National Baseball League

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Mike Francesa:
Alright, let’s start right here. Because this game—this game—was completely and totally insane. Washington goes up thirteen to one, Thirteen–One, and I’m saying to myself, this thing is over, we can all go home, get the early train.
Mad Dog Russo:
MIKE! MIKE! I’m watchin’ this game and I’m sayin’, this is batting practice! It’s 13–1, the crowd’s goin’ nuts, the Nationals are laughin’, smilin’—and then BOOM! Miami says, “Hold on a second!”
Mike:
That’s exactly right. Because instead of this being a laugher, it turns into a four-hour roller coaster. Miami scores sixteen runs, they get twenty-three hits, and they are one swing away from flipping the entire series on its head.
Mad Dog:
Floyd Holte! Are you kiddin’ me?! Five-for-six! A homer, a triple, singles all over the place! The guy’s on base every five seconds! If Washington loses this game, Holte’s name is hauntin’ them for the next decade!
Mike:
Absolutely. Holte was sensational. But here’s the thing—and this is why Washington survives—they never stopped scoring. They go up early, they answer, they answer again. Kenny Van Cleve hits three home runs, three! Including that two-run shot in the sixth that makes it 17–10, which turns out to be enormous.
Mad Dog:
And Mike, you knew Miami wasn’t done! Ninth inning—BAM! BAM! BAM! Homers everywhere! Yamane! Kawazu! Maxwell! The tying run’s practically on deck!
Mike:
That’s right. Nationals Park went from party to panic in about three minutes. You could feel it through the television. And Washington’s bullpen? Let’s be honest—they were hanging on with duct tape and prayer.
Mad Dog:
This was not a clean win, Mikey! This was survive-and-advance stuff! If you’re a Nationals fan, you’re thrilled, but you’re also sayin’, “How did we almost blow a twelve-run lead?!”
Mike:
But—and this matters—it evens the series. One game apiece. Washington proves they can slug with Miami. Miami proves they are never out of a game.
Mad Dog:
Game Three? Forget about sleep. Nobody’s sleepin’. After this? You throw the records out, you throw the leads out, you throw logic out!
Mike:
Final score: Washington 18, Miami 16. One of the wildest postseason games you’ll ever see. And now, Dog—winner take all.
Mad Dog:
I can’t wait, Mike. I cannot wait.

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Mike Francesa:
Alright, let’s get this straight right off the top. This is a major upset. The Cincinnati Reds—who hadn’t sniffed the postseason in eleven years—go into Los Angeles and knock out the Dodgers. Sweep them. End of story.
Mad Dog Russo:
MIKE, THIS IS A STUNNER! An absolute stunner! Everybody thought the Dodgers were just gonna roll here—home crowd, star power, the whole thing—and the Reds come in like, “Nah, this ends today.”
Mike:
And let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Josh Curtis. Superstar. Face of the franchise. What does he do? One for eleven. One. For. Eleven. He was a non-factor, Dog.
Mad Dog:
A BUM, Mike! He was a complete bum in this series! I’m sorry! When your big guy disappears like that, you got no chance. ZERO chance!
Mike:
That’s exactly right. Meanwhile, Cincinnati gets contributions up and down the lineup. Bo Celauro? Series MVP. Hits .583. All over the field. Triples, doubles, big swings late. And John Dale—four RBIs in the clincher, player of the game.
Mad Dog:
And this game wasn’t easy either! Nine to eight! Back and forth! Dodgers had fifteen hits, Mike! Fifteen! And it didn’t matter!
Mike:
Because when it came time to get big outs, Cincinnati’s bullpen did the job. Jimenez settles the game down, Arriaga slams the door in the ninth, and that’s it. Season over for Los Angeles.
Mad Dog:
And think about this, Mike—the Reds hadn’t been here in over a decade! Fans probably forgot what October baseball even felt like!
Mike:
Now they move on. And here’s where it gets interesting. They face the St. Louis Cardinals, who’ve been resting, waiting, watching. Veteran team. Physical team. No nonsense.
Mad Dog:
MIKE, DON’T SLEEP ON CINCINNATI! You knock off the Dodgers like this, you believe you can beat anybody! That’s dangerous!
Mike:
Final score, Game Two: Cincinnati 9, Los Angeles 8. The Reds advance. The Dodgers go home. And Dog—this postseason just got a lot more interesting.
Mad Dog:
Ohhh baby. October baseball, Mike. NOTHING like it.

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