|
“Well folks, the champagne was on ice, the parade routes were probably sketched out, and Cleveland was just two outs away from a World Series title. And then… poof! Just like my last marriage, it all fell apart in the ninth.
The Phillies, who’d been hanging around like that uninvited guy at your cookout, suddenly exploded for four runs in the top of the ninth and snatched a 7–4 win right out from under the Tribe’s noses. Series tied, 3–3. Somebody tell Cleveland they still have to win four games, not just ‘almost four.’
Eric Hoelzle, the same guy with an ERA scarier than a blindfolded dart thrower, somehow turned into Cy Young for eight innings—gave up seven hits, four runs, and kept Philly close enough for the miracle collapse. Then, in came closer D. Moran to mop it up and slam the door shut.
The dagger came off the bat of Elijah Worboys, who picked the perfect time to hit his only ball of the night—a three-run bomb in the ninth to flip the game from ‘celebration’ to ‘Cleveland therapy session.’ The poor guy was hitting .293 in the Series but that one swing will go down in Philly lore—assuming anyone’s sober enough to remember it tomorrow.
Cleveland’s offense? Seven hits, a couple homers from Santiago and Phipps, and then… nothing. They went from pounding out clutch hits earlier in the Series to suddenly treating runners in scoring position like toxic waste. And let’s not forget Pat Kresse in left field—two errors that looked like he was auditioning for the circus instead of the World Series.
On the hill, J. Becerra gave Cleveland seven decent innings, but L. Garcia came out of the pen and poured gasoline on the fire. Six hits, three earned runs, and one very large blown save later, he’s now Cleveland’s least favorite Garcia not named Andy.
So now we’ve got what everyone secretly wanted: Game 7. One game, winner-take-all, tomorrow night in Cleveland. The Indians had a champagne cork halfway out, but now it’s back in the fridge. Phillies, meanwhile, are grinning ear to ear—they were two outs from packing for the winter, and instead, they’ll play for it all.
Final again: Phillies 7, Indians 4. And Cleveland fans… I know it hurts. Just remember, there’s always next year. Oh wait, you’ve been saying that since 1901.”
|