[jg2977]

COLIN COWHERD:
Okay, stop the sweep talk. Stop the coronation. Arizona just reminded Atlanta — and everyone else — that October doesn’t do inevitability.
This is what desperation looks like. Backed into a corner, season on life support, and Arizona doesn’t blink. They don’t play tight, they play angry. And it starts with Ricky Hernandez — veteran, big moment, no fear. Two home runs, four RBIs, and every one of them felt like a rebuttal to the idea this series was over.
Here’s the thing about Atlanta: they’re powerful, they’re deep, they’re scary — but they are also human. You get a lead, you don’t finish it, and suddenly the other dugout believes again. Hernandez goes deep early, then again in the fifth, and now the Braves are thinking instead of swinging.
And then comes the swing of the night — Jose Chapa in the seventh. Boom. Two-run homer, Chase Field explodes, Arizona grabs the lead, and for the first time all series Atlanta looks… uncomfortable.
Let’s be clear: Arizona didn’t win pretty. They didn’t dominate. They survived. The bullpen wobbled, the lead was fragile, but they made the plays they had to make. That’s playoff muscle memory.
Now zoom out. Is Arizona suddenly winning this series? Probably not. Atlanta is still up 3–1 and loaded. But momentum in October isn’t logical — it’s emotional. And tonight, Arizona took Atlanta’s sense of inevitability and cracked it just enough.
Because once you lose the sweep, the math changes.
Once you lose the sweep, pressure creeps back in.
And once you lose the sweep, the team with nothing to lose becomes dangerous.
Arizona didn’t save the series tonight.
They saved tomorrow.