National Baseball League

[jg2977]

BOB COSTAS:
By the time the sun dipped behind the grandstand at Angel Stadium, this World Series had begun to feel less like a contest and more like a coronation in progress. The Anaheim Angels, returning home with a two-games-to-none advantage, delivered their most emphatic statement yet — a 16–6 dismantling of the San Francisco Giants in Game 3.
Anaheim now leads this World Series three games to none, and the margin was not merely on the scoreboard, but in tone, confidence, and execution.
JOE MORGAN:
Bob, this was an offensive avalanche. From the first inning on, Anaheim made it clear they weren’t interested in letting the Giants hang around. They attacked early, they attacked late, and they didn’t give San Francisco a moment to breathe.
You look up and down this lineup — Ricky Roman, Asllan Marku, Benito Aguilar — it just keeps coming. That’s how teams put series away.
COSTAS:
The Giants briefly teased a comeback in the fourth inning, scoring four runs and momentarily taking the lead. For a fleeting moment, there was the sense that perhaps momentum might finally swing.
It did not.
Anaheim answered with three in the fourth, three more in the fifth, and then delivered the decisive blow — five runs in the sixth inning, turning a competitive game into an exhibition of dominance.
MORGAN:
And the big difference, Bob, was situational hitting. Anaheim didn’t waste opportunities. Two-out hits, runners in scoring position — they cashed in again and again.
Ricky Roman was the tone-setter. Four hits, power to the gaps, speed on the bases — that’s a complete ballgame from your third baseman. And Marku’s two-run single in the fourth? That was the swing that really broke the Giants’ back.
COSTAS:
On the mound, Dale Marques was not overpowering, but he was composed. He weathered traffic, limited damage, and allowed his offense to do what it has done all series — overwhelm the opposition.
From there, Marco Saporito closed the door, preserving a bullpen that has quietly become another advantage for Anaheim.
MORGAN:
Meanwhile, San Francisco’s pitchers simply couldn’t stop the bleeding. Extra-base hits from every corner of the lineup, pressure on the defense, and mistakes that Anaheim punished immediately.
And Bob, when you’re giving up sixteen runs in a World Series game, that tells you everything about where a team is mentally.
COSTAS:
So now, the Giants face a stark reality. They must win four straight games against a club firing on every cylinder — a task that has defeated far better teams under far kinder circumstances.
Anaheim, on the other hand, stands one win away from a sweep, one win away from history.
Game 4 awaits, and with it, the possibility that this World Series may soon be remembered not for its suspense — but for its inevitability.

[jg2977]

BOB COSTAS:
If Game 3 suggested inevitability, Game 4 reintroduced uncertainty — and did so with thunder. On a cool Saturday afternoon at Angel Stadium, the San Francisco Giants finally broke through, outlasting the Anaheim Angels 15–12 in a breathless, back-and-forth affair that stretched pitching staffs, nerves, and the limits of plausibility.
The Angels still lead the World Series three games to one, but for the first time, the Giants leave the field with proof that this matchup is not yet finished.
JOE MORGAN:
Bob, this was one of those games where pitchers just had to survive. Both lineups came in swinging, and from the second inning on it was like a heavyweight fight — punch, counterpunch, no one backing down.
San Francisco needed a response after being dominated in Games 2 and 3, and they got it by being aggressive early and relentless late.
COSTAS:
The tone was set almost immediately in the second inning. With no one out, Cesar Vazquez turned on a fastball from Mario Monzon and sent it into the seats for a two-run homer — a moment that felt less like a run scored and more like a declaration.
That swing ignited a five-run inning and, in many ways, the Giants’ entire afternoon.
MORGAN:
That’s what Vazquez does so well. He doesn’t try to do too much — he waits for something he can drive. And once San Francisco got that early confidence, everyone followed.
You look at this Giants lineup — Perdomo, Valenzuela, Hernandez, Barela — they were attacking mistakes. Anaheim pitchers fell behind, and San Francisco made them pay with power.
COSTAS:
Indeed, the Giants finished with seven home runs, turning Angel Stadium into an unexpected launching pad. Bill Valenzuela, already a central figure in this series, homered again. Edgar Perdomo, Manuel Hernandez, Joey Fields, Guillermo Barela — all left their mark.
Yet Anaheim refused to yield.
MORGAN:
That’s what impressed me, Bob. Anaheim kept answering. Juan Garcia hit two home runs. Bobby Marquis matched him with two of his own. Alex Fernandez added another pair. Every time San Francisco tried to create separation, the Angels pulled them right back in.
This could’ve easily flipped the other way if one pitch goes differently.
COSTAS:
But on this day, San Francisco had just enough. James Parker, while far from dominant, endured long enough to earn the win, and the Giants’ bullpen bent without fully breaking as Anaheim’s final rally came up short.
When the final out settled into a glove, it marked the Giants’ first victory of this World Series — and perhaps more importantly, their first moment of belief.
MORGAN:
Now the pressure shifts a little, Bob. Anaheim still holds control, no doubt — but San Francisco has shown they can match them swing for swing. If the Giants can carry this momentum into Game 5, suddenly this series starts to feel very different.
COSTAS:
For now, the Angels remain one win from a championship. But October has a way of reminding us that certainty is fragile — and after Game 4, this World Series has found new life.

[jg2977]

Anaheim Angels: 1934 World Series Champions
1st title

BOB COSTAS:
On a clear October afternoon in Anaheim, baseball gave us one of its great paradoxes: a game defined not by the long ball, but by the geometry of the gaps. The Anaheim Angels, a 93-win club that few outside Southern California truly believed in, have done the unthinkable. They are champions for the first time in franchise history, stunning the heavily favored San Francisco Giants, 109 wins strong in the regular season, by a final of 20–13, and taking the World Series four games to one.
This was not merely an upset. It was a dismantling — accomplished with precision, patience, and an avalanche of extra-base hits that turned Angel Stadium into a pinball machine.

JOE MORGAN:
Bob, this was old-school offense at its purest. No home runs, no waiting around. Just line drives, gap shots, and runners flying around the bases. Anaheim scored 20 runs without hitting a single home run, and that tells you everything about how relentlessly they pressured the Giants’ pitching and defense.
When you hit like this, you don’t give the other team a chance to breathe.

COSTAS:
The numbers are staggering. Anaheim pounded out 21 hits, and nearly half of them went for extra bases. Alex Fernandez delivered three doubles. Bobby Marquis, in a performance that will live in Angels lore, recorded four doubles, tying a league playoff record and earning Player of the Game honors. Josiah Kirkland added two more doubles, while Asllan Marku, Billy Horn, and Juan Garcia each chipped in one.
And Garcia — remarkable even by postseason standards — added two triples, tying a franchise playoff record, while Horn supplied another triple of his own. Anaheim didn’t just move runners along; they relocated them.

MORGAN:
That’s exhausting for a defense, Bob. Especially a Giants team that made four errors on the day. Every ball in the gap becomes a decision, every relay has to be perfect — and San Francisco simply couldn’t keep up.
Anaheim forced mistakes, and once that happened, the floodgates opened.

COSTAS:
The game itself unfolded like controlled chaos. San Francisco kept answering — five runs in the eighth inning gave the illusion of a rally — but Anaheim always responded, culminating in a stunning nine-run eighth, the decisive blow that finally broke the Giants’ resistance.
In that inning alone, Marquis doubled again, Horn tripled with the bases loaded, and Angel Stadium transformed from hopeful to euphoric in a matter of minutes.

MORGAN:
That eighth inning was the series in microcosm. Anaheim didn’t flinch. They didn’t change who they were. They just kept attacking pitches in the zone and taking what the defense gave them.
That’s championship baseball.

COSTAS:
When the final out was recorded, the contrast was stark. Jubilant Angels pouring out of the dugout, a fan base long starved for this moment celebrating deep into the Southern California night. Across the field, a Giants club that looked invincible for six months stood stunned — undone not by power, but by precision.
Anaheim finishes the season as champions, second place in the American League West no longer a footnote, but a reminder that October belongs not to reputation, but to execution.

MORGAN:
They earned it, Bob. Every inch of it. This Angels team didn’t wait for history — they made it.

COSTAS:
For the Anaheim Angels, 1934 will forever be remembered as the year belief met opportunity — and the gaps told the story.

[jg2977]

.

[jg2977]

..

[jg2977]

Alright, let’s talk about belief — or more accurately, the complete lack of it.
Because the Anaheim Angels? Nobody believed in them. Not once. Not at any point. Not even a little.
They finished ten games behind the Houston Astros in the American League West. Ten. That’s not a typo. That’s the kind of gap that tells the public, “Nice season, cute story, see you next year.” Nobody looked at that team and said, “Yeah, that’s a World Series champ.”
Then the playoffs start.
Wild Card Series. Game 1 — loss to Toronto. And everyone does what everyone always does: Here we go. Fraud alert. Nobody believed in them. Then what happens? They win the next two. Toronto’s gone. Season over for the Jays.
Still nobody believes.
Now comes the Division Series. Oh, just the 117-win Cleveland Indians. A juggernaut. A machine. The Angels lose the first two games. Down 0–2. And now the conversation is, “This is over. This is a mismatch.”
Nobody believed.
And then — bang. Three straight wins. Cleveland? Packed. Sent home. Season done.
Still… nobody believes.
Next stop: ALCS. The 105-win Boston Red Sox. Angels lose the first two again. And now people aren’t even pretending. “Nice run. Good effort. But this is where it ends.”
Nobody believed.
Then Anaheim wins four straight. Not four squeakers. Four statements. Boston didn’t lose — they were removed.
And somehow, still… people aren’t fully buying in.
Now the World Series. Waiting for them? The 109-win San Francisco Giants, the National League’s number one seed, the safest pick in the room. Analysts are confident. Fans are confident. History is confident.
Nobody believed in Anaheim.
Then the Angels win Game 1. Okay, maybe a fluke.
They win Game 2. Huh… interesting.
They win Game 3. And now — now — people start shifting in their seats.
“Wait a second…”
And here we are.
The Anaheim Angels are champions of baseball.
This is why we love sports. Not because of payrolls. Not because of projections. Not because of win totals from six months ago. This team didn’t dominate the regular season. They dominated moments. They didn’t win on reputation. They won on resilience.
They were doubted every round. Down every series. Counted out every time.
And they just kept winning.
That’s not luck. That’s not magic. That’s a team that refused to listen — and forced the rest of baseball to finally believe.

[jg2977]

;

[jg2977]

Alright, let me tell you a story — and it’s a bizarre one. One of those stories where you read the headline, you blink twice, and you say, “Wait… what?”
The Tampa Bay Rays have fired general manager Jim Carpenter.
And look — on the surface, the explanation sounds familiar. Lost games. Draft picks that didn’t pan out. Free agents that didn’t move the needle. You’ve heard this song before. Carpenter himself even sounded like a guy who knew the ending was coming.
“I will cherish my time in Tampa Bay… the relationship was not working.”
Okay. Fine. But now — now — let’s actually look at this closely. Because this is where it stops making sense.
Carpenter starts as Director of Scouting of the Cleveland Indians in 1926. First year on the job?
103–59. Division title. World Series appearance.
That’s not easing into the job — that’s hitting the ground sprinting.
Then comes 1927: 81–81.
1928: 85–77.
You know what that is? That’s called baseball. Not every year is a parade.
Then 1929? 94–68. Division champs.
1930? 98–64. Division champs again.
And they get to Game 7 of the World Series — one strike away from winning it all — before an all-time ninth-inning collapse.
Heartbreaking? Absolutely. But that’s not incompetence. That’s baseball cruelty.
1931: 89–73. Playoffs again.
And then… Cleveland fires him.
Already questionable.
So Tampa Bay hires him as GM. And now here’s where it gets really wild.
1932: 105–57. Division title.
1933: 105–57. World Series champions.
Let me repeat that: World. Series. Champions.
1934: 88–74. Playoffs.
And that’s where Tampa Bay says, “You know what? Not good enough.”
Wait — what?!
A year after winning a World Series, a year after being the best team in baseball, you make the playoffs again — and that’s grounds for dismissal?
I’m sorry. That’s not analysis. That’s impatience bordering on organizational amnesia.
You want to fire Jim Carpenter? Fine. That’s your right. But don’t pretend this is about performance. This guy wins everywhere he goes. Divisions. Pennants. Championships. The résumé speaks louder than the press release.
And I’ll tell you something else — whichever team hires Jim Carpenter next?
They’re not just getting a general manager.
They’re getting a track record.
They’re getting credibility.
They’re getting someone who knows how to build a winner — not just once, but over and over again.
This isn’t a warning sign about Carpenter.
This is a warning sign about Tampa Bay.

[jg2977]

The ballots are counted and the results are in. This year we will witness five players added to the Hall of Fame. Angelo Liotta, Joe Stacks, Sepp Miller, Tony Plascencia, and Nate Moser received the ultimate honor this year in being voted as the newest members of the Hall of Fame.

The full voting results are included here. Players require 75% of ballots cast to be elected to the Hall, may stay on the ballot for up to 10 years if they receive at least 5% of the votes. Players must be retired for 5 years before they are eligible for induction to the Hall of Fame.

1B Angelo Liotta 99.4 (1st year) Inducted HOF
2B Joe Stacks 97.5 (1st year) Inducted HOF
C Sepp Miller 94.7 (1st year) Inducted HOF
CL Tony Plascencia 93.8 (1st year) Inducted HOF
1B Nate Moser 83.6 (1st year) Inducted HOF
CF Michael Petesch 69.7 (2nd year)
2B Ruben Soto 67.5 (1st year)
LF Pedro Alicea 48.9 (4th year)
1B Jose Contreras 41.2 (1st year)
CL Simeão Schoeppen 34.1 (1st year)
CL Rey Gonzalez 33.1 (6th year)
CF Sergio Herrera 29.1 (3rd year)
SP Antonio Mendoza 26.6 (1st year)
SP Ryan Grater 24.1 (2nd year)
SP Kevin Johnson 23.2 (4th year)
CF Tom Buchanan 21.7 (10th year) Dropped
CL Alex Jeoffrey 17.0 (2nd year)
CL Zach Gonser 13.6 (8th year)
SP Julio Morales 10.2 (10th year) Dropped
SP Gary Hall 9.0 (2nd year)
LF Ivan Ramos 8.7 (2nd year)
SP Antonio Hernandez 6.8 (1st year)
CL Hector Rodriguez 4.6 (5th year) Dropped
SS David Rosa 2.8 (1st year) Dropped
2B Jeff Gaddis 2.5 (4th year) Dropped
3B Manuel Felix 1.9 (5th year) Dropped
LF Leo Dominguez 1.2 (10th year) Dropped
SS Tony Kelley 0.9 (1st year) Dropped
SP Luis Ortiz 0.3 (1st year) Dropped

[jg2977]

Mike Francesa:
Alright, so lemme set this up for you, because this is not some random September game, okay? This is not, “hey, nice win, let’s pack up and go home.” The Yankees hadn’t sniffed the postseason in six years. Six. And they’re deadlocked with Texas at 82–80, season on the line, hostile building, everything right there. And what do they do? They don’t squeak it out. They don’t survive. They don’t bunt their way in. They go into Arlington and they blow the place up.
Twenty-eight runs. Twenty-nine hits. This wasn’t a game, this was a statement.
Mad Dog Russo:
MIKE! Mike! This was insane! I mean, this was like a batting practice session that got outta hand! I’m watchin’ this game sayin’, “When’s the mercy rule?!” They’re hittin’ doubles, triples, balls in the gap, line drives everywhere! The Rangers are lookin’ around like, “Can somebody stop this?” And nobody can!
Mike:
And you wanna talk about one guy? Corbett Mortensen. Six for seven. SIX. FOR. SEVEN. Nine RBIs. He hits a three-run homer in the first, and from that point on, the Rangers are just trying to survive the night. This wasn’t aggressive, this wasn’t reckless — this was disciplined, professional hitting. Harrison even said it after the game: he waited for his pitch. That’s real baseball.
Mad Dog:
And Mike, let’s not gloss over this — this wasn’t just Mortensen! Look at this lineup! Setton! Shipps! Battles! Everybody’s hittin’ rockets! You score eight runs in the sixth inning of a playoff-clincher game?! Eight?! That’s humiliation! That’s “we’re takin’ your soul and your locker room.”
Mike:
So now the Yankees finally get back in. They finish 83–80, they break the drought, and here’s the irony — the reward for all this? They get Cleveland.
Mad Dog:
Ohhhh no. No no no no no. Not them.
Mike:
Exactly. The Indians. The ghosts of the 1920s. The team that knocked them out again and again. And this isn’t some average Cleveland club — this is a 104-win team that won the Central by twenty-seven games. Twenty-seven! They were playing a different season than everybody else.
Mad Dog:
Mike, this is the worst possible draw! You finally get in, the fans are celebratin’, they’re poppin’ champagne — and now you gotta go face a buzzsaw! Cleveland doesn’t care about your story! Cleveland’s sittin’ there sayin’, “We’ve been waitin’ for you.”
Mike:
And that’s the question now. Was this game the start of something? Or was it the last big punch before reality hits? Because Cleveland doesn’t make mistakes like Texas did. They don’t hand you five errors and a pitching carousel. They grind you down.
Mad Dog:
But Mike — confidence matters! You score twenty-eight runs with your season on the line? You walk into that Cleveland series thinkin’, “Why not us?” That’s dangerous! That’s how weird stuff starts in October!
Mike:
That’s why this game matters. Not because of the box score — because of what it unlocks. The Yankees are back in the playoffs. The question now is whether history repeats itself… or finally gets rewritten.

[jg2977]

1935 AL Standings

Mike Francesa:
Alright, let’s go through the American League here, because this season actually tells you a lot about where the league is right now — and where it’s going.
Start at the top. Tampa Bay. You wanna talk about a response? This is how you respond. They win the World Series two years ago, slip back to 88 wins last season, people start wonderin’ if the window’s closin’ — and all they do is come back and post 108 wins, best record in baseball. Best record. No debate. That’s not a bounce, that’s a reassertion. They’re back on top of the food chain, and they earned the bye.
Right behind them? Anaheim. And this matters. Last year wasn’t a fluke, okay? You don’t win 107 games by accident. They follow up one of the great underdog championships we’ve ever seen with a season that says, “We’re not goin’ anywhere.” They get the bye, they get rest, and now everyone’s gonna have to come through them again. That’s legitimacy.
Now, let’s get to the matchups, because this is where it gets real.
Houston at Boston. Houston’s solid, they’re dangerous, but Boston won 105 games for a reason. Fenway, pressure, expectations — that’s not an easy place to walk into. That series is about whether Houston can dictate terms or whether Boston just overwhelms them with consistency.
And then you’ve got Yankees–Cleveland, which is dripping with history. The Yankees claw their way in at 83–80, first time in six years, and what do they get? A Cleveland team that won 104 games and ran away with the Central by twenty-seven games. This is not some lucky division winner. This is a machine. If the Yankees are gonna do anything here, it’s gotta be loud, early, and fearless — because Cleveland does not blink.
Now let’s talk about the teams that aren’t here.
Toronto. This is big. Miss the playoffs for the first time since 1929. That’s not a blip, that’s a headline. After years of just assuming they’d be in the mix, suddenly they’re watchin’ October from the outside. That changes conversations up there very quickly.
And then… the bottom.
Minnesota — 58 wins.
Oakland — 51 wins.
And Detroit — 48 wins.
Detroit especially. Forty-eight wins. Remember when they won the World Series just seven years ago? Seven. This is how fast it goes in this league. You don’t manage it right, you don’t transition properly, and you fall off a cliff. There’s no grace period.
So the picture’s clear. Tampa Bay and Anaheim sit at the top with byes. Boston and Cleveland are heavyweights waiting at home. Houston and the Yankees are the challengers. And the rest? They’re already playing for 1936.
That’s the American League. Top-heavy, unforgiving, and absolutely ruthless if you get it wrong.

[jg2977]

1935 NL Standings

Chris Russo:
Alright, let’s go, let’s go, because the National League this year is bananas, okay? Absolutely bananas. You look at this thing and you say, “What happened to everything we thought we knew?” That’s the NL in 1935.
First of all — the Mets. Again. Again! Seventy-nine wins! You can’t even get to .500, you can’t even flirt with eighty, and people every March are tellin’ me, “This is the year, Dog!” No it’s not! They’re home, they’re done, and October’s on the radio for them — again.
Now, at the top, this is where it gets interesting. St. Louis and San Francisco — 101 wins each. Boom. And because of the tiebreaker, the Cardinals grab the #1 seed. That matters! That’s not cosmetic! That’s rest, that’s planning, that’s lining up your pitching. The Cardinals have been steady all year, no drama, no nonsense — and now they sit back and wait.
And the Giants? Same record, different seat. They get the bye too, but you know what? After what happened to them last October, that pressure does not go away. You don’t just erase that.
Now let’s talk about the Wild Cards, because this is where the fun is.
Cincinnati at Los Angeles. I love this! Love it! The Reds haven’t made the playoffs since 1924 — that’s ELEVEN years, people! That’s a whole generation of misery! And now they gotta go into Dodger Stadium against a 90-win team? That’s drama! That’s nerves! That’s fans who don’t know how to act because they’ve never been here before!
The other one? Miami at Washington. That’s sneaky good. Washington wins the East, Miami’s dangerous, loose, got nothin’ to lose — that’s the kind of series where the favorite gets tight real fast.
Now… we gotta talk about the shockers.
Atlanta.
Milwaukee.
Are you kiddin’ me?!
These two teams have OWNED this league for a decade! OWNED it! And now Atlanta goes 76–86, Milwaukee 70–92, and they’re BOTH home on the couch?! That’s not a slump, that’s a collapse! That’s front-office meetings goin’ till three in the morning! That’s “How did this happen?”
And the bottom of the league? Ugly, but not catastrophic.
Cubs — 68 wins.
Pirates — 66 wins.
Not as bad as what you saw in the American League, but trust me, nobody’s hangin’ banners for that either.
So what do you have? A National League where the old kings are gone, the new powers are cautious, the long-suffering Reds finally get their moment, and half the league is lookin’ around sayin’, “How did the ground shift this fast?”
That’s the NL, folks. Unstable, unpredictable — and absolutely must-watch.

[jg2977]

.

[jg2977]

..

[jg2977]

Mike Francesa:
Alright, lemme tell ya somethin’ right now — if you didn’t watch this game, you missed absolute chaos. This was not baseball the way it’s drawn up, this was baseball the way it breaks down. Miami goes into Washington, hostile park, playoff opener, and somehow — somehow — they walk out with a 12–11 win in ten innings and a 1–0 lead.
Mad Dog Russo:
MIKE! This game was NUTS! Absolutely nuts! I’m watchin’ this thing sayin’, “Who’s gonna pitch the eleventh inning, the batboy?!” Nobody could get anybody out! It’s four-nothin’, then five-one, then Washington comes back, then Miami scores, then Washington scores — I couldn’t breathe!
Mike:
This was a street fight. No starters survived. No bullpen arms looked comfortable. Every time you thought, “Alright, this side’s got control,” the other team punched right back.
And let’s start early — Miami jumps them. Four runs in the first. You’re Washington, you win the division, you’ve got the crowd, and suddenly you’re already chasing the game.
Mad Dog:
And Ricky Owens, Mike! Big hits, big spots! Three RBIs, homer, walk — he’s everywhere! But lemme tell ya somethin’, this wasn’t just stars — this was a TEAM win! Sanchez homers, Taylor homers, Holte homers — everybody’s takin’ swings like it’s a Home Run Derby with consequences!
Mike:
But Washington didn’t fold. And that’s why this hurts if you’re a Nationals fan. They keep coming. Mireles, Owens, Cammarata — boom, boom, boom — seventh inning, they put up four runs and take the lead. That place is rocking. You think, “Alright, this is over.”
Mad Dog:
AND IT’S NOT OVER! Of course it’s not! Because Miami comes right back in the ninth! Holte hits one out with two outs — TWO OUTS, MIKE! That’s gut-wrenching! That’s the kinda homer that makes the dugout go silent!
Mike:
Tie game, bullpen scrambling, everybody on fumes. Then we get to the tenth.
John Evans. Base hit. Run scores. That’s it. That’s the difference. Not a bomb, not theatrics — just a professional at-bat when everything’s shaking.
Mad Dog:
That’s playoff baseball! That’s nerves! That’s “somebody’s gotta blink” — and Washington blinked!
Mike:
And give Miami credit — Jeremy Gangler Jr. said it best: “There’s no quit in this team.” They blew a lead, lost a lead, tied it late, then shut the door. Hodge comes in, two scoreless innings — ice water.
Mad Dog:
Now Washington’s in trouble, Mike. REAL trouble. You lose Game 1 at home in a best-of-three like this? Emotionally draining, bullpen cooked, crowd stunned — that’s brutal.
Mike:
Miami’s loose. Washington’s tight. And that’s the series right now. Miami’s got the lead, the momentum, and the belief.
And in October — belief is everything.

[jg2977]

It was one of those October afternoons at Dodger Stadium where the sun sat gently on the outfield grass, the crowd arrived expecting drama, and no one — not even the most imaginative soul — could have predicted this.
The Cincinnati Reds, a franchise that had waited more than a decade just to return to the postseason stage, arrived in Los Angeles not as tourists, but as storytellers. And by the time the dust settled, they had authored a tale that will live a very long time in the canyon walls of Chavez Ravine.
The final was 20–18, Reds over Dodgers, in a game that felt less like nine innings and more like a long, winding novel with too many plot twists to count.
Early on, the Reds announced their intentions. In the first inning alone, Fernando Gonzales — the Cincinnati catcher, a man not often mistaken for a power prophet — turned on a pitch and sent it soaring into the seats. It was the first of three home runs he would hit, each one arriving like a punctuation mark in a sentence that kept growing louder.
By the end of the second inning, Cincinnati had scored thirteen runs. Thirteen. And yet, somehow, the game was still very much alive.
Because this Dodgers club, bruised but proud, refused to go quietly. In the third and fourth innings, Los Angeles surged back — Travis Johnson launching drives into the gaps, Dan Arroyo answering with thunder of his own — and suddenly a game that seemed lopsided became something far more dangerous: unpredictable.
Runs came in bunches. Pitchers came and went. Leads were borrowed, then returned, then borrowed again. Every crack of the bat carried consequence, and every cheer was followed closely by a gasp.
But the moment that finally tipped the balance came in the eighth inning.
With one out, the bases full, and the afternoon leaning precariously toward chaos, Chris Udy stepped in. He found a fastball, and he did not miss it. The ball climbed into the California sky, and by the time it landed, it was a grand slam — and perhaps the sigh of relief Cincinnati had been searching for all afternoon.
Still, there was one more chapter to write.
Fernando Gonzales, who had already given the Reds so much, added one final stroke earlier — three home runs, five runs driven in — tying a playoff record and reminding everyone that October has a way of choosing its heroes without warning.
Los Angeles kept swinging until the very last out, scoring four times in the ninth, refusing to let the game drift quietly into the books. But at last, it ended — breathless, sprawling, unforgettable.
The Reds walked off the field with a 1–0 series lead, one win away from advancing to the Division Series. And the Dodgers, stunned but unbowed, were left to wonder how a day that began so ordinarily could end as something so extraordinary.
That, after all, is October baseball.
It doesn’t ask permission.
It simply tells its story.

[jg2977]

.

[jg2977]

On a cool October afternoon at Fenway Park, with the wind pressing in from right field and a full house leaning forward in anticipation, the Boston Red Sox opened the 1935 postseason by doing something invaluable in a short series: they set the tone early, and never let it drift back.
This was Wild Card Game 1, and it began with a reminder that Houston — though four years removed from its 1931 championship — still carries the muscle memory of October. Two pitches into the game, Mark Noble sent a ball over the wall. Two batters later, Xavier Garcia followed suit. In the span of minutes, the Astros had a 2–0 lead and Fenway was forced into an uneasy murmur.
But the response was immediate — and emphatic.
Matt Croke led off the bottom of the first with a home run of his own. Justin Madigan added another before the inning was complete. By the time the second inning ended, Boston had hung seven runs on the board, forcing Houston starter Jonathan Collings out after just four outs and turning the early portion of this game into a test of endurance for the Astros’ pitching staff.
Yet the afternoon never settled into a simple blowout.
Houston kept pressing. Noble continued his brilliant day at the plate. Dusty Berthiaume, still one of the most feared bats in the league, reached base repeatedly. In the fourth and again in the sixth, the Astros chipped away, threatening to turn Fenway’s early exuberance into late-inning anxiety.
What followed was the defining sequence of the game — and perhaps of the series’ opening chapter.
In the bottom of the sixth inning, with the bases loaded and the margin still narrow, Brian Petro stepped in. Petro had already doubled twice. This time, he cleared the bases with another ringing double into the gap, a swing that did more than add three runs — it changed the emotional temperature of the ballpark. Houston would not seriously threaten again.
Petro finished the day 3-for-6 with three doubles and six runs driven in, tying a Boston postseason record and earning Player of the Game honors. Around him, the Red Sox offense became relentless. Ethan Williams matched Petro with three doubles of his own. Madigan added two more extra-base hits. Boston piled up 19 hits, scoring in five different innings and applying constant pressure until the final out.
On the mound, Victor Juarez gave Boston exactly what it needed — not brilliance, but stability. Seven innings, five runs, and a steady hand that allowed the Red Sox offense to play from in front.
By the end, the scoreboard read 16–8, but the number concealed the larger message of the afternoon.
Houston came in as a club with recent championship memory, still searching for the next one. Boston came in as a team intent on making this October belong to them — at least for now.
In a best-of-three series, Game 1 doesn’t decide everything.
But it can tell you who has found the rhythm first.
And on this afternoon at Fenway Park, the Red Sox found it immediately.

[jg2977]

..

[jg2977]

John Sterling:
Welllllllll… hello everybody. This is John Sterling, and tonight—well, Suzyn, the Yankees returned to the postseason for the first time in six years… and Cleveland greeted them like an old friend they didn’t miss.
Suzyn Waldman:
No, John, this one got away almost immediately. The Yankees showed some power, but they just could not stop Cleveland’s offense, and the mistakes piled up fast.
Sterling:
Fast is right, Suzyn. The Indians put up nineteen runs, twenty hits, and the Yankees committed four errors. That’s not a recipe—that’s a warning label.
Suzyn:
And it really turned in the second inning. Kevin Walters hit that two-run homer with two outs, and from there Cleveland just kept adding on. Walters finished with two home runs and five RBIs, and he was the difference in the game.
Sterling:
Kevin Walters… he had himself a big-time afternoon. Every time the Yankees tried to catch their breath, he stepped right back into the batter’s box and took it away again.
Suzyn:
The Yankees actually had some offense, John. Zamarripa hit two home runs, they had five different guys go deep, six homers overall —but the pitching and defense just couldn’t hold up.
Sterling:
That’s the cruel irony, Suzyn. You score nine runs on the road in a playoff game, and you think you’ve got a chance. But when the other team scores nineteen… you do not.
Suzyn:
Cleveland had traffic all day. Holloway, Amero, Barrios—everyone was on base, everyone was moving. It felt relentless.
Sterling:
Relentless is the word. This was wave after wave. Triples, homers, doubles in the gap—Jacobs Field became a very uncomfortable place for the Yankees in a hurry.
Suzyn:
And now Cleveland has two chances to close it out, John. For the Yankees, it’s about regrouping fast, because another game like this ends the season.
Sterling:
Indeed, Suzyn. The Yankees waited six long years to get back to October baseball… and Game One reminded them just how unforgiving October can be.
Suzyn:
They’ll need cleaner defense, better pitching, and a short memory tomorrow.
Sterling:
So the final from Cleveland: Indians nineteen, Yankees nine. Kevin Walters the star, the Yankees staggered, and the Wild Card Series tilts sharply toward Cleveland.
We’ll see you tomorrow—because in October, Suzyn…
Suzyn:
…you never know.