[jg2977]

Colin Cowherd:
This is why Atlanta is Atlanta. This is why they scare people. You can play well against them—St. Louis did. You can score runs—eight of them. You can hit home runs, you can come into their building loose, confident, thinking you belong. And then, right when the game tilts toward chaos, Atlanta calmly reminds you who’s in charge.
Nine–eight Braves. Series lead, two games to none. And Eddie Quizhpe? That’s a star announcing himself in October. Two home runs, four RBIs, every swing feeling heavier than the last. Big players don’t just show up in big moments—they define them. That’s what happened here.
Bob Costas:
There is a rhythm to postseason baseball in Atlanta, and on Sunday afternoon it unfolded once again. The Cardinals were persistent, resilient, and for long stretches, entirely credible. They did not wilt. They did not make mistakes. They simply encountered a team that understands precisely when the game must be taken—not borrowed, not survived, but seized.
Quizhpe’s home runs did more than change the score. They altered the emotional balance of the afternoon. Each time St. Louis edged ahead, Atlanta responded not with urgency, but with certainty.
Cowherd:
And look—this wasn’t a collapse by St. Louis. That’s important. This wasn’t sloppy baseball. This wasn’t giveaways. This was Atlanta saying, you can play your best, and it still might not be enough. Bobby Nunez’s triple in the eighth? That’s veteran timing. That’s knowing the moment. And then the floodgates open just enough.
That’s what dynasties do. They don’t dominate every inning. They dominate the decisive ones.
Costas:
The Cardinals leave Truist Park having done many things well. Luis Alvarez collected three doubles, tying a postseason record. McLaren and Jankowski supplied power. And yet, they find themselves on the brink of elimination.
Atlanta, meanwhile, continues to look less like a team navigating a playoff series and more like one fulfilling a familiar obligation. Their manager spoke afterward of not tinkering, of continuity, of trust—and that may be the most revealing sentiment of all. This franchise does not chase October moments. It expects them.
Cowherd:
Here’s the larger picture: Atlanta doesn’t beat itself. And if you don’t beat yourself, the opponent eventually blinks. St. Louis hasn’t blinked yet—but they’re running out of time.
Game 3 shifts to Busch Stadium, but the pressure? That’s traveling with the Cardinals. Atlanta knows exactly who it is. And right now, they’re one win away from reminding the league—again—that inevitability isn’t a myth. It’s a pattern.
Costas:
October is often remembered not for the teams that resist longest, but for the ones that prevail with an air of calm authority. On this afternoon in Atlanta, that authority belonged unmistakably to the Braves.