National Baseball League

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**��️ COWHERD ON ALCS GAME 3:
“THE YANKEES SHOWED YOU WHAT A REAL BRAND LOOKS LIKE.”**
Folks… what you saw today at Yankee Stadium?
This is what I always say about New York teams:
“When they feel threatened, when they get mocked, when the walls close in — that’s when the Yankees stop messing around.”
Seattle came in feeling good after Game 1, feeling themselves, up 1–0 in the series, dropped Game 2, but today for about ten minutes they looked like the better team.
And then the Yankees unleashed something playoff teams can’t defend against:
A superstar having a career day and a franchise saying, ‘Oh, right — we’re the Yankees.’
ALEJANDRO RIVERA — “THIS IS WHAT AN ALPHA LOOKS LIKE.”
Two home runs.
Six RBI.
A grand slam that basically sent the Mariners back to the team hotel with a sad boxed dinner.
This was an alpha performance.
Rivera is the guy in your fantasy league nobody talks about until you’re suddenly 2–6 and you check the standings and he’s 8–0. He’s efficient, he’s humble, and he absolutely destroys you when the moment calls for it.
That fourth-inning grand slam?
That’s what I always say:
“Stars get you here. Alphas move you on.”
Seattle has stars.
The Yankees have an alpha.
ON SEATTLE: “THEY’RE TALENTED… BUT THEY’RE GENEROUS.”
Look, I like Seattle. They’re fun, they’re young, they’re athletic.
But they are way too generous.
Two errors from Yáñez.
A starting pitcher with a Game Score of 12.
Walks, mistakes, bad counts, more errors.
Seattle is like that really smart kid who gets A’s on the tests but forgets to turn in the homework.
And New York?
New York is the kid who doesn't always study but never forgets the homework.
SIMONSON WAS A MESS — “LIKE A BACKUP QUARTERBACK ASKED TO RUN A TWO-MINUTE DRILL.”
Bob Simonson gave you:
3.2 innings
6 hits
9 runs
A grand slam that still hasn’t landed
Folks… this was Bad Quarterback Sunday.
He looked overwhelmed, rushed, jittery — the baseball equivalent of a Day 3 draft pick forced into a prime-time game because the starter sprained an ankle.
I’m not saying Seattle is poorly coached.
I’m just saying… you don’t give the Yankees nine runs in four innings and expect to win in October.
THE YANKEES' LINEUP — “LIKE A SEC FOOTBALL TEAM THAT BULLIES YOU FOR THREE HOURS.”
Tetsu Kawazu? Another home run.
Centeno? Doubles.
Shackford? Two-out RBI.
Fagundes? Productive at-bats.
Everything New York did was physical, intentional, layered.
This is classic Yankees baseball in this universe:
“Not always pretty. Always punishing.”
Seattle gets their hits — 11 of them, actually — but New York?
New York gets impact hits.
That’s the difference.
THE PITCHING — GOOD ENOUGH TO WIN, NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO HIDE BAD PROCESS.
Barrios wasn’t great.
Six runs, ten hits. But here’s the thing:
Sometimes October is about surviving your bad days.
Barrios survived.
Seattle didn’t.
Schoeppen closes it out like a reliable closer should — nothing electric, nothing dramatic, just two innings of “Hey Seattle, you’re not scoring again.”
THE BIG TAKEAWAY: “NEW YORK JUST REMINDED EVERYONE WHO THEY ARE.”
The Yankees now lead 2–1, and the message today was very simple:
“You can have the analytics.
You can have the vibes.
But when October arrives, hard contact and big moments still matter.”
Seattle blinked.
New York pounced.
And Game 4?
Seattle better bring their grown-up pants, because the Yankees just flipped the momentum of this series with one swing — Rivera’s swing — and the Mariners still look a little rattled.

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Atlanta Braves: 2nd NL Pennant
1911 1927

**COLIN COWHERD:
“THE BRAVES AREN’T JUST WINNING — THEY’RE BECOMING A REAL AMERICAN SPORTS BRAND AGAIN.”**
Folks… every October, there’s always one team that doesn’t just win — they announce themselves.
And today?
That team was the Atlanta Braves.
A 4–0 sweep.
A 7–1 clincher on the road.
First pennant in 16 years, since 1911 — back when silent movies were still cutting-edge and baseball gloves still looked like leather oven mitts.
This isn’t luck.
This isn’t a fluky run.
This is what I always say:
“When the grown-ups arrive, the room starts to feel different.”
Atlanta walked into Milwaukee — a place that has been a graveyard for visiting teams — and controlled every pitch, every at-bat, every moment.
**JONATHAN LEDGER —
“THE HOMETOWN KID WHO JUST LIT UP OCTOBER.”**
This is why sports are great.
Jonathan Ledger.
Monroe, Georgia.
An hour from Atlanta — practically a local.
People down there probably know his family, went to school with his cousins, drive past the Ledger Hardware Store on the way to work.
And what does the kid do?
7.2 innings.
7 hits.
1 run.
A Game Score of 62.
Absolute command.
This wasn’t a star.
This was a story.
Atlanta has had aces.
They’ve had fireballers.
They’ve had big personalities.
But this — this was the hometown kid saying:
“Climb on. I’ll drive us to the World Series.”
You can’t buy that.
You can’t trade for that.
You can’t analytics your way into that.
This was heart.
This was poise.
This was a Georgia kid delivering a southern masterpiece.
ON MILWAUKEE — “THEY’RE GOOD, BUT THEY’RE NOT BUILT FOR OCTOBER.”
Milwaukee is one of those teams — and I say this all the time — who look great in June.
Pretty stats.
Fun players.
Lots of energy.
But you get to October?
And suddenly the flaws aren’t cracks — they’re canyons.
Two errors today.
Ten runners left on base.
A starting pitcher with an ERA over eight in the series.
You can’t fake toughness in the playoffs.
And the Braves?
They’ve been forged by years of frustration.
Milwaukee is talented.
But Atlanta is familial.
There’s a difference.
TROY McKNIGHT — “THE MVP WHO DOESN’T NEED TO TELL YOU HE’S THE MVP.”
McKnight is the guy who walks into a room and doesn’t say much — but you look up and say:
"Oh. That guy’s in charge."
.412 in the series
A .444 OBP
2 home runs
5 runs scored
A momentum-killing homer in Game 3
Stolen bases, defense, leadership
This is what I always say:
“There’s a difference between a talented player and an important one.”
McKnight isn’t flashy.
He isn’t loud.
He isn’t seeking viral clips.
He just wins. Over and over.
That’s the MVP.
**THIS SERIES TOLD YOU SOMETHING BIGGER:
“ATLANTA IS BACK.”**
Baseball’s more fun when Atlanta is good.
I’m not a historian — but I’m aware enough to know that a franchise with a World Series win in 1911 and then silence for over a decade isn’t just hungry…
They’re starving.
And what we’re seeing now?
This is a team with:
An MVP-type bat
A hometown ace
A bullpen that doesn’t blink
A lineup that steals bases, hits for power, and forces mistakes
Actual identity — something most teams try to invent instead of earn
Atlanta didn’t squeak by.
Atlanta didn’t survive.
Atlanta imposed their will.
That’s what October baseball looks like.
**THE BIG PICTURE:
“THIS IS A TEAM BUILT FOR THE MOMENT.”**
Whether it’s Seattle or the Yankees — and let’s be honest, New York looks like the more complete matchup — the Braves are not some cute Cinderella.
They’re the heavyweight who finally got back in the ring.
The pennant isn’t a surprise.
It’s a coronation.
And the World Series?
If Ledger pitches like this again?
If McKnight continues to be that guy?
Atlanta’s not just back.
Atlanta might be the team to beat.

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COLIN COWHERD — ALCS GAME 4 MONOLOGUE
You know… every postseason, there’s that one game where the truth comes out. Not the branding, not the mythology, not the pinstripes or the Pacific Northwest charm — the truth about who you actually are.
And Game 4 at Yankee Stadium?
Yeah. That was a truth-teller.
Because Seattle — the team with the reputation for coming up small, the franchise that’s turned “ALCS appearance” into a cottage industry — walked right into the house of baseball’s cathedral, into the most pressurized ballpark in the sport… and they didn’t blink. In fact, they didn’t even flinch.
They just hit. And hit. And hit some more.
Nineteen hits. Nineteen. Against the Yankees. In their building. In a game New York could have taken complete control of the series. That’s not scrappy, that’s not cute, that’s not “hey look, they’re hanging in there.”
That is big-boy baseball.
That is grown-up baseball.
That is “we’re not impressed by your history” baseball.
Matt Campbell? He looked like the best right fielder in the world. Four hits. Calm. Professional. Almost bored with the moment. That's what stars look like. Not loud, not dramatic — just productive.
And Jonathan Gonzales? Look, there are guys who shrink when the contract kicks in… and then there are guys who justify the direct deposit. Three hits, three RBI, and every one of them felt like a body shot the Yankees never recovered from.
Seattle wasn’t lucky. They weren’t opportunistic. They were better. More poised. More prepared. More physical in the batter’s box. This series has tilted — you can feel it.
And New York?
Look, I’ve said this for years: the Yankees have become the great American brand without being the great American team. The stadium is full, the jerseys are iconic, the mystique is marketed beautifully… but when you give up a six-run eighth inning at home in October? That’s not mystique. That’s not aura. That’s a bullpen getting run over by a truck.
Jorge Abdul-Ra’uf — a 10.97 ERA in the series — that’s not championship pitching, that’s a Google search for “help.”
Seattle punched first, punched harder, and then in the eighth inning? They basically punched through the wall.
The series is tied 2-2 — but it doesn’t feel tied. It feels like Seattle is the grown-up in the room, and New York is hoping the brand does the heavy lifting.
And tomorrow?
We find out if the Yankees have one of those classic “New York moments”…
or if the Mariners — the team with all the ghosts, all the ALCS scars — just keep walking right past the velvet rope and into baseball’s biggest room.
This thing just got real.

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WHERE I WAS RIGHT…
Seattle’s talent is real.
I said before the series: Seattle’s not just happy to be here. They’re not a cute story. They have real players who can string together tough at-bats, who don’t shrink in big moments.
Nineteen hits in Yankee Stadium? That’s not random. That’s not weather-aided. That’s a lineup that travels.
Matt Campbell is an emerging star.
Listen, I’ve been on Matt Campbell for weeks now. He’s what I call “Low-Maintenance Elite.” No drama, no theatrics — just production. Four hits, all of them professional. Stars make the game feel slow in big moments, and Campbell made October look like April batting practice.
The Yankees’ bullpen is shaky.
I said it. I was right. And in the eighth inning? It was a tire fire. New York’s bullpen right now is like having a luxury car with the check-engine light on: looks great, drives fast, but every mile you’re wondering when something blows up.
WHERE I WAS WRONG…
I gave the Yankees too much credit for being “the adult in the room.”
Yeah… that one’s on me.
Yesterday looked less like adulthood and more like a toddler melting down in aisle 9 of a grocery store. The Yankees weren’t composed. They weren’t polished. They were reactive, emotional, tense — everything I didn’t think they’d be at home.
I thought Abdul-Ra’uf would bounce back.
He didn’t bounce back — he bounced around. Seven runs, fourteen hits, and by the middle innings it looked like Seattle had the scouting report, the answers, and the cheat code. You can’t give up that many barrels and pretend it’s strategy. I was flat-out wrong here.
I said Game 4 would be about “Yankee urgency.”
What I saw wasn’t urgency — it was panic. The at-bats got rushed. The fielding got sloppy. The vibe was off from pitch one. Seattle looked like the calm, composed team; New York looked like the brand trying to convince itself it still has mystique.
BOTTOM LINE
Game 4 flipped the series mood.
I was right about Seattle’s potential… but wrong about which team looked like the heavyweight.
And it’s a reminder — in October baseball, narratives turn faster than a New York minute.
Tomorrow?
We might be doing this segment in reverse.

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COLIN COWHERD — ALCS GAME 5 TAKE
“Look, there are turning points in sports — moments, games, single innings — where you can feel the story shift. And Game 5? That was a tectonic plate move. That was the sport telling you, ‘Yeah… the better constructed team might not be the one with 27 banners in an alternate universe.’”
Seattle isn’t a fluke — they’re a formula.
This wasn’t luck. This wasn’t noise. This was organizational clarity.
Seven-run third inning on the road? That’s not random. That’s not chaotic. That’s what I call stacked, layered, grown-up baseball.
Seattle didn’t panic after going down 4–0.
They didn’t rush at-bats.
They didn’t get tight.
The Mariners looked like a team with a plan.
New York looked like a team with a brand.
Those are two very different things.
Jonah Waring is the soul of this team.
Some guys are stars. Some guys are leaders. Waring is both.
He’s the classic Cowherd Guy: productive, overlooked, accountable, and totally unfazed by the moment.
Three hits, four RBIs, and a quote afterward that sounded like something out of a leadership seminar:
“You need to show up when your number’s called.”
That’s what winners say.
Not excuses, not theatrics — production.
The Yankees? This is who they are now.
Talented. Flashy. Emotional. Sometimes explosive.
But unstable in the middle innings.
They come out hot — they fade faster than they should.
This team punches you early, then spends six innings trying to remember why it worked.
Shamar Beeman looked rattled. The defense was uneven. The vibe was off.
At home. In October.
That's a red flag the size of Manhattan.
Seattle’s bullpen did something New York couldn’t: hold the rope.
I. Dickey wasn’t sharp early — but he competed.
He settled.
He stabilized.
He bought time for the offense to avalanche.
Cosio and Morales did exactly the job playoff relievers need to do:
Not perfect — professional.
When New York needed shutdown innings, they got chaos.
When Seattle needed it, they got discipline.
Narrative of the series has flipped.
Three days ago New York was “the adult in the room.”
Now Seattle’s the CEO, the CFO, and the guy with the key to the building.
And this is the part people miss:
Momentum in baseball isn’t about emotion. It’s about solving matchups.
Seattle has solved the Yankees’ staff.
New York has not solved Seattle’s depth.
This is now Seattle’s series to lose.
They’re going home.
They’re confident.
They’re comfortable.
They’ve got the bats, the bullpen, and — suddenly — the identity.
You can’t fake identity in October.
New York is searching for theirs.
Seattle found it in the third inning.

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Seattle Mariners: 1st AL Pennant
1927

COLIN COWHERD — “THE YANKEES ARE A BRAND, THE MARINERS ARE A BALLCLUB”
ALCS GAME 6 — SEATTLE 5, NEW YORK 4 (11 INNINGS)
“Look, some games aren’t just games. They’re verdicts. They’re revelations. They’re the sport telling you a truth you’ve been trying to avoid.
And last night in Seattle?
The truth was loud, clear, and wearing navy and northwest green.”
Seattle didn’t just win a game — they won an identity.
This was Big Boy Baseball.
This was resilience, poise, and what I call organizational adulthood.
Down early. Scuffling at the plate. Their starter gives up 12 hits.
And what do they do?
They chip away.
They defend.
They stabilize.
They take punches and don’t flinch.
Good teams win when things go right.
Grown-up teams win when things go wrong.
Seattle is officially a grown-up team.
Matt Campbell is the face of the franchise — and of the moment.
This is what stars do.
Not influencers. Not hype machines.
Stars.
Campbell goes 3-for-5.
Hits the walk-off in the 11th.
Wins the series MVP.
He’s not flashy, he’s not dramatic — he’s productive.
He’s what I call “West Coast Derek Jeter,” minus the Manhattan spotlight and plus the lumberjack stoicism.
You wanna bury the Yankees?
You need a Campbell.
Seattle has one.
The Yankees? This was their season in a nutshell.
Twelve hits. Four runs. Four errors.
That’s the Yankees right now:
Talented but sloppy. Flashy but unfocused. Capable of brilliance, allergic to execution.
They’ve now lost six straight ALCS.
SIX.
At some point you stop calling it bad luck and start calling it who you are.
Cleveland wasn’t here to torment them.
No chokepoint villain.
No bogeyman.
Just Seattle — focused, disciplined, and better in the moments that matter.
The Yankees are close.
But close isn’t a plan.
Close isn’t enough.
Close gets you exactly where they landed:
Watching someone else celebrate on your field of dreams.
Seattle’s bullpen was the difference. Again.
Chavez was shaky.
Clay was solid.
Morales closed the door.
New York’s pen?
Couldn’t hold a four-run lead.
Couldn’t hold a tie.
Couldn’t hold a season together.
This sport inevitably comes down to bullpens and big moments.
Seattle won both.
This game was the passing of a torch — and Seattle earned it.
A walk-off homer.
A fanbase in tears.
A franchise going to its first World Series ever.
The Mariners didn’t luck into this.
They evolved into this.
They solved the Yankees.
They solved the moment.
This is what ascension looks like.
This is how new powers rise.
Next up: Atlanta.
A classic franchise, a former champion, and a team that just steamrolled Milwaukee.
But if you think Seattle’s intimidated?
You haven’t been watching.
This isn’t the scrappy underdog.
This isn’t the cute story.
This is a ballclub with stars, swagger, and a clear identity.

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1927 LCS Results

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1927 World Series

Atlanta won a World Series back in 1911.
Seattle is here for the first time.
The two best teams in baseball go at it.

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BOB COSTAS – WORLD SERIES GAME 1 OPENING RECAP MONOLOGUE
Atlanta 6, Seattle 4 — October 26, 1927
On a crisp October afternoon in Seattle, beneath skies that shifted between pale light and soft cloud, the long-awaited dream of a Pacific Northwest World Series finally took form. For a franchise making its first appearance on baseball’s grandest stage, the Mariners entered Game 1 buoyed by a city’s belief, a postseason of breakthroughs, and the memory of triumph just two days prior.
But baseball, in all its timeless wisdom, offers no deference to sentiment. Its stage, as ever, belongs to the team best able to seize the moment.
And today, that team was the Atlanta Braves.
Seattle struck first on a ringing triple from Matt Johnston, a tone-setting blow met with a roar from 39,000 inside T-Mobile Park. But almost immediately, Atlanta answered — and that would become the rhythm of this game. The Braves didn’t overwhelm with spectacle; instead, they delivered the kind of steady, unblinking resolve that championship teams often reveal in the early innings of an October series.
Lorenzo Enriquez set the tone with a pair of doubles, each struck with the authority of a man who understood the stakes. Atlanta’s fourth inning — three runs built on contact, opportunism, and a Seattle starter, Bob Simonson, who struggled to find the edges — pushed the Braves into the lead and the Mariners briefly onto their heels.
Yet this Seattle club, forged through a postseason of tightrope acts and late-inning heroics, refused to go quietly. In the bottom of the sixth, Enrique Moreno’s soaring home run — his first of the postseason — rekindled the hope of a comeback, trimming the deficit to a single run and momentarily restoring the electricity that had filled the building from the first pitch.
But in games like this, moments become magnified. And in the top of the eighth, with the park hushed and the tension unmistakable, Paul Joseph delivered the swing that will linger in the memory of this opening chapter. A solo home run, struck cleanly and confidently, stretching the lead to 6–4 — restoring order for the Braves, and pulling the afternoon unmistakably in their direction.
Mitchell Winney, in relief for Seattle, was excellent — 5.1 innings of stout, determined work, keeping his club within striking distance. But each late Mariners threat faded before Atlanta’s bullpen, and Alex Sandoval — unbeaten, unbothered, and unyielding this October — secured the final outs with the calm efficiency of a man thoroughly at home on this stage.
And so, in a Game 1 defined by tension rather than dominance, Atlanta leaves Seattle with a 1–0 series lead and, perhaps, a subtle reminder: that experience, steadiness, and the ability to meet the moment pitch by pitch often define October more than raw power or crowd-driven adrenaline.
For the Mariners, the path is familiar — they’ve been tested before, pushed to the brink before, and answered each time. For the Braves, the opportunity is clear: a chance to seize early control and bring a championship dream into sharper focus.
Game 2 arrives tomorrow. And with it, another chapter in a World Series that already feels like it could be an October classic.

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COLIN COWHERD — GAME 1 REACTION MONOLOGUE
“Atlanta’s the grown-up. Seattle’s the kid who studied hard but forgot their lunch.”
“Well… well… well.
This is why I always say: October exposes you. It doesn’t care about your momentum. It doesn’t care about your heartwarming story. It doesn’t care that Seattle’s never been to a World Series. It cares about who you are when the lights hit you.
And folks…
Atlanta looked like the grown-up in the room. Seattle looked like the kid who tried really hard.”
“Seattle came in loud, emotional, caffeinated… but shaky.”
“You ever see a startup tech company give a TED Talk? They’ve got the passion, the slides, the vision… and then somebody asks a real question, and the whole thing unravels?
That was Seattle in Game 1.
They punch first. They get the crowd going. Nice triple, great energy.
But then — as I’ve been saying all postseason — they don’t handle prosperity well. They don’t stack good innings. They don’t respond after their own big moments.
Atlanta gets punched?
They shrug.
They go to work.
One run. Then another. Then another.
No panic. No overreactions. Just baseball.”
“Bob Simonson? I’m sorry — this is what he is.”
“I like him. I do.
Nice story, good arm, efficient when he's on.
But he’s not an ace. We gotta stop pretending he is.
In October, your starter has to give you a cushion — not put you in a hole.
Atlanta worked him.
They made him uncomfortable.
They took away his first-pitch fastball.
And once that happened? He was just… average.”
“Atlanta? That’s a machine. It’s a mature, established franchise.”
“You ever watch those aviation videos where a pilot calmly handles a midair emergency?
That was Atlanta.
Crowd’s loud? Fine.
Seattle ties it? Fine.
Moreno goes deep? Fine.
They just keep tapping the brakes, keep the thing on the runway.
Lorenzo Enriquez — grown-up at-bats.
Paul Joseph — that’s a professional home run.
Sandoval — closing like he’s ordering coffee.
No panic. No drama. Just efficiency.”
“And can we be honest about Winney?”
“The kid was actually GREAT.
That’s the funny part.
Seattle’s bullpen — the group I’ve been skeptical of — gave them every chance.
But if you’re relying on your long reliever to save you in Game 1 of the World Series?
It tells me you’re not quite there yet.”
“Seattle’s not broken — they’re just… emotional.”
“They play baseball like a garage band.
Sometimes it’s electric, sometimes it’s sloppy, but it’s never boring.
They can absolutely win Game 2.
But they gotta calm down.
Atlanta?
They walk into the studio, plug in the guitar, and give you a perfect set every night.”
“Conclusion: Game 1 didn’t end the series, but it revealed it.”
“Seattle can win this thing —
but they have to grow up fast.
Atlanta just reminded everybody why experience matters in October.
Seattle’s fun.
Atlanta’s formidable.
And THAT, folks… is the difference.”

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COLIN COWHERD — GAME 2 RECAP
“This… THIS is the Seattle I’ve been begging to see.”
“Folks… this is why sports are great.
Game 1? Atlanta looked like the adult in the room. Calm, clean, composed.
Game 2? Seattle walked in with the most mature inning of their entire postseason.
And let me start here:
This is who the Mariners can be.
Not emotional.
Not rattled.
Not the garage band.
This was a Grammy-level performance.”
“Seattle didn’t just win — they announced themselves.”
“You score SEVEN in the second inning?
That’s not momentum.
That’s not luck.
That’s a statement.
It’s you walking into the dinner party saying, ‘Actually, we’re important now.’
And Gaetano Papasogli — let’s just call him what he is:
He’s their engine.
He’s the adult in their room.
Three hits, drives in two, steals a bag, calls a brilliant game behind the plate.
When he’s locked in, Seattle’s whole identity sharpens.”
“Jonathan Ledger? That was Halloween early — scary.”
“Look, I've been on this.
Ledger’s a finesse guy.
He needs comfort.
He needs rhythm.
And T-Mobile Park gave him neither.
Seattle crowd?
LOUD.
Rowdy.
Borderline unfair.
You could see it:
He missed spots, he sped up, he got predictable, and Seattle pounced.
Seven runs in 11 batters — that’s not ‘adjustments,’ that’s overwhelm.”
“Magana is the opposite of Ledger — he thrives on chaos.”
“Every year there’s a guy in October who isn’t pretty, isn’t perfect, but just gives you grown-man innings.
That’s Oscar Magana.
Pitches into the 8th.
107 pitches.
Never flinched.
Atlanta’s a terrific lineup — and he made them look reactive.
He got stronger as the game went on.”
“Atlanta? This is their flaw — they’re great front-runners, not great climbers.”
“Atlanta punches you early?
You’re in trouble.
But when THEY get punched?
They’re not built for uphill baseball.
Look at the numbers:
Six hits
Zero extra-base hits after the first inning
No sustained rallies
No emotional reply to Seattle’s haymaker
I said this before the series:
When Atlanta trails, they go into this ‘hero swing’ mode.
Everyone tries to win the game with one swing.
That’s not October baseball.”
“Seattle ran the bases like a track team, not a baseball team.”
“This is important.
Seattle stole bases, went first-to-third, hit sac flies, executed situational baseball.
THIS — not the home runs, not the noise — THIS is what wins in October.”
“After two games, the series hasn’t shifted — it’s been revealed.”
“Here’s the truth about this series:
Atlanta is the more polished team.
Seattle is the more explosive team.
Game 1 was Atlanta’s personality.
Game 2 was Seattle’s.
And here’s the takeaway:
Seattle can win in Atlanta.
They proved today that they don’t need the ballpark’s adrenaline or the chaos to dominate.
They just need to be the smarter version of themselves.”
“My conclusion? Seattle just put the Braves on notice.”
“This wasn’t a cute little bounce-back win.
This was Seattle saying:
‘If you make mistakes, we will bury you.’
They didn’t just tie the series.
They shifted the energy.
And heading into Game 3?
Atlanta suddenly feels a little tight.
Seattle suddenly feels very dangerous.”

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COLIN COWHERD — GAME 3 RECAP
“This is why you don’t bet against experience.”
“Alright, folks, let’s cut to the heart of it.
Game 2? Seattle looked like the team that could shock Atlanta, that could punch back, that could make you believe.
Game 3? Atlanta reminded everyone why you never count them out — especially at home.”
“Hector Garcia — the difference-maker.”
“Listen to this: 7 innings. Three hits. No runs. Atlanta wins 6-1.
You want to know what happened? Seattle got a masterclass in right-handed pitching.
Garcia didn’t overpower them — he dismantled them. Off-balance, chasing pitches, grinding at-bats.
This isn’t just a win. This is a lesson in October baseball:
Good teams don’t always need fireworks; sometimes they just need execution.”
“Seattle’s lineup — talented but impatient.”
“Look, they had opportunities. M. Johnston singles, V. Yanez drives in a run — they got on base.
But 10 runners left in scoring position? That’s not mistakes; that’s youth meeting pressure.
You can’t win a World Series leaving that many runners on base. Not against a team that can pitch like Garcia.”
“Atlanta’s offense — timely, efficient, veteran-level.”
“Paul Joseph, T. McKnight, M. Ocampo, M. Carranza — they don’t swing for heroics.
They swing for baseball IQ, and it shows.
They capitalized in the 4th, the 5th, the 7th — every time Seattle tried to sneak back in, Atlanta’s offense said: ‘Not today.’
This is the difference between a team that’s talented and a team that’s built for October.”
“I’m going to be blunt — Seattle needs adjustments.”
“Let’s not kid ourselves: this is a series. It’s tied 2-1, but Game 3 revealed the blueprint.
Seattle can’t just rely on adrenaline and crowd energy.
They can’t rely on Papasogli hitting like he’s a man possessed.
They need strategy. They need patience. They need to force the Braves off their game.
Right now, the Braves are calm, collected, and confident.
Seattle? They’re still explosive… but they’re on someone else’s terms.”
“Takeaways?”
Hector Garcia is an absolute game-changer.
Atlanta’s lineup doesn’t need home runs — just timing, focus, and execution.
Seattle can still win — but the margin for error just got smaller.
If the Mariners don’t adjust tomorrow, the series could tilt quickly.
“Colin’s closing thought:
Game 3 isn’t just a win for Atlanta — it’s a reminder.
In October, experience, execution, and composure beat firepower, hype, and potential every single time.
Seattle has talent. They have passion. But passion alone doesn’t win championships.”

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COLIN COWHERD — GAME 4 RECAP
“You can have talent, you can have hype, but in October, it’s execution or bust.”
“Let’s be real — Seattle came into Atlanta trying to reclaim the series.
They had a shot. Game 2 showed us they could swing, they could hit, they could ignite the crowd.
Game 4? That ship sailed… at least for now.”
“Manny Rivera — the definition of October pitcher.”
“Seven innings, five hits, two runs. No team rallies. Atlanta wins 7-2.
This is exactly what you want from a veteran right-hander in the postseason. He’s calm, precise, confident.
Seattle’s hitters? They looked lost, chasing, guessing, overthinking every pitch.
Look, this isn’t about bad swings. It’s about timing, discipline, and mental edge.
Manny Rivera has all three.”
“Seattle’s mistakes cost them.”
“Errors. Four of them. Four!
You can’t leave the game in the hands of your pitching and hitting if you’re going to give away outs like that.
Seattle has the talent — Gonzales hits a home run, Rodriguez drives in a run — but mistakes compound in October.
By the 6th inning, the Mariners were playing catch-up in a game that had already slipped through their fingers.”
“Atlanta’s offense — efficient, ruthless, unshakable.”
“Carranza delivers the go-ahead single in the 6th. Fernandez drives in a run in the 5th. Qualls, Enriquez, McKnight — all contributing.
This is not flash; this is precision under pressure.
This is why Atlanta is 3-1 in this series. They don’t need heroics. They need execution — and they’ve got it in spades.”
“Takeaways — the series is on the brink.”
Atlanta has control. Three wins, one loss. Seattle’s margin for error? Nonexistent.
Seattle has talent but hasn’t figured out how to impose their will.
Errors and missed opportunities are what kill teams in October.
If Seattle wants to extend this series, they need adjustment, poise, and the kind of focus you can’t fake.
“Colin’s bottom line:
Game 4 wasn’t a fluke.
Atlanta’s veterans, their clutch hitting, and Rivera on the mound put Seattle in a hole.
The Mariners can still fight back, but right now, this World Series feels like Atlanta’s to lose.
And in October baseball, losing control of a series is exactly what happens when mistakes meet execution. Seattle better learn fast — because Atlanta isn’t giving anything away.”