National Baseball League

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I don’t care about the box score. I don’t care that Cincinnati hit four home runs in the first two innings. I don’t care that the crowd was rocking or that it felt like a blowout early.
This game came down to one word:
experience.
Cincinnati jumps out 7–2 after two innings. Fantastic. Great. Gold star.
And then… they just stop. One run the rest of the game. One. That’s it.
That’s not how grown-up playoff teams behave.
This is what young teams do: they play the scoreboard instead of the opponent. They start protecting a lead instead of extending it. They think, “We’re good. Just don’t mess it up.” And guess what? That mindset always messes it up.
St. Louis, on the other hand? Totally unfazed. No panic. No hero ball. Just chip, chip, chip. A run here. A homer there. Another run. Then suddenly it’s the ninth inning, and the Reds are tight. The bullpen is tight. The stadium’s tight.
And when that happens?
The older, smarter team eats you alive.
Four runs in the ninth. FOUR.
Alex Cruz detonates the place. Ricky Martinez delivers the gut punch. That’s not luck — that’s a team that’s been here before and expects the other side to blink.
Here’s the stat that matters to me:
The Reds score seven in the first two innings… and one run over the final seven. That tells you everything. They never put the game away. They never stepped on the throat.
Playoff baseball is not about who peaks first. It’s about who can survive discomfort. St. Louis lives there. Cincinnati clearly does not — not yet.
So now the Cardinals are up 2–1, one win away from the NLCS, and the pressure is squarely on the Reds. Young team, tight series, season on the line.
And history tells us this:
When experience meets opportunity, youth usually provides the mistake.
Tomorrow?
Cincinnati better grow up fast — or St. Louis is walking out of that park like they own it.

[jg2977]

OH MY GOODNESS, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! 🤯
TWENTY-THREE RUNS! TWENTY-THREE! IN A PLAYOFF GAME!
Let me tell you something right now, and I don’t care who’s listening — THIS is San Francisco Giants baseball when it’s right. Chaos. Power. Pressure. Relentless at-bats. Just wave after wave after wave.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Chris, they gave up 18 runs.”
I DON’T CARE! This was a slugfest, and the Giants won it because they can out-punch anybody when it turns into a street fight.
Let’s start with the obvious:
EDGAR. PERDOMO. ARE YOU SERIOUS?!
Three home runs. SIX runs scored. Five driven in. This guy wasn’t hot — he was nuclear. This is postseason folklore stuff. This is the kind of game you’re telling your grandkids about like, “Yeah, I was watching that live.”
And then you look around and it’s not just him!
Valenzuela? THREE HOMERS. SEVEN RBI.
Fuentes? Bombs. Campbell? Big swings. Everybody eating! Everybody contributing!
This game was 9–8 after TWO INNINGS, folks. That’s not baseball — that’s a pinball machine. And in that environment, you know who I trust?
The Giants. Always.
Washington kept answering. Credit to them. They didn’t roll over. But every time they poked back, the Giants just said, “Cute. Here’s five more.” The nine-run eighth inning? That was a statement. That was the Giants saying, “Enough. We’re ending this.”
And now look at it big picture:
Giants up 2–1.
ONE WIN AWAY from the NLCS.
ONE. WIN.
You want to talk experience? You want to talk October DNA? This franchise knows how to survive insanity. They don’t need pretty. They don’t need clean. They just need one more win, and they’re right back where they belong — playing for the pennant.
Tomorrow? Nationals are tight. Pitching staff is exhausted. Crowd’s nervous.
Giants? Loose. Confident. Swinging like they own the place.
I’m telling you right now — finish it.
Get to the NLCS.
And after a game like THIS?
How do you bet against them? 👀🔥

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[jg2977]

Jim Nantz:
A crisp October afternoon at Fenway Park, and what unfolded was less a playoff game and more a full-scale offensive avalanche. The Tampa Bay Rays, a club that won 108 games for a reason, put on a relentless display, overwhelming the Boston Red Sox 20–9 and moving to within one win of the League Championship Series.
Boomer Esiason:
Jim, this was a mismatch once Tampa Bay hit the accelerator. You give up nine runs in the second inning at home in a playoff game? That’s like throwing a pick-six on your opening drive and then doing it again on the next possession. Boston never recovered.
Nantz:
The Rays sent 13 men to the plate in that second inning, setting the tone for a day in which Fenway simply couldn’t contain them. And it all started with Rod Francia’s three-run home run — a swing that silenced the ballpark and announced that this was going to be a very long afternoon for the Red Sox.
Esiason:
And then Ricky Abrego took over the game. Four-for-five, two home runs, a triple, a double — six runs driven in. That’s a quarterback carving up a defense that has no answers. He saw everything, crushed everything, and never let Boston breathe.
Nantz:
It wasn’t just Abrego, either. Eric Crismond, Francisco Hernandez, Ross Mojica — up and down the lineup, Tampa Bay applied constant pressure. They scored in six different innings, finishing with 17 hits and 20 runs, the kind of offensive output that defines a powerhouse.
Esiason:
And Jim, this is what elite teams do. They don’t play with their food. They get a lead, they extend it, and they keep swinging. Boston actually made contact — 13 hits, nine runs — but their pitching simply couldn’t stop the bleeding. Every mistake was punished.
Nantz:
Alex Ivey gave the Rays exactly what they needed on the mound, steadying things after some early offense from Boston and allowing Tampa Bay’s lineup to do what it does best. By the middle innings, the outcome felt inevitable.
Esiason:
Now the pressure flips completely. Tampa Bay is calm, confident, one win away. Boston? Season on the line, bullpen taxed, and staring at a Rays team that looks locked in and dangerous.
Nantz:
Final from Fenway Park: Rays 20, Red Sox 9. Tampa Bay leads the series two games to one — and tomorrow, they’ll have a chance to punch their ticket to the League Championship Series.

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“Wellllll… it wasn’t pretty… but it counts!”
Hi again, everybody, Harry Doyle here at Jacobs Field, where the Cleveland Indians very nearly turned a comfortable afternoon into a full-blown cardiac event — but they survive! Indians win it 9–8, and yes folks, they are still alive in this Division Series.
Cleveland jumped on Anaheim early, scoring four in the first and later building that nice, cozy 9–4 lead, which of course is baseball’s way of saying, “Uh oh, something terrible is about to happen.”
And sure enough — here come the Angels.
Homers flying everywhere.
Runs sneaking across.
Fans checking their pulse.
But somehow — SOMEHOW — Cleveland hangs on.
Luis Lira was the hero of the day, three hits, three RBI, including that big two-out single in the first that got the whole thing rolling. Mike Amero chipped in, Marrero chipped in, everybody chipped in — like a nice little potluck dinner… that almost caught fire.
Now the ninth inning?
Let’s just say Dan Howell made it interesting.
Very interesting.
Too interesting.
But the final out is recorded, the crowd exhales, and the scoreboard says it all:
INDIANS 9. ANGELS 8.
So the series isn’t over yet, folks. Cleveland lives to fight another day, Anaheim heads back to the dugout wondering how that one got away, and tomorrow?
Well…
Anything can happen.
For now, this is Harry Doyle saying:
“They didn’t make it easy — but they made it count.”

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St. Louis Cardinals: 8th NLCS berth
1906 1907 1908 1912 1915 1918 1933 1935

Here’s the truth, and it’s not complicated:
The St. Louis Cardinals are inevitable.
They’re going to the NLCS for the eighth time, second time in the last three seasons, and if you’re surprised by this, that’s on you, not them.
People will look at the score — 24–13 — and say, “Wow, what a crazy game.”
No.
That wasn’t chaos. That was exposure.
This series was the difference between a grown-up franchise and a fun story that didn’t know when to stop believing in itself.
Cincinnati had juice.
They had power.
They had moments.
But the Cardinals?
They had answers.
This is what St. Louis does. They don’t panic, they don’t flinch, and they don’t let teams “hang around.” Ricky Martinez literally said it out loud: you bury teams when you get the chance. That’s not trash talk — that’s institutional memory.
And let’s talk about Martinez for a second, because this is where Cowherd gets annoyed with the conversation.
People love stars.
St. Louis loves systems.
Martinez wins Series MVP hitting .526, four homers, twelve RBIs — fantastic. But look up and down that lineup. Everyone contributes. Everyone hurts you. There’s no “pitch around this guy and we’re safe.” That’s why Cincinnati’s pitching staff looked like it was stuck in rush-hour traffic — nowhere to go, horns blaring, engines overheating.
You score 24 runs in a playoff elimination game because you understand leverage, pressure, and timing. The Cardinals scored early, scored late, scored again just to make sure nobody had any funny ideas.
And yes — Cincinnati made it interesting in the eighth. Cute rally. Crowd gets loud. But here’s the Cowherd rule:
If your rally starts when you’re already down double digits, it’s not momentum — it’s math.
St. Louis never lost control of this game. Not emotionally. Not structurally. Not organizationally.
Now zoom out.
Eighth NLCS appearance.
Second in three years.
And they don’t even know who they’re playing yet — Nationals or Giants — and it doesn’t matter, because this version of the Cardinals doesn’t adjust to opponents.
Opponents adjust to them.
That’s the difference between teams that “have a window” and teams that own a decade.
St. Louis isn’t flashy.
They’re not loud.
They don’t sell hope.
They sell results.
And once again, they’re exactly where they always seem to end up —
one step from the World Series, while everyone else is explaining what went wrong.

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I’m SICK over this game. SICK.
This is a game the Giants had NO BUSINESS LOSING, and they found a way. They always find a way to make it harder than it needs to be.
You go into Washington, hostile park, chance to close out the series, and for FIVE innings you’re sleepwalking. Absolutely dead at the plate. Nothing. Zip. Zero. You spot them runs like it’s a charity event. And I’m saying to myself, what are we doing here?
Then — THEN — the Giants finally wake up in the sixth. BOOM. Four runs. Perdomo launches one, Campbell launches one, suddenly the whole thing flips. That’s championship DNA right there! That’s what I’ve been WAITING FOR.
And what do they do with it?
They hand it right back.
You let Washington hang around. You let Villavicencio breathe. And the minute you do that, you’re DONE. Because this guy — 4 for 4, every at-bat a dagger — he owned this game. Owned it. I don’t care what the box score says, he was the game.
Now let’s talk about the ninth inning because this is where I lose my mind.
Tie game. Tie game! You need ONE clean inning. ONE. And John Turner comes in and immediately — immediately — puts traffic on the bases. You can’t do that in October. You just can’t. No outs, fastball over the plate, base hit, game over, season hanging by a thread.
That’s not bad luck. That’s execution.
And don’t give me “well, it’s hard to win on the road.” I don’t wanna hear it! The Giants had chances all over this game. Left runners. Took bad at-bats. Fields stranded FIVE guys by himself! You can’t do that in a playoff game and expect the baseball gods to smile on you.
Now here’s the thing — and this is important.
The Giants are STILL in control.
Game 5 is back at Oracle Park. OUR park. OUR crowd. And I’ll tell you this right now: if San Francisco loses a one-game playoff at home after getting production from Perdomo, Campbell, Valenzuela, after Swinford gave you SEVEN solid innings — then you didn’t deserve to go to the NLCS anyway.
But make no mistake — this one hurts.
Washington didn’t beat the Giants with power. They beat them with pressure. Singles. Speed. Contact. They chipped and chipped and waited for the Giants to blink.
And in the ninth…
They blinked.
Friday is it. No tomorrow. No excuses.
Win at home — or you’re watching the Cardinals on TV wondering how you let THIS slip away.

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FRANCESA: Alright, Dog, this wasn’t a game. Let’s not kid ourselves. This was over in the second inning. Boston scores thirteen runs in the second inning. Thirteen. That’s not postseason baseball, that’s batting practice at Fenway.
RUSSO: Mike, stop it right there — the game was OVER before I finished my hot dog! I mean OVER! Thirteen runs in an inning? In an elimination game? I don’t care who you are, you’re not coming back from that. You’re not climbing Everest in flip-flops!
FRANCESA: Tampa Bay’s pitching completely collapsed. Flores couldn’t get anybody out, Tamez comes in and gives up five runs without recording an out, and suddenly you’re down by double digits. You’re the best team in baseball, 108 wins, and you’re getting embarrassed on the road.
RUSSO: Embarrassed is the word! This is the best record in the sport and they’re running pitchers out there like it’s spring training in St. Pete! Meanwhile Boston’s swinging like it’s the Home Run Derby — Petro, Galindo, Zboray, Armendariz, Croke — everybody’s got a hit, everybody’s got extra bases!
FRANCESA: Matt Croke set the tone. Four runs scored, three hits, stole a base. That lineup top to bottom was relentless. Petro hits the three-run homer in the middle of the inning — that’s when you shut the TV off if you’re Tampa.
RUSSO: And Fenway’s going nuts! You’ve got triples bouncing all over the place, two Armendariz home runs, Galindo hitting missiles — this looked like the ’27 Yankees out there, Mike! You’re just waiting for the mercy rule!
FRANCESA: Let’s be clear: Tampa’s offense wasn’t awful. They scored nine runs, fourteen hits. But the game was decided before the Rays even got back to the dugout in the second inning.
RUSSO: Exactly! This wasn’t “oh, Tampa didn’t show up.” They showed up — Boston just steamrolled them! You spot a team thirteen in one inning, you’re DONE. That’s a white flag inning.
FRANCESA: So now we’ve got a Game 5. Saturday. Back in Tampa. Winner take all.
RUSSO: And now ALL the pressure is on the Rays! Boston’s playing loose, Mike! Boston’s thinking, we already embarrassed you once. Tampa’s thinking, how did we let this get to five?
FRANCESA: Momentum swings matter. And Boston’s got it tonight. No question.
RUSSO: Thirteen runs, Mike. Thirteen! In the SECOND inning! I’ve been watching baseball my whole life — you don’t see that in October!
FRANCESA: Alright, Dog, we’ll take a break. When we come back — is Tampa Bay in trouble, or does the best team in baseball finally remind everyone why they won 108 games?

[jg2977]

Hi everybody, Harry Doyle here — and if you came for a tight pitchers’ duel… well… you came to the wrong ballpark.
Folks, this one was over early, over often, and over LOUD.
The Cleveland Indians absolutely blew the doors off the defending champion Anaheim Angels, 24–7, and if you’re scoring at home, that’s not a typo — that’s a football score with extra gravy.
Right out of the gate, Cleveland says, “Hey Angels, welcome to October in Ohio.”
Five runs in the first. Two more in the second. And after that? It was like batting practice… except the Angels were the ones shagging balls in the outfield.
And leading the parade?
Mike Amero.
Holy smokes.
Three home runs.
Five hits.
Seven RBIs.
Five runs scored.
At one point I thought he was going to come up again in the seventh just for fun. If there was a baseball within 300 feet of him tonight, it was in serious danger.
Danny Alay decided he didn’t want to be left out either — two homers, six RBIs, four hits. That’s a big night, folks. That’s the kind of box score you frame and put above the fireplace.
The Angels? Well… they tried. Fernandez gave them a few swings, but by the middle innings this thing was already in “get the bullpen loose and order dinner” territory.
Cleveland just kept piling it on — doubles, triples, homers, singles, more homers — at one point the scoreboard operator asked for a coffee break.
And the best part?
This wasn’t just a win.
This was a message.
The defending champs have been knocked flat on their backs, and now it’s all coming down to Game 5, back in Anaheim. Winner take all. One game. No safety net.
So buckle up, baseball fans.
Because if Game 4 was Cleveland saying “We’re not done yet,”
Game 5 is going to decide who gets the last laugh.
And as always…
This is Harry Doyle reminding you: You can’t predict baseball — but you can enjoy the heck out of it. ⚾️😄

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San Francisco Giants: 5th NLCS berth
1915 1916 1917 1934 1935

“Alright, alright, alright… can we breathe now? Can we exhale?”
This is Chris Russo, and Giants fans — you survived. Barely. By the skin of your teeth. Fingernails gone. Blood pressure through the roof. But you’re still standing.
Because the defending National League champions, the San Francisco Giants, somehow, some way, escaped the Washington Nationals 9–8 in a white-knuckle, edge-of-your-seat, no-lead-is-safe Game 5 at Oracle Park.
And let me tell ya something right now —
If you’re a Giants fan, this was NOT fun. This was not champagne. This was survival mode.
Washington would. Not. Go. Away.
They scored in six different innings. Every time the Giants grabbed a little air? BOOM — Nationals punched right back. Park, Mireles, Costeiro — base hit, homer, double, another run. You’re thinking, “What do we gotta do to put these guys away?”
And yet… the Giants always had just enough.
Why?
Because of Edgar Perdomo. Period. End of story.
The guy didn’t even need a huge box-score night today — one hit, a walk — because what he did the entire series was flat-out historic.
.545 average.
Seven homers.
Twelve RBIs.
Fourteen runs scored.
That’s not “hot.” That’s unstoppable. That’s “give me the MVP trophy before the buses leave the stadium.”
And how about the supporting cast stepping up when it mattered most?
Valenzuela with the big two-run homer early
Josh Wagner, Player of the Game, three hits, three runs — setting the table ALL day
Tyler Adams with the triple that made the whole ballpark gasp
And the Giants, quietly, doing something they’ve done all year: answering runs with runs
Pitching? Forget about it.
This was not Maddux vs. Koufax. This was hang-on-for-dear-life baseball.
Bachus guts through five. Rice bends but doesn’t break. And Jim Turner, even giving up a run, slams the door in the ninth like, “That’s enough — season’s over.”
And now let’s zoom out.
This is HUGE.
The Giants are headed to the National League Championship Series for the fifth time in franchise history — and for the second straight year. That matters. That’s legitimacy. That’s staying power.
But make no mistake —
They were pushed to the absolute brink by a Washington team that was fearless, loose, and one swing away from ripping the champs’ hearts out.
Now?
No rest. No sighs of relief anymore.
Because waiting for them?
The St. Louis Cardinals.
And if the Giants play that loose with leads again?
St. Louis will eat them alive.
But for today?
Giants fans — crack the drink, wipe the sweat, hug the dog, call your cardiologist.
You’re still alive.
And sometimes in October… that’s all that matters.

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[jg2977]

Tampa Bay Rays: 4th ALCS berth
1911 1932 1933 1935

Mike Francesa:
“Alright, Dog, first of all… can we just say this right out of the gate? This was not a baseball game. This was a pinball machine. This was a video game. Seventeen to fifteen! You kidding me? You’re the Tampa Bay Rays, you win 108 games, best record in baseball, and you gotta survive this to move on?”
Chris Russo:
“MIKE! MIKE! I’m exhausted just reading the box score! I mean, you score seventeen runs, and I’m still nervous in the ninth inning! This thing was nuts! Every inning — BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Homers, triples, guys flying all over the place! This was a madhouse!”
Mike:
“And yet — and this matters — the Rays survive. That’s the word. They survive the Red Sox in five, and the 1933 World Series champions are now headed to the ALCS for the fourth time in franchise history. That’s not nothing. That’s a real organization now.”
Russo:
“Yeah but Mike, Boston didn’t go quietly! I mean, look at Matt Croke! FIVE RBIs! A grand slam! Triples! He was a one-man wrecking crew! Petro’s tripling all over the field! Boston scored FIFTEEN runs on the road and still lost!”
Mike:
“Because Tampa’s lineup is relentless. Francia hits three home runs — three! Abrego with another monster day, series MVP, fourteen RBIs in the series, four homers. Hernandez everywhere. Gonzago. Crismond. They just keep coming at you.”
Russo:
“But Mike! Mike! The pitching! Both sides! Nobody could get anybody out! You blink, it’s four runs. You go get a sandwich, it’s six runs! Salemi gives up eight! Boston uses the entire bullpen by the fourth inning! I mean, this is complete chaos!”
Mike:
“And that’s why Tampa deserves credit. Lesser teams panic. Lesser teams fold. The Rays didn’t. Every time Boston punched, Tampa punched back harder. Four in the first. Four in the fourth. Six in the sixth. That’s championship DNA, Dog.”
Russo:
“I’ll give you that — but if you’re Kevin Cash, you’re not sleeping tonight! You give up fifteen runs at home? Against Cleveland or Anaheim? Forget it! You do this next round, you’re going home!”
Mike:
“True. But for today, you tip your cap. Tampa Bay wins the series three games to two, sends Boston home, and reminds the league: they’re still here. And now they wait — Cleveland or Anaheim — doesn’t matter. This team expects to be playing deep into October.”
Russo:
“And Mike… I need a nap. If every playoff game’s gonna be like this, I’m not making it to the World Series!”
Mike:
“Get some rest, Dog. October’s just getting started.”

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[jg2977]

Cleveland Indians: 10th ALCS berth
1902 1919 1920 1921 1923 1924 1925 1926 1930 1935

Harry Doyle:
“HOW ABOUT THIS ONE, FOLKS?! The Cleveland Indians didn’t just beat the defending World Series champions — they ran them out of the ballpark! Sixteen to five! This one was over faster than you can say ‘The Angels are going home!’”
“Let me tell ya, last year Anaheim was on top of the baseball world. Champagne, parades, nobody believed in them — all of it! Well guess what? This year, Cleveland believed in themselves, and they just blew the doors off Angel Stadium!”
“Twenty-two hits! TWENTY-TWO! It was a hit parade, a fireworks show, and a demolition job rolled into one! Holloway, Alay, Walters — doubles everywhere! Triples! Home runs! Mike Amero with another big fly! If you blinked, Cleveland scored again!”
“And Danny Alay? THREE hits, TWO home runs, FOUR runs batted in! That man was locked in tighter than the lid on a pickle jar! Player of the Game? You better believe it!”
“Meanwhile, Anaheim — and I say this with respect — they just couldn’t stop the bleeding. Pitching change after pitching change, and the Indians just kept swinging! By the fifth inning, folks, this thing felt like a mercy rule!”
“And how about the significance here! The Cleveland Indians are heading to their 10th American League Championship Series — and their first in five years! That’s right! Five long years watching October from the couch, and now they’re back where they think they belong!”
“As for the Angels — defending champs, yes — but tonight? The magic ran out. The crown is off, the season is over, and the flight home is waiting.”
“So dust off the champagne in Cleveland, folks! The Indians are moving on, Anaheim is moving out, and next stop… the ALCS against Tampa Bay!”
“And you can put it on the board… YES!”

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[jg2977]

1935 League Championship Series

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Chris Russo (Giants fan, fired up and pacing):
“MIKE, MIKE, MIKE — listen to me, OKAY?! I don’t care that the final score says 15–9, this game was a TOTAL ROUT and if you watched it, you KNOW it! This thing was 15–1! Fifteen to ONE! I’m sittin’ there sayin’, ‘Is this the National League Championship Series or batting practice?!’”
“Bill Valenzuela — are you kiddin’ me?! THREE home runs! SIX RBIs! The guy looked like Babe Ruth, Willie McCovey, and my childhood hero rolled into one! Every time he came up, Busch Stadium went quiet. QUIET! You could hear a pin drop in St. Louis!”
“And Edgar Perdomo again — because of COURSE! Leadoff homer, on base all day, setting the table, doing everything! This guy has been unconscious for two weeks now. You blink, he’s on second base!”
“Then the SIXTH INNING happens — eight runs! EIGHT! That’s where this series took a turn, Mike! Doubles, triples, bombs, bases-clearing doubles — Jeremy Dick empties the bases, makes it FIFTEEN TO ONE, and I’m thinkin’, ‘Alright, wrap it up, get on the plane!’”
“Now — I’ll say this — the Giants made it INTERESTING for no reason. You don’t let a team crawl back like that in an LCS, okay? Pritchett was good, then the bullpen comes in and suddenly it’s 15–9 and I’m yelling at the television like an absolute lunatic!”
“But here’s the bottom line: ROAD GAME, GAME ONE, STATEMENT MADE. The Giants walked into St. Louis and punched the Cardinals right in the mouth. You take the crowd out, you take the momentum, you take home-field advantage — DONE!”
“This is the defending National League champion saying, ‘We’re not done.’ Second straight NLCS, fifth in franchise history, and they just reminded everybody why they’re still standing!”
“Giants up 1–0… and Mike? If Valenzuela keeps swinging like THIS? This thing could be over quick. REAL quick.”

Mike Francesa (measured, exasperated sigh):
“Alright, alright, alright — take a breath. Take a breath, Christopher. It’s one game. ONE. I don’t need the parade route mapped out after Game One of a seven-game series.”
“Yeah, the Giants hit the ball. I watched the same game you did. Valenzuela had a monster night — nobody’s disputing that. Fifteen runs, fine. But let me explain something to you, because this is where you lose perspective.”
“This series is not about one explosive night. It’s about pitching depth, it’s about adjustments, and it’s about who handles the middle innings over the next six games, not one wild sixth inning where everything fell apart.”
“You’re acting like St. Louis forgot how to play baseball overnight. They won 101 games. They’re the number one seed. They don’t suddenly stink because one pitcher didn’t have it and the bullpen imploded.”
“And by the way — the Giants gave back eight runs late. Eight. That matters. That tells you the Cardinals are not rolling over here. If that game goes another inning or two, suddenly everyone’s nervous.”
“This is what happens in the postseason: you get a blowout early, everyone overreacts, and then the next night it’s a 3–2 game in the eighth inning and all the momentum talk disappears.”
“So relax. Giants played well. They did what they were supposed to do — they stole a road game. Congratulations. That’s it.
Call me when they win three more.”
“Until then?
It’s just Game One.”

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Harry Doyle (voice strained, halfway between disbelief and irritation):
“Well… this is not how you draw it up, folks. Not how you draw it up at all.”
“The Indians come down here feeling good, riding high, thinking maybe — just maybe — they can steal one in Tampa… and instead they get punched in the mouth. Thirteen to six. Eighteen hits allowed. EIGHTEEN.”
“I mean, you score six runs in a playoff game, you oughta have a chance. You really should! But not when the pitching staff turns Tropicana Field into a batting practice cage.”
“Chris Smith? FOUR hits. FOUR. Triples, singles, running wild out there like he owns the place. And Mark McDonald — don’t get me started — doubles all over the field, four RBIs, driving in runs like it’s a summer exhibition.”
“And here’s the part that’s gonna keep people in Cleveland awake tonight: this game was right there. Sixth inning, 6–5 Tampa. One run game! One swing either way! Then— BOOM — the wheels come off. Five runs in the seventh, two more in the eighth, and suddenly you’re looking at the scoreboard wondering how it got so ugly so fast.”
“Soto battled — I’ll give him that — but the bullpen? Oh boy. Inherited runners scoring, balls finding gaps, runners flying around the bases like it’s track season.”
“And don’t tell me about the hits Cleveland got — yeah, Barrios went deep, Mendez tripled twice — tied a playoff record, by the way — great! Fantastic! But when you give it all back and then some, it doesn’t matter!”
“So now the Indians are staring at an early hole. Game One goes to Tampa Bay, and the Rays remind everybody why they won 108 games this year.”
“Am I panicking? No. It’s a seven-game series. But I don’t like the tone it sets. You can’t give a team like this momentum — they don’t need any help.”
“Alright… deep breath. Burn the tape. Come back tomorrow.
But fellas — tighten it up. Because if this keeps up…”
“Well… this could get ugly in a hurry.”