sixth in franchise history. They sweep the Pirates, 5-3 today at PNC Park, and listen — this wasn’t luck, this was domination, top to bottom.
[Chris “Mad Dog” Russo]: MIKEY, I’M TELLIN’ YA, THIS TEAM — THEY’RE UNBELIEVABLE! THREE YEARS IN A ROW! I MEAN, THE PIRATES — COME ON! THEY HAD NO ANSWER, NONE! THE METS ARE A MACHINE RIGHT NOW!
[Mike]: Calm down, Dog. Listen, they’re playing very composed baseball. Jordan Pineda today — seven strong innings, five hits, three runs, two earned, no walks. He throws 81 pitches — 56 for strikes. That’s efficiency. That’s command.
[Dog]: HE DIDN’T EVEN BREAK A SWEAT, MIKE! DID YOU SEE THAT SEVENTH INNING? BASES EMPTY, TWO OUTS — HE’S JUST PAINTIN’ THE CORNERS! AND THEN HOELZLE COMES IN, TWO PERFECT INNINGS! BALLGAME!
[Mike]: Yeah, Hoelzle’s been terrific. You need that bridge to close things out, he gave ‘em that. The Mets bullpen has been airtight. You’re talking 18 straight scoreless innings from that group going back to Game 1.
[Dog]: THEY’RE LOCKED IN, MIKE! AND HOW ‘BOUT DAVID ROSA — THE SHORTSTOP! .545 IN THE SERIES! MVP! EVERY TIME YOU LOOK UP, HE’S HITTIN’ DOUBLES DOWN THE LINE! AND THAT PLAY IN THE SIXTH — BACKHAND, THROW ACROSS THE BODY — OHH, THAT’S A BALLPLAYER, MIKE!
[Mike]: Yeah, Rosa’s been fantastic. He’s the spark plug. He and Contreras have really carried this lineup. Contreras had two RBIs today, both big, both with two outs. And listen, that’s the difference between a good team and a championship team — they hit with two outs.
[Dog]: ABSOLUTELY! AND LOOK, PITTSBURGH — NICE LITTLE STORY, OKAY, 89 WINS, GOOD SEASON, BUT COME ON — THEY WERE OUTCLASSSED! FIVE HITS TODAY, NO WALKS, THEY’RE FLATTER THAN A PANCAKE!
[Mike]: They weren’t ready for this stage, Dog. You could see it. Once the Mets took the lead in the eighth, that was it. Pirates had no fight left. Mets just too deep, too experienced.
[Dog]: AND HOW ABOUT THIS, MIKE — THIS IS A TEAM THAT’S BEEN IN THE NLCS NOW THREE STRAIGHT YEARS. THAT’S A DYNASTY RUN! WE’RE TALKIN’ ‘86–’88 TYPE STUFF HERE!
[Mike]: Easy now, Dog. Let’s not start throwing the word dynasty around yet. They still gotta win another series. They’ll face either the Dodgers or the Brewers — that one’s tied up 1-1 — and neither one’s gonna be a pushover.
[Dog]: OH, COME ON, MIKE! YOU KNOW THEY’RE GONNA BE FAVORITES! DODGERS, BREWERS, DOESN’T MATTER! THIS TEAM’S GOT THAT LOOK, MIKE! THAT “TEAM OF DESTINY” LOOK!
[Mike]: We’ll see. They’re playing clean, confident baseball, no question about it. But you still gotta get 8 more wins to get that parade down the Canyon of Heroes.
[Dog]: AH, YOU’RE SUCH A WET BLANKET, MIKE! ENJOY IT! THIRD STRAIGHT NLCS, FANS AT SHEA — WELL, WHATEVER THEY’RE CALLIN’ IT NOW — THEY’RE GOIN’ CRAZY! YOU CAN FEEL IT!
[Mike]: (chuckles) Yeah, Dog, they’re excited, and they should be. Mets win it 5-3, sweep the Pirates, Rosa your series MVP, and they wait to see if it’s L.A. or Milwaukee next.
[Dog]: AND WHOEVER IT IS, MIKE — THEY BETTER BRING BODY ARMOR, ‘CAUSE THESE METS — THEY’RE COMIN’!
[Mike]: (deadpan) Alright, Dog, take it easy. Mets roll on, that’s the story. Third straight NLCS — and they look like they mean business.
[Dog]: OHHH BABY! LET’S GOOOO METS!
[Mike]: (sighs) We’ll be right back.

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On a crisp October afternoon in Los Angeles, the Brewers of Milwaukee reminded us all that resilience travels well. At Dodger Stadium, beneath a sky the color of late-autumn promise, they did what good teams do in October — they hit when it mattered most, they ran with purpose, and they never once looked back.
The final score — Milwaukee 10, Los Angeles 4 — only hints at the control the Brewers exerted. Josh Tidwell, the Brewers’ designated hitter, was the centerpiece of it all: a triple, a double, three hits, three runs scored. He wasn’t just producing runs — he was igniting something larger, a sense that Milwaukee, a team long defined by its quiet efficiency, now senses destiny calling.
In the second inning, Jason Porch’s ringing double gave Milwaukee a 2–1 lead, and from there, the Brewers kept adding layers — a run here, a clutch hit there — until the Dodgers’ crowd, so often the soundtrack of October in this ballpark, had grown still.
Colin Humphrey’s home run in the eighth was the exclamation point — a soaring shot into the California twilight that seemed to announce, “This series now belongs to us.”
For the Dodgers, it was a long afternoon. Donny van Meel battled gamely through six innings, but his pitches found too much of the plate, and the Brewers made him pay. Los Angeles managed a few bright spots — a Rudeseal homer, a couple of doubles — but this was Milwaukee’s game from start to finish.
And so, the Brewers take a 2–1 lead in this best-of-five Division Series. One more win, and they’ll be heading to the League Championship Series — a place where legends start to take shape, and October dreams grow louder with every pitch.
Tomorrow, same ballpark, same stakes — and for the Dodgers, one last chance to keep their season alive. But tonight, as the lights dim over Chavez Ravine, it’s Milwaukee that stands a little taller, a little closer to something special.
From Dodger Stadium, this is Bob Costas… reminding you — in October, the details matter, but the moments endure.

[jg2977]

“Well folks, if you like offense… you probably turned this one off around the fourth inning. The Indians and A’s treated us to a barnburner here at the Coliseum — and by barnburner, I mean the barn never actually caught fire. But hey, the good guys from Cleveland pull it out in ten innings, 4–2 the final, and they’re now one win away from punching their ticket to the League Championship Series.
Let’s talk about Ryan Phipps. Two solo home runs — both off poor Antonio Hernandez, who’ll be seeing Phipps in his nightmares for the foreseeable future. Phipps hit one in the first inning to get things started, then came back in the third just to make sure everyone knew it wasn’t a fluke. That’s two baseballs headed for the Bay, and probably a couple of angry kayakers fighting over them.
Meanwhile, the A’s scored both of their runs back in the third — one on a triple by R. Hernandez, who apparently decided he was the only one awake in the Oakland lineup today. After that? Well, the A’s bats went colder than a beer left in the Cleveland dugout.
In the tenth, things really got wild. Bases loaded, full count, and Willie Cobos strolls up there and draws a walk. Yep, that’s right, folks — he didn’t swing, didn’t blink, just stood there while the go-ahead run trotted home. The crowd was thrilled. You could actually hear the excitement echo off the half-empty bleachers.
Manager Kevin Neubauer said after the game, ‘Things broke our way today.’ No kidding, Skip — you walked in the winning run! He also said, ‘We aren’t done yet.’ Which is true, but at this rate, the concession stands might be.
Cleveland’s bullpen held up just fine — L. Garcia came in, threw strikes, and didn’t panic even after hitting a batter and walking another. That’s poise, or maybe he just didn’t notice.
Final line: Cleveland, 4 runs on 9 hits, zero errors. Oakland, 2 runs on 8 hits, and one lonely error that really summed up their day.
Tomorrow, these two clubs do it again here in Oakland. Same time, same place, and if the A’s don’t start hitting soon, they’ll have plenty of time to work on their golf swings.
I’m Harry Doyle saying, ‘So long from the Coliseum — where the beer was cold, the offense was colder, and the umpires remembered to show up.’ Back to you in the studio!”

[jg2977]

Jack Buck: “Good evening, everyone, from beautiful T-Mobile Park in Seattle — and if you’ve just joined us, well, you missed a fine one. The Mariners, backs against the wall, have taken Game 3 of this Division Series by a score of five to two over the New York Yankees. It was old-fashioned October baseball — tight, tense, and full of those little moments that make you say, ‘That’s the game right there.’”
Tim McCarver: “And Jack, this was one of those nights where patience paid off. Seattle had traffic all night — twelve hits, plenty of baserunners — but they just couldn’t get that big swing until the eighth inning. And wouldn’t you know it, the catcher, Gaetano Papasogli, jumps on the first pitch he sees from Cameron Nevarez, and drives it to deep right-center for a run-scoring double. You could feel that stadium lift.”
Jack Buck: “Oh, you really could, Tim. The place was shaking. Papasogli’s been red-hot this series — that’s his third double, and he’s hitting close to .475. When he came through, you could almost sense the whole dugout exhale.”
Tim McCarver: “And give credit to the young man on the mound — John Sandbulte. Six and two-thirds innings, only three hits, and the only real mistake was that home run he gave up to Andy Miller back in the second inning. After that, he settled right in. Used that sinker and changeup combination to keep the Yankees pounding it into the ground all night.”
Jack Buck: “He pitched like a man who didn’t want his season to end. And now the Mariners trail two games to one — they’ve got new life here in the Pacific Northwest. The crowd of 39,367 saw a club that refused to fold.”
Tim McCarver: “And if you’re New York, you can’t be too discouraged. They’ve still got the edge in the series, but they were held to just three hits tonight — that’s not going to get it done in October. And you know, Jack, when the big bats like Romero and Kim go quiet, that lineup feels a little shorter.”
Jack Buck: “Tomorrow’s another chance, Tim. That’s what makes postseason baseball so special — every day can rewrite the story. But tonight, the story belongs to the Mariners: Sandbulte’s brilliance on the mound, Papasogli’s clutch double in the eighth, and a city that still believes.”
[Pause — you can almost hear the crowd roaring as the camera pans the stands]
Jack Buck (softly, with that signature warmth): “From T-Mobile Park in Seattle, the final again — Mariners 5, Yankees 2. For Tim McCarver, I’m Jack Buck saying... so long from Seattle.”

[jg2977]

“Good evening to you, wherever you may be — a lovely Friday night here at Dodger Stadium, the kind of evening that seems made for baseball. The sky, a deep watercolor blue fading into gold, the flags dancing lazily toward left field, and forty-eight thousand strong hoping their Dodgers could keep the season alive.
And tonight… they did just that.
Los Angeles wins it, three to one, over the Milwaukee Brewers. The series is now tied at two games apiece — and oh, what a night it was for a young left-hander by the name of Willie Chavez. Seven innings, four hits, no runs, ten strikeouts. Ninety-nine pitches of artistry — a little fastball here, a teasing slider there — and that quiet conviction that told you, from the very first pitch, he wasn’t going to let this one get away.”
[soft chuckle] “If conviction had a sound, it would be the pop of the catcher’s mitt when Chavez was on the mound tonight.”
“In the third inning, the Dodgers broke through. A leadoff double by D. Sanchez, a sharp liner into the left-field corner. Then C. Brierton followed with another double down the right-field line, and just like that, Los Angeles led two to nothing. That’s all Chavez would really need — but of course, these Brewers don’t go quietly. They scratched one across in the eighth on a pinch-hit single from Benny Pytel, who must have felt about ten feet tall rounding first base.”
“But then, as the night stretched toward its finish, came W. Cortez. Two outs in the bottom of the eighth, nobody on, the crowd restless… and Cortez turned on a fastball from Caudill and sent it sailing into the pavilion in left. No doubt about it. A long home run, his second of the postseason, and a punctuation mark that said, ‘We’re not done yet.’”
“The Brewers did get one back, but that was all. Jared Kovach, the closer, came in to finish the job. It wasn’t perfect — a few anxious glances to the bullpen, a few fans chewing on fingernails — but when the final out settled into Guzman’s glove in right field, this ballpark came alive.
The Dodgers had forced a Game 5.”
[brief pause — you can almost hear the crowd hum behind him]
“Baseball is funny that way. It teases you with endings, and then reminds you it has a few more chapters left to tell. And so, on Sunday, the Dodgers and Brewers will meet again in Milwaukee — one game, winner take all.
Willie Chavez, the hero tonight, walks off into the tunnel with a quiet smile, knowing he’s given his team one more breath. And perhaps, just perhaps, that’s all they needed.”
[softly, with warmth]
“From Dodger Stadium, on a perfect October night, the final score — Los Angeles 3, Milwaukee 1. This is Vin Scully — wishing you a very pleasant good evening, wherever you may be.”

[jg2977]

At the Coliseum in Oakland tonight, baseball once again reminded us why it is the most unpredictable — and perhaps the most poetic — of games.
Game 4 of this American League Division Series had all the elements: the tension of October, the fine line between triumph and heartbreak, and a reminder that in baseball, the smallest crack in the door can become an open gate.
The Oakland Athletics, backs against the wall, refused to blink. Down two games to one, and locked in a seesaw battle with the 110-win Cleveland Indians, the A’s found a way — in extra innings, no less — to survive. They win it, 5–4 in ten, and the series now heads back to Cleveland for a decisive Game 5.
Cory Anderson, steady and poised, was everything the A’s needed him to be. Six and two-thirds innings, five hits, three runs, and the kind of resilience that doesn’t always show up in the box score. He kept his team in it long enough for the lineup — and a little bit of fate — to do the rest.
It was a night when the ball carried just enough, when every pitch seemed to matter more than the last. G. Meyer and R. Sanchez each hit solo home runs off Cleveland starter S. Ramirez, giving the A’s an early pulse. Ramirez, efficient but occasionally vulnerable, left after seven innings with the game still within reach.
Cleveland, to their credit, counterpunched. They got production from J. Santiago and Z. Eneki, both driving in key runs to keep things tight. They tied the game, they even led briefly — until the eighth inning brought chaos.
A light rain began to fall, delaying play for fifteen minutes, as if the baseball gods themselves needed a moment to catch their breath. And when the tarp came off, the game shifted. Oakland rallied for two runs in that frame, tying it 4–4 and setting the stage for what would become an unforgettable finish.
And then, in the tenth — the inning where heroes often introduce themselves — Sal Valentin did exactly that. One out, runners aboard, and the count even. Valentin, a man who’d struggled at the plate all series, lined a sharp single to right off David Girard. Ruben Hernandez came racing home, the crowd roared, and just like that, the A’s were alive again.
It was not the most elegant game, not the cleanest. There were errors, hit batters, anxious glances to the bullpen. But in October, none of that matters. What endures are the moments — the sudden sound of a walk-off hit slicing through the autumn air, the sea of white jerseys converging near first base, the belief that maybe, just maybe, the impossible can still happen.
As we head back to Cleveland, the series stands tied at two games apiece — fitting, really, for two teams that have traded blows like heavyweights all week.
Game 5 will decide it all — the 110-win juggernaut from the shores of Lake Erie, and the resilient underdogs from the Bay. One will move on. One will go home.
And as so often happens in this beautiful, maddening game, the difference between them might come down to a single swing.
From Oakland, I’m Bob Costas — and this was baseball the way it’s meant to be: uncertain, dramatic, and unforgettable.

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

New York Yankees: 10th ALCS berth
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MIKE: Alright! Back on The FAN! It’s a beautiful October Saturday, 1923 — Yankees, Mariners, Game 4 out in Seattle — and folks, the Bronx Bombers do it again. They win it 4–3, take the series three games to one, and they’re movin’ on to their fourth straight American League Championship Series.
MAD DOG: HA! FOURTH STRAIGHT! You can’t kill ‘em, Mike! You can’t! They’re like a bad cold! Every time you think you’ve got ‘em beat — they get the clutch hit, they turn the double play, and there they are again in October, same ol’ Yankees!
MIKE: Well listen, Dog, it wasn’t pretty — it was a grind, okay? Seattle actually outhit ‘em, eight to six, but the Yankees, they capitalize. They play clean baseball. No errors! Seattle kicks it around twice. That’s the difference.
MAD DOG: And the MVP of the series, Stephen Johnson! The kid was unbelievable! .333 average, two bombs, six runs batted in — that’s a man carrying the lineup, Mikey!
MIKE: Oh, absolutely. Johnson’s fifth-inning home run off Schaumburg — a laser to left — that was the difference in this ballgame. That made it 3–2, and they never gave it back.
MAD DOG: Schaumburg wasn’t bad! He gave ‘em six innings, seven strikeouts, kept ‘em in the game! But Seattle just does not hit when it matters! You leave four on base, you ground into three double plays — THREE! — you can’t do that in October, Mike!
MIKE: No, no, you can’t. And the Yankees turned three double plays themselves — Rawlings to Rivera to Romero — just crisp, professional baseball. And Sal Cantu — give that man credit — seven innings, three runs, gave the Yankees exactly what they needed.
MAD DOG: Sal Cantu! He’s the unsung hero! Everyone’s talkin’ about Johnson, but Cantu’s the guy who won this game! Seven innings, only 99 pitches, 70 for strikes — he kept the ball down, didn’t let the moment get too big. That’s big-time pitching!
MIKE: And then Nevarez out of the bullpen — two innings, only one hit — little dicey in the ninth, sure, but he closed it. They don’t ask how, they ask how many.
MAD DOG: You said it! And how about this — Yankees now await the winner of Cleveland and Oakland. That series is tied two apiece, and lemme tell ya, Mikey, if Cleveland gets through — Yankees-Indians, ALCS, that’s a WAR.
MIKE: Yeah, but don’t sleep on Oakland, Dog. They’re scrappy. They win those close games.
MAD DOG: Nah, nah, I don’t buy it. The Yankees’ll steamroll whoever it is. They’re rested, they’re confident, and that lineup — Kim, Johnson, Shackford — it’s deep. They may not hit for average, but they come up with timely hits, which is what October baseball’s all about.
MIKE: And let’s not forget — this is ten trips to the ALCS in franchise history. That’s dominance, plain and simple.
MAD DOG: Ten! TEEEEN! You gotta tip your cap. You hate ‘em, you love ‘em, doesn’t matter. The Yankees are built for this.
MIKE: Alright, final again from Seattle — Yankees 4, Mariners 3. Yankees take the series 3–1, Stephen Johnson your MVP, and they move on. Seattle? Great season, 102 wins, but they go home early. That’s October baseball.
MAD DOG: That’s the beauty of it, Mikey! You win 102 games and you’re done in four! You love this sport!
MIKE: Alright — we’ll take your calls next. Yankees move on. ALCS coming up. Stay tuned, right here, WFAN, Mike and the Mad Dog!