[jg2977]

Tampa Bay Rays: 5th ALCS berth
1911 1932 1933 1935 1936

Harry Doyle (voice cracking somewhere between disbelief and long-suffering rage):
“Well… hello again, everybody. And welcome… to another Cleveland Indians season that ends the same way it always does — with the other team celebrating and me wonderin’ why I bothered keepin’ score.”
“The Indians came into Tampa Bay tonight knowin’ they had to have it. Instead, what they got… was ten runs hung on ’em, fourteen hits, and a one-way ticket back to Ohio.”
“Final score from the Trop — Rays 10, Indians 6. And just like that, Tampa Bay is headed to the ALCS for the fourth time in five seasons. Cleveland? Clean out the lockers.”
“It actually didn’t start terribly. Indians put up two in the first, even showed some life early. Amero hit one into the seats, Holloway’s doublin’ everything in sight — and for a brief, shining moment, you thought: hey, maybe this time’s different.”
“And then… reality showed up.”
“Niccolai couldn’t get out of the fourth. Three home runs allowed. Seven runs by the time he left. Game score of thirteen — which, for those keepin’ track at home, is not ideal.”
“And every time Cleveland scratched back — Tampa answered. Indians score one? Rays score two. Indians make it interesting? Chris Smith strolls up and starts hittin’ baseballs like he owns the building.”
“Smith finishes the series hittin’ .550, four homers, eight runs batted in. If you’re an Indians fan, you’re seein’ that name in your sleep tonight.”
“The Indians left ten men on base, committed an error, grounded into double plays, and never once felt like they were in control of their own destiny. Which, frankly, has become a familiar theme around here.”
“So Tampa Bay moves on. Cleveland moves on too — on to another winter of ‘what ifs,’ ‘next years,’ and ‘we were close.’”
“As for us… well, there’s always next season. Again.”
“For now, from Tropicana Field, this is Harry Doyle sayin’: same ending, different year. Good night, everybody.”