[jg2977]

BOB COSTAS (on the broadcast):
Good evening from Chase Field in Phoenix, Arizona — where the Milwaukee Brewers, on the cusp of history, have taken a commanding three-games-to-one lead in the National League Championship Series. The final score tonight: Milwaukee 8, Arizona 4.
It was a crisp desert evening, the roof was open, and the Brewers — much like the sun setting over Camelback Mountain — burned steadily brighter as the night went on. Colin Humphrey, the center fielder with both grace and grit, went three-for-five, including a majestic two-run homer in the eighth.
KRAMER (bursting through the broadcast booth door):
Bob! Bob! You see that guy Humphrey? He hit that ball so far, it needed a passport!
COSTAS (smiling faintly):
Well, it did carry quite a distance, Cosmo. Humphrey’s home run gave Milwaukee some breathing room… though I don’t believe international travel was required.
KRAMER:
Oh, Bob, come on! That thing was like Sputnik! It was orbiting the stadium! I was out there in the concourse — it hit a churro stand!
COSTAS:
Churros aside, the real story was Milwaukee’s patience. After Arizona jumped to an early 4–0 lead, the Brewers refused to blink. They clawed their way back — single runs in the fourth and the seventh, then Humphrey’s blast in the eighth to tie it. And in the ninth…
KRAMER (leaning over the mic):
Josh Tidwell, baby! Boom! Bases loaded — kaboom! — double to the gap! Clears the bases! You ever see three men run that fast since the Coney Island hot dog contest?
COSTAS:
An… interesting comparison. But yes, Tidwell’s double may well have been the dagger. He was 0-for-3 before that swing, but as the saying goes: it’s not how many hits you get, it’s when you get them.
KRAMER (grinning wildly):
That’s what I told Newman when he tried to eat a whole wheel of brie before the ninth inning!
COSTAS (pressing on):
Meanwhile, on the Arizona side, frustration lingered. Their bullpen faltered, their bats went quiet, and for all their early momentum, the Diamondbacks now find themselves staring at elimination.
KRAMER (sincerely, leaning in):
They looked rattled, Bob. You could see it. The pitcher’s out there — sweat, shaking — he’s got that thousand-yard stare. I call it… the “Whaley Wobble.”
COSTAS:
An evocative term. Perhaps one for the record books, alongside “the Mendoza Line” and “the Bartman Game.”
As we turn to Game 5, Milwaukee stands just one win away from the pennant. A franchise once known for heartbreaks, for near misses and empty Octobers, now finds itself 27 outs from the Fall Classic.
KRAMER (throwing his hands up):
The pennant, Bob! The big dance! You can feel it — it’s electric! I’m tellin’ ya, if the Brewers win tomorrow, I’m getting on the next flight to Milwaukee and diving into a vat of cheese curds!
COSTAS (chuckling, with that trademark poetic cadence):
Some chase champagne. Others chase destiny. Cosmo Kramer, apparently, chases dairy products.
From Phoenix, I’m Bob Costas — with… well, I suppose now, also Cosmo Kramer — saying goodnight. The Brewers win it, 8 to 4, and take a 3–1 series lead.
KRAMER (as the credits roll):
Hey Bob, you think they’ll let me ride the mascot’s ATV around the warning track tomorrow?
COSTAS (deadpan):
Only if you promise not to hit another churro stand.