National Baseball League

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🎙 Mike & The Mad Dog
Mike: Alright, Dog, here’s the deal — the Cardinals were NOT going down quietly. Not after that 26–19 circus the other night!
Dog: Mikey, they came out swinging! Three in the first! Three in the second! McNiff didn’t know what hit him!
Mike: Cruz double! Martinez double! Eckert double! It was batting practice in the first two innings!
Dog: And the Yankees keep chippin’ away! Woodfin homers in the third! Homers again in the fifth! The kid’s got two bombs!
Mike: Kassebaum goes deep in the first, Thomas runnin’ wild, they take the lead in the sixth — it’s 8–7 Yankees and you’re thinkin’, “Okay, here we go, broom time.”
Dog: Not so fast!
Mike: Bottom six — Smith single, Dominguez single, Martinez double — bang! Tie game! Then Eckert! Two-run single off Colon! That’s the game right there!
Dog: That’s the hit! That’s the swing that saved the Series!
Mike: And Lerner in the ninth? Strikes out Kassebaum! Strikes out Shipps! Mortensen walks and they try to stretch it? OUT at third! Ballgame!
Dog: Cardinals finally breathe. But they’re still down 3–1, Mikey. They gotta do it three more times.

🎙 Colin Cowherd
Let me zoom out.
This game wasn’t about talent. We know the Yankees have more of it. It was about pride.
When you give up 26 runs in a World Series game, you either fold — or you respond emotionally.
St. Louis responded.
They were aggressive early. Doubles. Pressure. Stolen bases. Forcing mistakes. They scored in five different innings.
Here’s the key moment: top of the sixth, Yankees take the lead 8–7. That’s deflating. You just fought back, and the heavyweight lands another punch.
A lesser team collapses there.
Instead? Five straight baserunners in the bottom half. Martinez delivers. Eckert delivers. Montes adds on. That’s resilience.
Now — let’s be honest. The Yankees still have the superior lineup. Woodfin homers twice. Kassebaum is locked in. They still put up 10.
But psychologically? The Cardinals needed proof they could survive a shootout.
They got it.

🎙 Bob Costas
There is something uniquely compelling about a team that refuses the inevitability assigned to it.
The Cardinals entered this evening trailing three games to none — and having endured one of the most punishing offensive displays in World Series history.
Yet from the outset, there was urgency.
Alex Cruz doubled to open the first. The Cardinals would score three in that inning. Three more in the second. By the end of two frames, it was 6–1, and Busch Stadium felt alive again.
The Yankees, true to form, countered. Justin Woodfin struck twice with home runs. Cory Kassebaum added his own. By the sixth inning, New York had reclaimed the lead, 8–7.
It was at that juncture that the Cardinals authored their defining moment.
Chris Smith and Jose Dominguez ignited the rally. Ricky Martinez delivered the tying double. And Chris Eckert’s two-run single — precise and timely — restored the lead for good.
B.J. Lerner’s ninth inning was fittingly tense. Two strikeouts. A walk. A final out at third base — a reminder that October often hinges on inches and decisions.
The Series remains tilted toward New York.
But on this clear October afternoon in St. Louis, the Cardinals reclaimed something essential:
Belief.

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New York Yankees: 1937 World Series Champions (3rd title)
1909 1912 1937

🎙 Mike & The Mad Dog
Mike: First of all, let’s be honest. Seventeen runs. Seventeen! In a World Series clincher! I mean what are we doing here?
Dog: They BLASTED ’em, Mike! BLASTED ’em! This wasn’t a win, this was a demolition! Busch Stadium turned into a batting practice session!
Mike: And you wait twenty-five years for a championship — twenty-five! — and you close it out with a 17–9 game? That’s not tension. That’s a parade starting in the fifth inning.
Dog: And Josh Thomas?! Two homers, six RBIs! Eleven total bases! That’s Ruthian! That’s video-game stuff!
Mike: The Cardinals make it 11–9 in the eighth and you’re thinking maybe there’s drama… and then what happens?
Dog: BOOM! Six runs in the ninth! That’s it! Slam the door, lock it, throw away the key!
Mike: Third title in franchise history. Second time they beat St. Louis. And 123 wins in the regular season! This isn’t just a champion — this is a powerhouse.

🎙 Michael Kay
You can’t script it any better than this.
For the first time in a quarter century… the New York Yankees are champions of the world. And they didn’t just win — they overwhelmed.
Josh Thomas put on a performance for the ages. Two home runs. Six runs driven in. Triples, doubles — the entire repertoire. When the Cardinals made their push and cut it to two, the Yankees answered like great teams do.
That ninth inning? Championship DNA. No panic. Just relentless offense.
Greg Campanelli said it best: when one guy had an off day, 24 others picked him up. That’s not just a quote — that’s what we saw all season long in a 123–39 masterpiece.
And now? The parade down Broadway. A generation of waiting — over.

🎙 Colin Cowherd
This is why I always say — dynasties aren’t built on stars. They’re built on infrastructure.
The Yankees didn’t win this title because of one moment. They won it because they built a culture. 123 wins. Depth up and down the lineup. No holes. When St. Louis made it 11–9, lesser teams tighten up. You know what New York did? They dropped six in the ninth.
That’s psychological dominance.
Josh Thomas was spectacular — but look deeper. Seven walks as a team. Doubles everywhere. They can beat you with power, with patience, with pressure.
Second championship over St. Louis. Third overall. And after twenty-five years? That’s organizational patience paying off.
This isn’t luck. This is architecture.

🎙 Bob Costas
On a clear October afternoon in St. Louis, beneath a Midwestern sky brushed with autumn wind, the New York Yankees reclaimed a place in history.
Seventeen runs — an almost operatic outpouring of offense — secured their first championship in twenty-five years. It was less a narrow triumph than a declaration.
Josh Thomas authored the defining chapter: two home runs, six runs batted in, eleven total bases — a performance that will echo in franchise lore. Yet what defined this club was not a single star turn, but cohesion.
They finished the season 123–39, a testament to consistency rare in any era. And fittingly, they captured the crown against the Cardinals — as they had once before — renewing a classic October pairing.
For a generation of fans who had waited patiently, this was not merely a victory. It was restoration.
And now, the Yankees stand again where history so often finds them — at the summit. 🏆

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1938 MLB Standings

🗽 AMERICAN LEAGUE
🐐 New York Yankees – 118–44 (.728)
FRANCESCA:
“One-hundred-eighteen wins. Back-to-back years of dominance. This isn’t a contender — this is a machine.”
RUSSO:
“They don’t just beat ya, they BURY ya! Every division winner in the American League has 108 or more wins! It’s outrageous!”
COSTAS:
“They are the defending champions, and somehow they look even more inevitable. The offense remains suffocating. The only question is whether October introduces volatility.”
The Yankees earn the BYE. Again. The empire rolls on.
🏭 Cleveland Indians – 112–50 (.691)
FRANCESCA:
“Quietly one of the best records in baseball history — and they’re the second story in their own league.”
COSTAS:
“A balanced, complete ballclub. Deep rotation, disciplined lineup. They are built for a series.”
Also earn the BYE.
👼 Anaheim Angels – 108–54 (.667)
RUSSO:
“Nobody’s talking about ‘em! 108 wins! That wins you most leagues!”
Instead? They host a Wild Card matchup.
🔥 AL Wild Card Series
Kansas City Royals (94–68) vs Tampa Bay Rays (111–51)
Toronto Blue Jays (85–77) vs Anaheim Angels (108–54)
COSTAS:
“Tampa winning 111 games and having to play immediately speaks to how top-heavy this league is.”
FRANCESCA:
“The Rays better not blink. That’s a brutal draw.”

🌉 NATIONAL LEAGUE
🧡 San Francisco Giants – 102–60 (.630)
Defending NL powerhouse.
BYE secured.
COSTAS:
“They remain October-tested. You cannot underestimate institutional memory.”
🐦 St. Louis Cardinals – 93–69 (.574)
Back in the postseason after last year’s World Series loss.
RUSSO:
“They remember 17–9! They haven’t forgotten!”
BYE team. Dangerous.
🌊 NL Wild Card Matchups
Colorado Rockies (89–73) vs San Diego Padres (94–68)
Milwaukee Brewers (89–73) vs Miami Marlins (84–78)
FRANCESCA:
“Miami wins the East at 84–78. That’s the other end of the spectrum.”
COSTAS:
“It underscores how uneven the divisions were. But once the postseason begins, records become prologue.”
🎯 Big Picture – The “Second Season”
RUSSO:
“You’ve got FOUR teams over 108 wins in the American League! Four! This is heavy artillery!”
FRANCESCA:
“The Yankees are the favorite. Cleveland’s right there. The Giants lurk. And St. Louis wants revenge.”
COSTAS (closing tone):
“This is one of the most top-heavy Octobers in recent memory. The Yankees seek to extend their dominance. The Giants aim to reclaim the crown. The Cardinals want redemption. And somewhere in the Wild Card chaos, a surprise may be waiting.”

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Tropicana Field, Tampa, Florida — October 4th, 1938.

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.
There are certain October days when the air feels a bit lighter, when the calendar insists it is autumn, but the ballpark tells you it is something more. Today was one of those days — the beginning of what we like to call the second season.
The Wild Card Series opened with the Kansas City Royals visiting the Tampa Bay Rays — and what unfolded was less a ballgame and more a symphony played fortissimo.
Kansas City struck first, as though eager to announce their presence. Chris Taylor doubled sharply into the afternoon, Raul Manzo followed with a base hit, and before the Rays had fully settled in, the Royals had hung two runs upon the scoreboard.
But October has a way of answering.
In the bottom of the first, a young shortstop by the name of Eric Crismond stepped to the plate. And with one fluid swing, he sent a ball arching toward right — 332 feet of punctuation. A solo home run. Just like that, the tone shifted.
And if you’ll forgive the understatement… he was only beginning.
This was a game that refused to sit quietly.
By the third inning, Kansas City had surged ahead 6–4, powered by Chris Bish, who seemed intent on stretching every base path to its absolute limit. Three triples on the afternoon — tying an American League postseason mark — and each one struck with the authority of a man determined to outrun history itself.
In the fifth, the Royals appeared to seize control. Home runs from Philippe Carbigos and Chris Taylor extended the lead to 10–4. And you could almost sense the dugout in blue beginning to exhale.
But baseball, as always, reminds us that comfort is temporary.
The Rays responded not with a whisper, but with a roar.
Rod Francia lifted a two-run homer in the fifth. Johnny Nava added another — a soaring drive into the Florida sky. And then came the sixth inning, that curious chapter where games sometimes lose all sense of proportion.
Mark McDonald walked. He stole second — as he would do three times today. And then Eric Crismond, already having homered once, circled the bases again. A drive into the gap, legs churning, the crowd rising… an inside-the-park home run. Two runs home. A stadium in full voice.
The scoreboard read 14–13 Tampa Bay. And we were only in the sixth.
By the seventh, the Rays had fully seized the afternoon.
Rod Francia launched a three-run homer, his second of the day. Pablo Parga followed with one of his own. Five runs in the inning. The lead swelled. The noise never faded.
And at the center of it all stood Crismond.
Four hits. Two home runs. Four runs scored. Four driven in. Eleven total bases. A performance that will be retold whenever October baseball is discussed in this city.
When the final out settled into leather, the scoreboard read:
Tampa Bay 20.
Kansas City 13.
Thirty-three runs. Thirty-five hits. Nine home runs between them. It was less a duel and more a display of unchecked momentum.
Kansas City’s manager, Francisco Ramirez, said afterward, “Whenever you score that many runs, you expect to win.” And he is quite right. Most afternoons, thirteen runs is an avalanche.
Today, it was merely a foothill.
And so, the Rays take a one-game-to-none lead in this best-of-three series.
Tomorrow, these two clubs will return to this very diamond. The Royals will attempt to steady the storm. The Rays will try to ride it.
Because in October, the margins shrink, the swings grow louder, and sometimes… the game becomes unforgettable.
And on this Tuesday in 1938, it most certainly did. ⚾

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🎙️ Angel Stadium of Anaheim — October 4th, 1938.

There are postseason games decided by inches. And then there are postseason games decided by momentum — the kind that gathers slowly, then overwhelms everything in its path.
Game One of the American League Wild Card Series between the Toronto Blue Jays and the Anaheim Angels belonged firmly to the latter category.
By late afternoon in Southern California, beneath clear skies and a breeze drifting toward left field, Anaheim had authored a 15–6 victory that felt both emphatic and instructive.
Toronto struck first. Hugo Abreu, with a crisp, efficient swing, deposited a Wayne Dirlam offering into the seats in the opening inning. For a brief moment, the visitors carried the tone.
But October has a way of demanding immediate replies.
With two outs in the bottom of the first, Ricky Resendez turned on a Chris Neese pitch and sent it soaring 407 feet — a two-run home run that instantly reframed the afternoon. From that point forward, Anaheim rarely relinquished control.
If there was a single thread weaving the game together, it was the poised and polished presence of 24-year-old third baseman David Avila.
Three hits in five at-bats. A double. Three runs batted in. Two runs scored. But beyond the arithmetic, there was something else — timing. His single in the second extended the lead. His double in the eighth added another layer of separation. Each swing arrived at precisely the moment Anaheim required it.
He looked, in every sense, like a player entirely at home in October.
Anaheim’s offense unfolded in chapters.
In the second, Corey Wright tripled sharply to right-center, and Avila followed with a run-scoring single. In the fourth, Juan Garcia doubled home a pair, capitalizing on Toronto miscues — five errors in total for the Blue Jays, an unforgiving number in postseason play.
By the sixth, the Angels began to stretch the margin beyond comfort. David Antillon launched a two-run homer to left, pushing the advantage to 9–2. And in the seventh, Anaheim delivered the decisive surge: four runs, three hits, crisp execution. Carlos Guzman and Avila again in the middle of it all.
When Guzman later tripled in the eighth — one of seventeen Anaheim hits on the day — the outcome was no longer in doubt, only the final tally.
To Toronto’s credit, there were flashes.
Evan Occhipinti homered and collected three hits. Benito Aguilar and Jose Reyes each added late drives. But every rally felt solitary, disconnected — a response rather than an assertion.
Meanwhile, Anaheim’s approach was cumulative. Pressure layered upon pressure. A lineup that refused to thin.
Wayne Dirlam was not flawless — three home runs allowed — but he was steady enough, navigating seven-plus innings and preserving the bullpen. In a short series, that matters.
The final numbers tell a story both simple and stark:
Fifteen runs. Seventeen hits. No errors.
A one-game-to-none series lead.
Afterward, Avila spoke with calm satisfaction: “It feels good when a plan comes together.”
Indeed it does.
For the Angels, the plan was depth, patience, and capitalizing on opportunity. For the Blue Jays, the margin for error has vanished entirely.
Tomorrow, in this same ballpark, Toronto will attempt to extend its season. Anaheim will try to shorten the series.
And if Game One was any indication, the Angels understand precisely what October requires.

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Alright, let’s do this the right way.
You know what this game was?
It was a reminder that in October, there are tiers.
And the Miami Marlins just told the Milwaukee Brewers exactly which tier they’re in.
First of all — context matters.
Milwaukee comes in thinking, “We’ve got enough offense. We can slug a little. We’ll trade punches.”
That’s cute.
Because Miami doesn’t trade punches. Miami overwhelms you.
12–4.
17 hits.
Zero errors.
Complete control by the fourth inning.
And the star? Not subtle. Not complicated.
Tomoo Kawazu.
Three hits.
Two bombs.
A double.
Five RBIs.
Ten total bases.
That’s not a hot night. That’s a message.
Let’s talk about the first inning.
Milwaukee’s Tyler Wesley isn’t even out of the gate before Manny Sigaran is flying around the bases. And then Kawazu steps in and lines a two-run double. That’s not luck. That’s pressure. That’s a lineup that makes you throw strikes and then punishes you when you do.
You could feel it immediately: Miami wasn’t playing tight.
They were hunting.
Now here’s where it flipped.
Second inning — Brewers jump ahead 3–2. Jesus Costeiro hits one out. Jacobson doubles. Sanchez singles. Suddenly Milwaukee thinks, “Okay, we’ve got something.”
And this is where playoff baseball separates the mentally strong from the hopeful.
Bottom of the third.
Six runs.
Daggett goes deep. Kawazu goes 425 feet to center. Absolute no-doubt swing. Then the line keeps moving. Singles. Doubles. Pressure. Relentless.
Eight to three.
Ballgame.
You don’t recover from that in October unless the other team lets you.
Miami never did.
Let’s give credit where it’s due.
Alejandro Coronado — complete game. Nine innings. 115 pitches. Seven strikeouts. Yes, he gave up two solo shots to Costeiro, but here’s the difference:
They were cosmetic.
When you’re pitching with a six-run cushion, you attack. You don’t nibble. That’s confidence. That’s trust in your lineup.
Meanwhile, Wesley and Cortez? Combined five earned runs before Milwaukee could blink. ERA’s north of 16 and 21 for the day. That’s postseason reality.
Here’s what I love about Miami.
They had 2-out RBIs.
They ran the bases.
They stole bags.
They didn’t let innings die.
That’s a mature offense.
And look — Milwaukee isn’t awful. They just ran into a buzzsaw. Six hits total. Four runs. Seven strikeouts. They left four on base. They had chances early and couldn’t stretch it.
That’s the difference between a division winner that squeaks in… and a team that believes it’s built for October.
Jeremy Gangler Jr. said after the game, “We’re one game closer to our goal.”
Simple. Direct. No theatrics.
That’s confidence.
Miami leads the series 1–0.
And here’s the takeaway:
If Kawazu is this version of himself — patient, explosive, and driving the baseball 400-plus feet in humid October air — Milwaukee doesn’t just have to win tomorrow.
They have to change the tone of the entire series.
Because Game 1?
That wasn’t competitive.
That was a statement.

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🎙️ Joe Buck:
Good afternoon from PETCO Park in San Diego, where the postseason is underway and the crowd of 34,359 has already made this feel like October baseball should. Game 1 of the National League Wild Card Series between the Colorado Rockies and the San Diego Padres — and it was San Diego taking the opener, 6–3.
🎙️ Alex Rodriguez:
Joe, this had everything you want in a playoff game — tension early, a momentum swing in the middle innings, and then a star player taking over late. And that guy was George Setton. Three hits, a home run, three RBIs — he completely controlled this game.
Early Chess Match
🎙️ Buck:
Through three innings, not much to separate the two starters. Alex Ramirez for San Diego, Lucas Wolton for Colorado — both working carefully, both working around traffic.
But in the fourth, San Diego breaks through. An error by shortstop Tony Ramirez allows the first run to score. Not a hit — but in October, those little cracks turn into openings.
🎙️ Rodriguez:
And that’s playoff baseball, Joe. You don’t always have to barrel balls at 110 miles per hour. You pressure the defense. You make them execute. Colorado didn’t.
Rockies Punch Back
🎙️ Buck:
Colorado answers in the fifth. Dustin Gates — two triples on the day, tying a franchise postseason record — gets it started. Then Santillan and Watson with clutch two-out RBIs. Just like that, the Rockies lead 3–1.
🎙️ Rodriguez:
And that’s big-time situational hitting. Two-out RBIs in the postseason? That’s championship DNA. For a moment, it felt like Colorado had seized control.
Padres Respond Immediately
🎙️ Buck:
But the Padres didn’t blink.
Bottom of the fifth — Chris Perkins triples. Setton follows with an RBI single. Later in the inning, Steve Schleicher drives in another. Tie game, 3–3.
🎙️ Rodriguez:
That’s what great teams do. They don’t let the game speed up on them. Perkins set the tone all day — three hits, and he also tied a playoff record with two triples. That’s impact speed.
The Defining Swing
🎙️ Buck:
Seventh inning. Tie ballgame. One out.
Setton.
🎙️ Rodriguez (excited):
This is a hanging pitch from Wolton — 110 off the bat, 435 feet to left-center. That’s not a cheap home run. That’s a superstar swing in a postseason moment.
🎙️ Buck:
And just like that, San Diego back in front, 4–3.
Insurance and Shutdown
🎙️ Buck:
In the eighth, Cesar Morin adds a solo homer. Perkins triples again — remarkable day — and Setton drives him in for his third RBI of the afternoon. Padres lead 6–3.
🎙️ Rodriguez:
And then Don Kantorski shuts the door. Four strikeouts in two innings. That’s dominance out of the bullpen.
Final Thoughts
🎙️ Buck:
Final score: Padres 6, Rockies 3. San Diego takes a 1–0 series lead and now has two chances to eliminate Colorado.
🎙️ Rodriguez:
Joe, here’s the big takeaway: Setton was the best player on the field, and in short series, that matters. When your best guy plays like that, the entire dugout believes.
If Colorado wants to extend this series, they have to clean up the defense and cash in on opportunities. Because tonight, San Diego showed composure, power, and depth.
🎙️ Buck:
Game 2 tomorrow from San Diego. The postseason is just getting started — and already, the intensity feels different.

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Alright, let’s have an adult conversation about this.
The Tampa Bay Rays didn’t just beat the Kansas City Royals 12–9.
They outgrew them.
That’s what this was.
Kansas City scored nine runs.
Thirteen hits.
Chris Bish goes nuclear again — 4-for-5, 11 total bases, four RBIs. The guy hit .700 in the series with a 2.000 slugging percentage.
And they got swept.
That’s not bad luck.
That’s a structural problem.
Here’s the difference between good teams and postseason teams:
Good teams can score.
Postseason teams can respond.
Every. Single. Time.
Kansas City goes up 4–2 after Bish homers in the third. That’s a big swing. That’s a road punch.
What does Tampa do?
Fourth inning. Boom. Three-run homer by Chris Eckert.
Mark McDonald steals second. Crismond doubles him in.
Six–four Rays.
You blink, the lead is gone.
Let’s talk about Eric Crismond.
Four hits in Game 1.
Four hits in Game 2.
Three home runs in the series.
.727 average.
.727 OBP.
That’s not “hot.” That’s control.
Some players get loud in October.
Crismond slows the game down.
He’s not chasing. He’s not expanding. He’s dictating.
That two-run homer in the eighth? That’s the dagger. Kansas City makes it 10–7, feels like they’re hanging around, and Crismond just ends it. Calmly.
Stars don’t get louder. They get simpler.
Now let’s zoom out.
Tampa scored 20 in Game 1.
They scored 12 in Game 2.
Thirty-two runs in two playoff games.
And here’s the scary part: it wasn’t chaotic.
It was layered.
Rod Francia triples twice in Game 1.
William Gama hits a 410-foot homer.
Francisco Hernandez goes 433 to center.
Eckert steals bases and hits bombs.
This isn’t one guy going crazy.
This is lineup depth.
And that’s why they’re dangerous.
Kansas City? They fought. I’ll give them that.
They kept scratching back. Three in the eighth. Two in the ninth. Bish and Carbigos refusing to quit.
But when your pitching line looks like this:
Larsen — 6 earned in 3.2
Ocana — 4 runs in 2
Burnell — another 2
You’re asking your offense to win a track meet every night.
That works in July.
It doesn’t work in October.
Now here’s where it gets interesting.
The Rays move on.
And who’s waiting?
The 118-win, defending champion, machine-like New York Yankees.
And oh by the way — this is a rematch of last year’s Division Series, when the Yankees were down 0–2 and came storming back on their way to a World Series title.
So let me ask you something:
Are the Rays ready for the bully now?
Because Kansas City was talented.
But the Yankees are inevitable.
The difference between a Wild Card and a dynasty is margin.
Tampa just proved they have offense.
The question is — when the game slows down against New York… do they still control it?
That’s the series.
And if Crismond keeps playing chess while everyone else is playing checkers?
We might have something.
But now the real test begins.

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🎙️ Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.
From Angel Stadium of Anaheim — under a gentle California sun, 69 degrees, a breeze drifting toward left at eleven miles per hour — the postseason continued on this fifth day of October, 1938.
And before 34,586 hopeful souls, the Anaheim Angels completed their work with quiet authority, defeating the Toronto Blue Jays by a score of 8 to 2, and sweeping the Wild Card Series two games to none.
Toronto began with ambition.
Evan Occhipinti opened the afternoon by lacing a double into the outfield grass, a ball struck crisply at 104 miles per hour — though in 1938 we might simply say it was well met. A run would score shortly thereafter, and for a brief moment the visitors held the advantage.
But baseball, like life, often responds immediately.
In the bottom of the first, Carlos Guzman worked a walk. David Antillon joined him aboard. Juan Garcia’s ground ball moved the pieces into place. And then Ricky Resendez, with the patience of a man waiting for the right train, sent a ground-rule double down the line. Two runs would cross before the inning exhaled.
Just like that, Anaheim led 3–1.
Toronto trimmed it to 3–2 in the second. Juan Montoya doubled. Gabe Maxwell singled him home. It felt, at that point, like a game still negotiating its terms.
But the fourth inning — ah, the fourth inning.
David Avila drew a walk. A passed ball nudged him forward. Mathéo Rios doubled sharply to score him. Corey Wright lifted a fly, and then Guzman — the steady shortstop who would later be named series Most Valuable Player — lined a triple into right field. The ball rattled about while the crowd rose as one.
Four runs in the inning.
A 7–2 cushion.
And a sense that the afternoon had turned irrevocably.
The star on the mound was Danny Cespedes.
Seven and one-third innings. Six hits. Two earned runs. Nine strikeouts. One hundred twenty pitches delivered with composure. His fastball had life, his breaking ball had purpose, and more importantly, he had rhythm — that invisible quality pitchers chase like poets search for a line.
When Oscar Trejo recorded the final out in the ninth, there was no drama. Only conclusion.
And how fitting that Carlos Guzman — calm, disciplined, and quietly relentless — would stand at the center of the series.
For the two games, he hit .444, reached base at a .545 clip, scored five times, and drove in three. No home runs. No theatrical gestures. Simply presence. Simply timing.
After the game he said, “It feels like a special year.”
Those words have a way of lingering in October.
Anaheim advances now to meet the Cleveland Indians in the Division Series — a club rested, formidable, and watching carefully from afar.
Toronto, meanwhile, returns home with the quiet understanding that October offers no grace period. Six hits today. Ten strikeouts. Opportunities that flickered and vanished.
And so the Angels move forward.
Eight runs on ten hits.
A sweep.
A ballclub playing not loudly, but confidently.
You know, in this game, momentum can be as subtle as a breeze — and just as persistent. Right now, that breeze seems to be blowing through Anaheim.
And as always… we shall see where it carries them. ⚾

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Milwaukee at Miami — October 6, 1938

It was a cloudy afternoon in South Florida, 81 degrees, a gentle breeze drifting out toward right field at eight miles per hour — the sort of day that invites baseball to linger a little longer than expected.
And linger it did.
Before 52,248 at LoanDepot Park, the Miami Marlins completed a most emphatic statement, defeating the Milwaukee Brewers 16 to 10, and sweeping the Wild Card Series in two straight.
You know, there were those who wondered whether an 84–78 ballclub belonged in October. Baseball, as it so often does, answered in its own eloquent way.
The afternoon began innocently enough. Milwaukee scratched for a hit in the first, but in the bottom half Octavio Flores doubled to open the inning — a crisp reminder that October nerves can travel both ways. Then came Jesús Davila.
On a full count, after fouling away pitch after pitch as though refusing to yield the moment, Davila lifted a drive into left. It carried… and carried… and disappeared.
A two-run home run. Miami 2, Milwaukee nothing.
And that was merely the overture.
In the second inning, Tyler Adams launched a two-run shot of his own. Floyd Holte doubled — one of three on the day, tying a National League postseason record — and before the inning was through, four more Marlins had crossed the plate.
Six to nothing, and the ballpark had found its voice.
To Milwaukee’s credit, they would not go quietly. Antonio Sanchez homered in the fourth. The Brewers chipped away, inning by inning, like a craftsman patiently sanding rough edges. By the sixth, it was 7–6 — and you could almost feel the game drawing a breath.
But October has a way of rewarding the bold.
In the bottom of the sixth, Davila struck again — another two-run homer, his second of the afternoon. He would finish with eight total bases and be named Player of the Game. There are performances in October that seem to glow a little brighter, and this was one of them.
Still, the Brewers lingered within reach.
Until the seventh.
Ah, the seventh.
Chris Grissett tripled. A wild pitch scored him. Manny Sigaran tripled home two more. Floyd Holte doubled yet again. And then Tomoo Kawazu — quiet, steady Kawazu — sent a two-run homer deep into the Miami sky.
Seven runs in the inning.
From tension to separation in a matter of minutes.
Sixteen to seven.
And just like that, the question was no longer who would win, but simply when it would end.
Milwaukee added three in the ninth — including a towering home run from Jesús Costeiro — but it felt like the final chapter of a novel already decided.
Sixteen runs. Seventeen hits. No errors.
Miami left only five men on base all afternoon — a portrait of efficiency.
And Tomoo Kawazu, who hit .500 for the series with three home runs and seven runs batted in, was named the Most Valuable Player. Afterward, he admitted a touch of surprise at the sweep — though the box scores tell us it was no accident.
So the Marlins advance, and waiting for them are the well-rested St. Louis Cardinals, who enjoyed a bye through this opening round.
October is a curious month. It does not ask how you arrived — only what you will do once you are here.
For now, Miami has done quite enough.
Sixteen to ten, the final.
A sweep.
And the “second season” continues. ⚾

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[jg2977]

San Diego Padres 9, Colorado Rockies 5
October 6, 1938 — PETCO Park

There is something almost efficient — almost businesslike — about a sweep in October.
No lingering suspense. No tortured bullpen choreography in a winner-take-all. Just clarity.
And with San Diego’s 9–5 victory over Colorado on a clear Southern California afternoon, all four Wild Card Series in Major League Baseball have ended the same way: swiftly. Decisively. Two games, and done.
The so-called “second season” wasted little time sorting itself out.
For the Padres, the tone was established early.
Miguel Peña, who would earn the victory, navigated the early Colorado traffic with a composure that belied the moment. The Rockies nicked him for single runs in the second and third — Jordan Watson driving in one, opportunistic baserunning producing another — but Peña never allowed the inning to avalanche. He worked 7⅔ innings, struck out six, and — perhaps most importantly — kept the game from quickening.
October baseball is often about tempo as much as talent.
The true inflection point arrived in the second inning.
Manuel Rico singled. George Effinger followed. Cesar Morin doubled. And then Chris Perkins — the series’ quiet metronome — lashed a triple into the outfield gap, driving in two. In a flourish that felt almost cinematic, Perkins would later steal home in the same frame.
Four runs. A 4–1 lead. Control.
Colorado would hang within reach — trimming it to 4–2, then watching as Steve Schleicher’s fifth-inning triple stretched it to 5–2. But the decisive blow came in the seventh.
Perkins homered to right. George Setton answered with a towering drive of his own. Danny Speigel doubled. Rico tripled. Four runs in the inning, and the scoreboard read 9–2.
By then, the game felt settled in spirit if not yet in arithmetic.
The Rockies did muster one last gasp in the eighth — Tony Ramirez launching a three-run homer 444 feet into the San Diego afternoon — but it was an echo, not a shift. Don Kantorski recorded the final four outs without further disturbance.
Final line:
San Diego, 9 runs on 14 hits.
Colorado, 5 runs on 7 hits.
The Padres move on.
And at the center of the series stood Chris Perkins.
He hit .500. Reached base half the time. Homered. Tripled. Drove in three. Scored four. Stole a base — and even stole home.
He was not flamboyant. He was relentless.
October often reveals the player most comfortable within himself. For two games, that was Perkins.
So now, with all Wild Card Series concluded by sweep, the stage clears quickly for the Division Series.
San Diego advances to meet the National League powerhouse, the San Francisco Giants — rested, formidable, and waiting.
Elsewhere, the American League Division Series will soon feature the 118-win New York Yankees and the 112-win Cleveland Indians, each beneficiaries of a first-round bye. And in the other National League Division Series, the 93-win St. Louis Cardinals will begin defense of last year's pennant.
The preliminary sorting has been brisk.
Now, the margin narrows.
The stakes elevate.
And the postseason, having dispensed with pleasantries, moves into its more exacting phase.
In October, time can feel elastic.
This year, it has moved with purpose.