National Baseball League

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1928 World Series

1928 WORLD SERIES PREVIEW: DETROIT TIGERS VS. PITTSBURGH PIRATES
Alright folks, let’s cut to the chase. You’ve got the Detroit Tigers — a team that’s been grinding, clawing, and now finally punching their ticket to the World Series for the first time in 22 years. This is their third appearance ever, and the way they dismantled the Mariners in the ALCS, 17-13 in the clincher, tells you everything you need to know: they can hit, they can run, they can score in bunches, and they’ve got some real veterans who know how to close games. Gilberto Cisneros? Series MVP. He’s the guy, I’m telling you. He hits everywhere, does a little bit of everything — power, speed, situational hitting. The Tigers’ lineup is deep. They’re not just one or two guys; Carbigos, Fleming, Duran, Macario — this team spreads the wealth.
Now, the Pirates. Oh boy. These guys are dangerous. Juan Rivera is unreal — .600 average, 7 HR, 14 RBI, 14 runs scored in the postseason. That’s not a fluke. And don’t forget Isidro Pruneda, who’s basically been untouchable, batting .567 with 11 homers and 40 RBIs. His inside-the-park three-run homer in Game 5? Game-changer. Pittsburgh has firepower, they have clutch performers, and they’ve shown they can come back from anything — 14-12 in a game they trailed 10-3. That’s a team that believes, that fights, that thrives under pressure.
So what does that mean for this series? It’s going to be high-scoring, relentless, and exciting. Pitching? Neither team’s staff is going to dominate consistently. This isn’t 1920s-style small ball; this is slugfest baseball. Detroit’s offense has been electric, but Pittsburgh has shown they’ll never go quietly.
Prediction? I’m leaning Tigers in 7. Why? Experience and depth. They’ve had time to gel, they’ve handled pressure, they’ve got a lineup that can take advantage of Pittsburgh’s uneven pitching. Pittsburgh’s going to hang around, hit some big shots, make it messy, maybe steal a couple of games on the road, but ultimately, the Tigers’ balance and depth gives them the edge. This is Detroit’s year. After 22 years, it’s about time.
Mark my words: we’re going to see some of the most entertaining, back-and-forth baseball of this decade. Big swings, inside-the-park excitement, and, yeah, probably a couple of 10-run innings. Buckle up.

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WORLD SERIES GAME 1 — COSTAS STYLE
On an autumn afternoon in Detroit, where the chill in the air was matched only by the anticipation of a city starved for a championship, baseball once again reminded us why it holds such a lasting place in the American imagination.
Before a crowd of 48,802 at Comerica Park — a ballpark whose steel and brick seem to echo with the ghosts of seasons past — the Tigers and Pirates opened the 1928 Fall Classic not with a cautious feeling-out process, but with a full-throated roar. By the time the final out was recorded, Detroit had outslugged Pittsburgh, 16–12, in a game that felt less like the first step in a best-of-seven series and more like the frenzied middle chapters of an epic.
And at the center of it all stood Mario Pedraza, Detroit’s burly designated hitter, who authored one of the most remarkable World Series performances in recent memory — or any memory.
Pedraza didn’t merely have a good day. He didn’t merely have a big day.
He hit for the cycle — the home run in the first, the triple in the third, the double in the seventh, the single tucked in along the way — a complete catalogue of offensive craftsmanship, delivered on the sport’s grandest stage.
He scored four runs, drove in three, and seemed, at times, to orbit the game at a different speed from everyone else. There are great postseason players, and then there are players who rise to the moment in a way that becomes part of the very fabric of October. Pedraza, at least for this afternoon, belonged squarely in the latter category.
But Game 1 was far from a one-man show.
The third inning — five Detroit runs crashing down on Pittsburgh’s Tom Loder — featured Antonio Galindo launching a three-run homer that seemed to ignite the entire ballpark. Galindo would hit two on the day, driving in four, playing as though he too was determined to etch his name into the Series’ early pages.
Troy Fleming, the ever-steady second baseman, collected three hits of his own, including a towering seventh-inning homer that felt like a cornerstone in Detroit’s unyielding offensive architecture. Nate Lawson added a home run in the eighth, as if to punctuate the point: on this day, the Tigers were simply relentless.
Pittsburgh, to its credit, did what Pittsburgh has done all October — they struck, and they struck hard.
Matt Croke was superb, driving in six and homering as part of an eight-run pirate push across the third and eighth innings. Victor Barros homered as well. The fearsome Isidro Pruneda, who has spent this postseason rewriting offensive expectations entirely, was held quiet by his standards — 1-for-5 — yet even his mere presence seemed to hang over every pitch Detroit threw.
But this game — wild, unrestrained, beautifully imperfect — belonged to Detroit. It belonged to their fans, who roared as if releasing decades of pent-up longing. And it belonged to Pedraza, whose bat guided the Tigers to a 1–0 series lead.
And so the 1928 World Series opens not with a whisper, but with a thunderclap — a reminder that baseball, in all its unpredictability and charm, still knows how to astonish.
Tomorrow brings Game 2. The stage remains the same, but as baseball always reminds us, no two games are ever alike.
In Detroit tonight, though, the story is simple.
The Tigers have drawn first blood.
And Mario Pedraza has given this World Series its first iconic moment.

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VIN SCULLY-STYLE GAME 2 RECAP — 1928 WORLD SERIES
Detroit Tigers 18, Pittsburgh Pirates 6
Tigers lead series, 2–0
On a crisp October afternoon in Detroit—51 degrees, the kind of weather where the bite in the air almost matches the bite in the pitches—the Tigers and Pirates gathered again, for Game 2 of this growing drama called the World Series. And before long, well… it felt less like a drama and more like a runaway train wearing navy and orange.
You could almost hear the old ballpark whisper, “Settle in… this one may take a while.” And it did.
The Pirates scored first—always polite guests—but Detroit, well, Detroit answered right back. Two outs in the bottom of the first, Gilberto Cisneros faced Jim Schmitt. Cisneros, who swings the bat as though it’s a conductor’s baton, sent a two-run homer into the autumn air. Just like that, the Tigers had a 2–1 lead, and the fuse had been lit.
In the second inning, the Tigers scored six runs… and in the third, four more… and in the fourth, another four. Runs flowing like water cutting through stone, inning after inning. At one point, Detroit had scored in five of their first four innings—yes, that’s right—and the Pirates must’ve wondered if the scorekeeper would eventually start charging them rent on the basepaths.
And then there was Santiago Macario.
Macario, the right fielder with the quiet eyes and confident stride, reached base five times—two hits, three walks. Scored three runs. Drove in two. And did it all with that calm, almost gentlemanly aura that makes you think he’d apologize to the baseball after hitting it too hard.
When he ripped a bases-clearing double in the second inning, the crowd didn’t roar so much as rise—that gentle lift of a stadium that knows something special is blooming.
Mario Pedraza joined the fun with a three-run homer in the third, his fourth of this remarkable postseason. Pedraza collects big moments the way some folks collect postcards. And P. Carbigos—who has been hitting over .500 this postseason as casually as one might stroll to the corner store—added a three-run shot of his own in the fourth.
Meanwhile, Tigers starter Tyler Wesley battled through 7 and 2/3 innings, giving up hits but not heart. In a game where the scoreboard looked like a pinball machine that had lost all restraint, Wesley was the calm in the center of the storm.
For Pittsburgh, there were bright spots—Javier Rivera with four hits, Mattl Croke with a home run, Toledano and Ortega fighting to the final out. A noble effort on a long, uphill afternoon.
But today belonged to Detroit.
When the dust finally settled, the Tigers had 18 runs, 13 hits, and a 2–0 series lead that feels as comfortable as a warm coat on a cold Michigan night.
And somewhere in the clubhouse afterward, with the cheers fading behind him, Santiago Macario probably smiled that quiet smile of his—never too high, never too low. Just grateful to play this beautiful game another day.
Game 3 now heads to Pittsburgh, where the Pirates will try to steady themselves, and Detroit will try to keep the music playing.
And as always…
“There’s nothing like October baseball.”

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COLIN COWHERD-STYLE POSTGAME TAKE
You know, every World Series writes its own little story, but THIS one—Detroit 12, Pittsburgh 9—this was classic Tigers. This was what I always talk about: organizational clarity. Detroit knows exactly what they are. They’re aggressive, they’re loud offensively, and they don’t apologize for it.
And Pittsburgh? Look, I love the Pirates. Great story, fun team, amazing stars. But right now they’re like a startup that grew too fast. Lots of talent, lots of flash, but when the pressure hits? They get a little chaotic. You saw it today.
Let’s dive in.
Detroit: The Adults in the Room
Detroit walks into PNC Park—a tough place to play, loud crowd, backs of the Pirates against the wall—and they just take the air out of the building immediately.
Alexis Duran—two homers, multiple big moments, big-game DNA. That’s a CEO performance. He’s not sitting around waiting for the market to stabilize; he IS the stabilizer.
Mario Pedraza—two triples, a homer, four hits—like a tech stock that just refuses to dip. When everyone else is panicking, he's surging.
Santiago Macario, who at this point is just ridiculous in October, hits the go-ahead two-run shot in the 7th and basically says, “Relax, I’ve got this.”
And Tony Osegueda? The manager? Cool, calm, unbothered. This is what functional organizations look like.
Pittsburgh: The Chaos Factory
Pittsburgh’s third inning was fantastic—an eight-run explosion. That’s their identity: they punch fast, they punch hard, they overwhelm you.
Pruneda, Pitre, Croke—all launch homers. For three minutes you think the Pirates are back in this series.
But then… the bullpen.
And this bullpen isn’t bad. It’s just mercurial. One inning you get dominance, the next inning you get a tire fire. A Diaz? Rough outing. Breland? Didn’t record an out. It’s not sustainable.
And again: DETROIT knows who they are. PITTSBURGH hopes they know who they are.
There’s a difference.
The Moment That Defined Everything
Top of the 7th. Detroit down 8-7.
You’ve survived the third inning meltdown. You’ve weathered a lineup that’s been destroying the ball all postseason.
And Macario steps up and hits a grown-man home run.
That was the series.
Where We Stand
Detroit up 3-0.
They’re the big, physical football team that leans on you for three quarters and wins by attrition in the fourth. You can hang for a while—maybe even jump ahead—but it’s just too much.
Pittsburgh? They’re fun. They’re electric. But they’re leaking oil. And you don’t beat a machine like Detroit while leaking oil.
Cowherd’s Verdict
Detroit is winning this series.
Not because Pittsburgh isn’t good—they ARE good. Sometimes great.
But Detroit’s the Best Version of Themselves more often.
And that’s the difference between a World Series champion and a good story.
Game 4 tomorrow. Pittsburgh’s season on the line. Detroit smelling champagne.
But right now?
This thing feels over.

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COLIN COWHERD REACTS — TIGERS @ PIRATES, GAME 4 (10/25/1928)
“This is what unreliable teams do.”
Folks, this game — Tigers 12, Pirates 13 — this is classic, vintage, textbook Pittsburgh. It’s the Pirates doing the thing that hope-addicted franchises always do. They’ll be down 3-0 in a series, look completely overmatched, and then—bam—they wake up, score 7 runs in the second inning like they’ve been saving it for a charity event, and suddenly everybody in Western Pennsylvania is convincing themselves, “Hey, maybe this is the year.”
Stop. Take a breath.
This game was fun, it was wild, it was chaotic… but it also tells you exactly why Detroit is up 3–1 and why Pittsburgh is still Pittsburgh.
First of all — Juan Rivera.
This kid looked like he was playing Wiffle Ball in the backyard.
Three hits, four runs, a homer, gets on base four times… he was the adult in the room.
But remember — every postseason has “that guy” on the trailing team who pops for one game. One. Game. The NBA gives you a Mike Miller Game. The NFL gives you a random Giants receiver catching three touchdowns. And baseball? Baseball gives you Juan Rivera in Game 4.
He was spectacular, but let’s be honest — this was the Pirates doing what the Pirates do: relying on chaos, vibes, and a prayer.
Meanwhile, Detroit… you can’t blow a game like this.
You score 12 runs on 18 hits?
You get Pedroza going 4-for-5?
You get Carbigos reaching base four times?
You get three different guys going deep?
That’s supposed to be a business trip.
Get in, win 12–7, get out.
But instead?
Three errors. Sloppy base running. Gave the Pirates free outs, free bases, free momentum. Detroit played like the team that was down 3–0, not up 3–0.
This is why Detroit has never been a glamour franchise in your universe. They've won games, they’ve had talent, they’ve had moments, but they have these head-scratching, airline-lost-your-luggage performances.
You can’t punt away October baseball like that.
And then there’s Darrell Verni — the walk-off.
Look, props to him. Big moment. Great swing.
But walk-offs are emotional currency, not financial.
The Pirates are still down 3–1.
They punched the bully in the mouth… but the bully is still standing.
If anything, this game told me more about Detroit than Pittsburgh:
Detroit’s offense is absurdly deep.
Detroit can score whenever it wants.
Detroit’s bullpen is… well… not built for high-stress assignments.
Detroit feels like one of those “we’re better than you, but we’d love to make this harder than it needs to be” teams.
Pittsburgh?
They’re living off hope and loud innings.
Fun, emotional, cinematic… but rarely sustainable.
Final Thought
Detroit is still winning this series.
Probably tomorrow.
Maybe the next day if they want to turn it into a movie.
But the Pirates?
They’re not climbing the mountain.
They just found a nice little scenic overlook halfway up.

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Detroit Tigers: 1928 World Series Champions (2nd title)
1906 1928

COLIN COWHERD ON TIGERS–PIRATES, GAME 5 (DETROIT WINS THE WORLD SERIES)
“Well well well…
This is why I always say: there’s a difference between getting to the big party and knowing how to act once you’re there.
Look — Pittsburgh’s story is great. It’s cute. First pennant in franchise history, you’ve got the emerging superstar Isidro Pruneda, you’ve got Juan Rivera having the October of his life, you’ve got Mike Croke hitting baseballs into Lake Erie. It’s a fun team. It’s a young team. It’s a talented team.
But Detroit? Detroit’s a grown-up baseball team.
Detroit walked into PNC Park today like the veteran wedding guest who’s been to fifteen of these and knows exactly where the buffet line is. The Tigers didn’t crumble under pressure, didn’t fall for the noise, didn’t panic after yesterday’s wild loss. They just said:
‘Alright boys — let’s handle our business.’
And then they dropped 20 runs on the Pirates like it was a Sunday beer-league doubleheader.
This wasn’t a baseball game — it was a thesis paper on the difference between experience and excitement.
Detroit: the adults in the room
You know what Detroit did? They said, ‘We’re done messing around.’
Ten walks. Nineteen hits. Seven different guys with an RBI. Troy Fleming hits two home runs like he’s taking BP. Galindo? Four hits, casual. Santos? Four hits, five RBIs. Duran? Four hits. Lawson? Two homers.
It’s clinical. It’s intentional.
That’s not luck — that’s infrastructure. That’s culture.
Detroit has been here before. They won in 1906. They’ve had heartbreaks. They’ve had resets. But this roster? It’s built for October, not just August standings graphics.
Pittsburgh: the talent is real, but the moment was too big
Okay — let’s be honest.
What Pittsburgh did this postseason is incredible. But this game? It looked like a team that woke up, checked in the mirror, and for the first time realized,
“Whoa… we’re really in the World Series.”
The pitching totally unraveled. The bullpen was a turnstile. Loder gets rocked. Díaz gets rocked. Soto gets rocked. Castro gets rocked. It didn’t matter who they used — Detroit hit everything.
And here’s the thing: this happens.
When you’re new to the big stage, pressure isn’t a thing — it’s an ecosystem. You’re breathing it, you’re drowning in it.
This wasn’t about Pittsburgh being bad — this was about Detroit being ready.
The narrative
Detroit didn’t just win the World Series — they walked into someone else’s ballpark, in front of 48,000 waving towels, and said:
“Thanks for hosting. We’ll take the trophy now.”
That is big-brand behavior.
Pittsburgh will be back — Pruneda is too good, Rivera is too hot, Croke is turning into a star. But today?
This was Detroit saying, ‘Go ahead. Admire the story. We’ll take the rings.’
Final Take
Dynasties don’t start with talent.
Dynasties start with identity.
And the identity of the 1928 Detroit Tigers is simple:
Professional
Mature
Deep
Ruthless
And built for the 9th inning, the 9th game, and the 9th month
Congrats Detroit — you earned it.
Pittsburgh — you’ll grow from this. The league is better with you relevant.
But today?
This was a reminder that October doesn’t care about fairy tales.
It cares about grown-ups.

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COLIN COWHERD ON THE 1928 AL PLATINUM STICK AWARDS
“Alright… let’s just get this out of the way:
The American League in 1928 didn’t play baseball — it played fireworks.
These numbers aren’t stats. These are crypto charts. These are lottery numbers.
This is the most absurd offensive environment I’ve ever seen.
The commissioner said ‘season of offensive excellence.’
No. No.
This was NASA with batting gloves.
This was exit velocities that should require government clearance.
Let’s go through the winners, because every single one of these guys put up numbers that would get you banned from MLB The Show for cheating.”
CATCHER – Mauro Polidori, Blue Jays
“.404 average, 73 homers, 216 RBIs… from a catcher.
This is not Johnny Bench.
This is not Pudge Rodriguez.
This is a Bond villain with shin guards.”
FIRST BASE – Josh Curtis, Astros
“.480.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
145 homers.
343 RBIs.
Folks — that’s not a baseball season. That’s a Big 12 offensive coordinator.
Josh Curtis is basically ‘points per game.’”
SECOND BASE – Scott Starrett, Blue Jays
“Look, second basemen used to be these scrappy, 5’9”, hit-and-run guys.
Starrett hit 76 homers, 259 RBIs, and scored 243 runs.
That is three positions worth of offense, wrapped into one guy with a middle-in fastball allergy.”
THIRD BASE – Alejandro Rivera, Yankees
“100 homers, 295 runs scored, almost 270 RBIs.
You know how hard it is to hit 100 in Yankee Stadium with that short porch?
This guy hit 100 like he was ordering appetizers — just casually.”
SHORTSTOP – Victor Yáñez, Mariners
“Shortstops used to be the quarterback of the defense.
Yáñez is the quarterback of the Olympic shot put team.
133 homers. Nearly 300 RBIs.
Seattle didn’t win games — they bludgeoned franchises.”
LEFT FIELD – Kenny Van Cleve, Astros
“112 homers, 280 RBIs…
I’m sorry, are the Astros hitting in a ballpark or a pinball machine?
This is Houston’s identity now:
‘Launch the baseball into orbit. Repeat.’”
CENTER FIELD – Gilberto Cisneros, Tigers
“You want balance?
Tigers had the best center fielder in the AL, and he’s basically a Marvel character.
109 homers, 296 RBIs, didn’t even look sweaty.
This is what a World Series team looks like.”
RIGHT FIELD – Reynaldo Mendez, Indians
“Cleveland quietly produces a guy who hits 95 homers and steals 25 bases.
That’s not a season — that’s an entire franchise rebuild in one stat line.”
DESIGNATED HITTER – Ethan Williams, Red Sox
“Ethan Williams hit .472 with 123 home runs and 306 RBIs.
Boston missed the playoffs with that guy.
If I’m a Red Sox fan, I’m tearing down Fenway myself.
This man put up numbers that deserve a parade, and the team went 83–79.”
FINAL TAKE
“This is the new American League.
These aren’t hitters — these are commodities.
This is the most explosive offensive collection the sport has ever seen.
You’re not winning divisions anymore with pitching.
You’re not winning with defense.
You’re not winning with prospects.
You’re winning with artillery.
You’re winning with launch angle astrophysics.
And the Platinum Stick winners?
These are the guys redefining the sport — one 500-foot missile at a time.”

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MIKE FRANCESA ON THE 1928 NL PLATINUM STICK AWARDS
“Alright, let me just say this right off the top…
These numbers?
They’re preposterous.
They’re not realistic.
They’re not normal.
I’ve been watchin’ baseball my whole life — I’ve never, EVER seen anything like this.
The National League Platinum Stick winners were announced, and folks…
I don’t know what league this is anymore.
This isn’t the National League I grew up with.
This is not pitching-and-defense.
This is not small ball.
This is not Whitey Herzog.
This is a videogame with the difficulty turned OFF.”
CATCHER – Victor Barros, Pirates
“.412 average, 77 home runs…
A catcher hitting 77 home runs.
Don’t call me and try to justify that.
Don’t tell me ‘Mike, the game’s changed.’
STOP.
A catcher hitting 77 is RIDICULOUS.”
FIRST BASE – Cory Brierton, Dodgers
“.460 with 135 home runs.
You hear what I’m sayin’?
One hundred and thirty-five!
I had Dodger fans callin’ me in April sayin’ ‘Mike, I think he’s gonna have a big year.’
Yeah? A big year? This guy had a Paul Bunyan year.”
SECOND BASE – Jason Gonzalez, Diamondbacks
“Jason Gonzalez… look, this might be the craziest one of all.
Second baseman — SECOND BASE — hits .462 with 117 homers and almost 300 RBIs.
You can’t wrap your head around that!
You can’t!
I don’t want to hear, ‘Mike, Arizona’s a hitter’s park.’
If it was played on the MOON it wouldn’t explain this.”
THIRD BASE – Jared Qualls, Braves
“Alright, Qualls — 90 homers and 52 stolen bases.
He’s basically Bonds and Rickey Henderson at the same time.
This league has gone nuts.
Absolutely nuts.”
SHORTSTOP – Matt Croke, Pirates
“Pittsburgh’s shortstop hits .456 with 97 home runs and 52 steals.
STOP IT.
Just stop.
You’re tellin’ me Honus Wagner’s out here watchin’ this go, ‘Yeah, that seems about right’?
No chance.”
LEFT FIELD – Edgar Perdomo, Giants
“This guy Perdomo — YOU GOTTA BE KIDDIN’ ME.
.466, 127 home runs, 313 RBIs…
Three hundred thirteen RBIs!
That’s not RBI, that’s a ZIP code!”
CENTER FIELD – Mike Jankowski, Cardinals
“Jankowski… listen, 95 homers, 31 steals, fine.
Whatever.
At this point I’m numb.
I really am.
I’m numb to all of it.”
RIGHT FIELD – Troy McKnight, Braves
“Another guy with 114 homers.
And of course, he’s on Atlanta — because why wouldn’t he be?
Braves hit like they’re playin’ on a Little League field behind a Costco.”
DESIGNATED HITTER – Alex Fernandez, Braves
“Now THIS… this one is the crown jewel.
Alex Fernandez.
.526 average — HALF. A SEASON. OVER. .500.
Two hundred and twenty-eight homers.
Four hundred and forty-four RBIs.
That’s not baseball, folks.
That’s Greek mythology.
This guy is Hercules with a batting helmet.
Don’t call me and say, ‘Mike, he deserved it.’
OF COURSE he deserved it — HE BROKE THE SPORT.”
FINAL THOUGHT
“Listen…
I love baseball.
I’ve always loved baseball.
But the National League in 1928?
It’s not baseball — it’s a freak show.
The pitchers need a union.
They need representation.
They need emotional support.
Because these hitters?
These hitters are ENDING careers.”

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CHRIS “MAD DOG” RUSSO ON THE 1928 AL ROOKIE OF THE YEAR
“ALRIGHT, LISTEN, LISTEN, LISTEN!!
This kid — DAVID BASS — I mean, FOLKS, WHAT ARE WE DOIN’ HERE?!
What planet is this baseball being played on?!
HE HIT .443 AS A ROOKIE!!
A ROOKIE!!
Two hundred ninety hits!!
A hundred twenty-two home runs!!
Two hundred eighty-seven RBIs!!
TWO HUNDRED FORTY-FIVE RUNS SCORED!!
HE SCORED MORE RUNS THAN SOME TEAMS!!
THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!!”
THE VOTING
“Of COURSE he was unanimous!!
Thirty outta thirty!
If ANYBODY — and I mean ANYBODY — didn’t vote for this kid, THEY SHOULD’VE HAD THEIR BALLOT TAKEN AWAY, put ‘em in a room, and made ‘em watch 12 hours of BAD BASEBALL until they LEARN THEIR LESSON!!
Francis Tavarez — solid player, nice year.
Marc Smith — good young hitter.
BUT COME ON!!
Come ON!!
They’re not in the same UNIVERSE as this kid Bass!!
Not the same GALAXY!!
Not even the same ZIP CODE!!
WE ARE TALKING ABOUT A ROOKIE WHO HIT 122 HOME RUNS!!
BABE RUTH NEVER DID THAT!!
MICKEY MANTLE NEVER DID THAT!!
NO ONE DID THAT!!
IT’S CRAZY!!”
FINAL RESULTS
“Bass — Royals — 30 first place votes — slam dunk — WALK-OFF — OVER!!
Tavarez — Rangers — 82 points, fine, whatever!
Marc Smith with 37 points, okay!
Erick Ramirez — Yankees — ONE POINT!!
The YANKEES couldn’t even sniff this thing!!
GOOD!
GOOD!!
Gives ‘em something to cry about!!”
MAD DOG’S SIGN-OFF
“David Bass, Rookie of the Year — and you could’ve given him HALF the MVP votes TOO!!
This kid is a PHENOM!
A SENSATION!
A LUNATIC AT THE PLATE!!
One of the greatest rookie seasons EVER — I mean EVER — in the history of mankind!!
MAD DOG OUT!!”

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BOB COSTAS ON THE 1928 NL ROOKIE OF THE YEAR AWARD
“For several weeks now, as summer turned to fall and the long baseball season moved toward its final act, the whispers around the National League became something more like a certainty. The Rookie of the Year Award, they said, was headed to St. Louis. And today, that expectation became official.
Mike Jankowski, the precocious center fielder for the Cardinals, has been named the 1928 National League Rookie of the Year — and not by a narrow margin.
He was the unanimous choice, earning all 30 first-place votes.”
A SEASON OF HISTORIC EXCELLENCE
“In a league rich with first-year standouts through the decades — from Frank Robinson to Fernando Valenzuela, from Rafael Furcal to Albert Pujols — Jankowski’s season stands comfortably among the most explosive debuts baseball has ever seen.
He hit .418, a number that seems plucked from an earlier age of the sport.
He amassed 276 hits, 95 home runs, and 275 runs batted in — staggering totals that would be eye-catching for any superstar, let alone a rookie finding his footing on the major-league stage.
He crossed the plate 227 times, walked 52, and posted a sharp .457 on-base percentage, all while anchoring the center of the diamond for a Cardinals club that leaned heavily on his unique combination of power, speed, and consistency.”
THE FINAL BALLOT
“As is often the case in such seasons, the suspense was minimal. Jankowski claimed all 150 available voting points.
Jonathan Andersen of the New York Mets — a gifted young infielder in his own right — finished a distant second.
Sergio Quintero of the Miami Marlins was third, and his teammate, Dong-kyu Kawasaki, rounded out the ballot.”
THE LARGER STORY
“What Jankowski gave St. Louis this year is more than production. It is promise — the sense that a new star has arrived, and that the Cardinals, an organization steeped in tradition, may have found the next in a long line of players who define an era.
Awards are often about numbers, but sometimes, as in this case, they are also about moments:
a leaping catch at the wall, the easy stride rounding second, the unmistakable sound of a baseball struck with uncommon force. All the signals that the next great player may have just introduced himself.
And now, officially, he has.”

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AL Awards

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NL Awards

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MIKE FRANCESA ON THE 1929 A.L. STANDINGS
(WFAN — “The Sports Popcorn Machine with Mike”)
“Alright, lemme, lemme start with this, because I been hearin’ from Yankee fans all mornin’. ‘Mike, the sky is fallin’, Boston’s in first place, what are we gonna do?’ Calm down. Take a breath. It’s July 1st. You’re one game over Boston in the loss column. One. If you lose sleep over that, that’s on you, not on me.
The Yankees at 46–33? That’s a good team. That’s a team that’s been through some heartbreak in this universe, we all know it, but that’s a playoff team, alright? Rivera’s hittin’, the lineup’s doin’ what it needs to do. The only reason people are panicking is because Boston — a team nobody talked about in March — is sittin’ there at 45–32. I'm tellin’ ya: they’re playin’ over their heads a little. Nice story, nice first half, but I don’t buy it for six months. Sorry. Not happenin’.
And Toronto — can we stop actin’ like this team was gonna win the division? 38–39, exactly what I told you. They mash, they got power up and down the lineup, but they don’t pitch. You don’t win divisions in this league without pitchin’. Tampa? Baltimore? Forget it. They're done. They’re just playin’ out the string already.
NOW THE CENTRAL — LEMME TELL YA ABOUT THE TIGERS
Detroit is the class of the American League, period. I picked ’em, I told ya, I said, “Watch out, don’t let last year fool you — that offense travels.” And what do they do? 47–29, on pace for 100 wins again. Pedraza’s an MVP every other day. They score runs like other teams breathe.
Cleveland? Nice little team. They’re not bad. 42–37? Good for them. They’re not catchin’ Detroit.
Chicago, Kansas City, Minnesota? Toast. And by the way, this Kansas City team — I know you all love David Bass, the kid’s a phenom, tremendous rookie year last year — but you can’t win with one guy. You need a rotation. You need bullpen. You need depth. They got none of it.
AND THEN… YA GOT THE WEST. HO-HO-HO, THE WEST.
I’ve been sayin’ since 1907 in this universe — Seattle, Texas, whoever — none of ’em matter when Houston decides they wanna be great.
The Astros at 56–23? That is absurd. That is a joke. That is a Harlem Globetrotters record. They are 11 games up on TWO teams that are 45–34. You realize how insane that is?
Josh Curtis, Kenny Van Cleve… they’re a machine. They hit like the Tigers, but they pitch better. This is not just the best team in the league — this might be the best team in this entire timeline.
Texas and Seattle are both very good. In any other division, they’re first place teams. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter one bit. In this division you’re playin’ for the wild card the minute the schedule comes out.
Oakland? Eh. Non-factor.
Anaheim? 19–59. I don’t even have a joke. I mean, you gotta try to get to 19–59. You gotta plan it. That doesn’t happen by accident.
MIKE’S FINAL TAKE
Detroit and Houston are on a collision course. That’s the story of the league.
New York and Boston? Fun sideshow.
Seattle and Texas? Great teams trapped in the wrong zip code.
Everybody else? Lookin’ up.
And I’ll say it again for the Yankee fans who think the world is endin’:
You’re fine. You might not win the division, but you’ll be playin’ in October.
Now stop callin’ the show with the nonsense.