[jg2977]

COLIN COWHERD:
So let me say this upfront: if you’re watching baseball in 1934 and you think an 11–2 lead means anything anymore, you’re not paying attention. This league is an offensive carnival. Balls are flying. Pitching depth is thin. And games don’t end—they just pause.
San Francisco jumps out 11–2 after three innings and you think, “Alright, next game.” Nope. Milwaukee storms back with seven unanswered runs and suddenly it’s white-knuckle time. That’s modern playoff baseball—even in this era. Leads are fragile. Composure is currency.
But here’s the separator: when the game got chaotic, the Giants didn’t panic. They absorbed the punch, steadied themselves, and then reasserted control. That’s a championship trait.
CHRIS “MAD DOG” RUSSO:
COLIN—COLIN—STOP RIGHT THERE. I’m losin’ my mind watchin’ this thing! You’re down ELEVEN TO TWO, alright? ELEVEN TO TWO! You’re supposed to be dead, buried, send flowers to the family! And the Brewers come roarin’ back like it’s a Sunday doubleheader in July!
They made it a GAME! They made the ballpark shake! And then—AND THEN—they just… let it go again! You cannot give up FOUR MORE in the eighth like that! You can’t! Not in October!
COWHERD:
And that’s the difference between contenders and almosts. Milwaukee showed heart. They showed fight. But San Francisco showed closure. When momentum wobbled, Jesus Satiago steps in and reminds everyone who he is.
Thirty-nine years old. Three home runs. Five RBIs. This wasn’t nostalgia—this was authority. In a league obsessed with youth and velocity, the old guy just owned the night.
RUSSO:
THREE HOMERS! THREE! I don’t care if you’re 19 or 49—that’s LEGEND stuff! And every one of ‘em felt like a gut punch to Milwaukee. Every time the Brewers thought, “Okay, we’re back,” BOOM—Satiago again!
And don’t sleep on Tyler Adams either! First inning—BANG—three-run shot, tone set! That matters! You can’t just look at the final and say “Giants offense.” It was timely, Colin. TIMELY!
COWHERD:
Exactly. Milwaukee piled up hits—twenty-one of them—but San Francisco’s damage came in clusters. That’s how series swing. And now here’s the big picture: Giants up 2–1, one win away from the NLCS, and they’ve already survived the Brewers’ best emotional counterpunch.
If you’re Milwaukee, you emptied the tank and still lost. If you’re San Francisco, you learned you can win ugly.
RUSSO:
And lemme tell ya somethin’—that’s TERRIFYIN’ for the rest of the league. Because if the Giants can score sixteen, give up eleven, sit through a rain delay, watch the other team come back from the dead—and STILL walk outta there in control?
That’s not luck. That’s a team that knows who it is.
COWHERD:
One more win, and San Francisco’s back in the NLCS. And if this league is about offense, experience, and nerve—then the Giants just checked all three boxes in one insane afternoon.