National Baseball League

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“A cool October night here in Denver… the air is crisp, the stands are full, and the season — for one team — is very much on the line.”
With the sun long set behind the Rockies and 51,561 fans bundled up against a light, misting rain, the Edmonton Oilers took the field at Ball Arena knowing exactly what had to be done. Down three games to two in the series, it was win… or go home. And tonight, they played like a team that planned to keep the lights on a little longer.
Shuhei Kunda, the left-hander, was simply marvelous. Seven innings. Four hits. One earned run. A steady heartbeat on a night that demanded it.
“You could almost hear the rain tapping his cap brim between pitches,” Vin would muse. “And all he did was keep making Colorado tap the ball softly.”
The Oilers struck first, and they struck loud. In the top of the first, a leadoff double, a triple into right-center, and before the Avalanche faithful could even settle in, the score was already 3–1. Then came the second inning. A one-out, hanging sinker from Alexis Castaneda… and Adrie Sijtsma sent it soaring into the night. A two-run homer.
“Oh, and you could just tell as soon as he hit it. He didn’t run. He admired. A moment like that, in October… you earn it.”
It was 5–1, and the tone was set.
Colorado, to their credit, never quit. Nathan MacKinnon tripled early and homered in the ninth to keep the Avalanche within shouting distance. And J. Sanchez — what a series he’s having — crushed his eighth home run in the eighth inning, trimming the deficit.
But every time Colorado got close, Edmonton found a way to lean back on its pitching. Romo held the line, Yamamoto — with a touch of drama — sealed it.
“If you’ve ever seen a heart skip a beat, you saw it there with two outs in the ninth,” Vin might say softly as MacKinnon’s drive sailed deep… and died at the track. “And the Oilers’ season lives to see another night.”
A final score of 6–4. Ten hits to seven. One team forcing a Game 7. One team heading north with hope.
Player of the Game: Shuhei Kunda — calm, precise, and brilliant when it mattered most.
Next Stop: Rogers Place. Tuesday night. A winner-take-all Game 7.
*“And as they say,” Vin would smile, pausing just long enough for the crowd noise to swell, “there’s nothing quite like October… when everything comes down to one game.”

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Hartford Whalers: 1st Conference Finals berth
2006

“Good evening, everybody. What a night it was in Hartford, Connecticut… history has been made at the Civic Center.”
On a crisp October night, the Hartford Whalers delivered a performance for the ages — and they did it against the defending Stanley Cup champions. Final score: Hartford 11, Long Island Islanders 1. In Game 7 of the Conference Semifinals, the Whalers didn’t just win — they dominated.
From the opening frame, Hartford took command. A first-inning burst, highlighted by Mike Zuke’s booming double, set the tone. And from there, it was relentless. Three more in the third. Two in the fifth. Three in the sixth. They piled on, inning after inning, never looking back.
And what a night for Zuke. Four hits, including a home run and two doubles, driving in two and scoring twice. It capped off a postseason series where he batted a staggering .656 with 16 RBIs. That’s MVP-caliber, and tonight, he was officially named the series Most Valuable Player.
Gabe Reyes, meanwhile, was lights out on the mound. 8 and 2/3 innings, just one run allowed, eight strikeouts, and he had that look of complete control. No moment too big. No stage too bright. His Game 7 performance was everything a club could hope for from its ace.
Long Island, to their credit, came in battle-tested, but they never found their footing tonight. Their lone run came in the fourth inning. Beyond that, they were overwhelmed by Hartford’s pitching and outslugged by Hartford’s lineup. This was not the same Islanders team that hoisted the Cup a year ago — and Hartford made sure of it.
For the first time in franchise history, the Whalers advance to the Conference Finals. The fans here in Hartford — over 43,000 of them — stayed on their feet to the very last out, savoring every pitch, every swing.
And their reward? A matchup with the New York Rangers, who swept the Montreal Canadiens. A new chapter begins… and if tonight was any indication, Hartford will not be intimidated.
“This is why you play the game. Moments like this. For the Whalers, a night to remember.”
Final: Whalers 11, Islanders 1. Hartford takes the series, four games to three, and moves on to the Conference Finals.

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Edmonton Oilers: 5th Conference Finals berth
1978 1980 1994 1998 2006

“Alright… let’s talk about this, folks. Because what happened last night in Edmonton… that’s the kind of game people in that city are gonna be talkin’ about for a long time.
The Edmonton Oilers—down three games to one in the series—come all the way back. They force a Game 7. They build themselves a comfortable 5–0 lead through seven innings. At that point, you’re thinkin’… alright, they’ve got this. They’re cruisin’. Put the Avalanche to bed, book the flight to the Conference Finals.
And then… it almost became a disaster.
Nathan MacKinnon—who, by the way, is just a flat-out star—steps up in the eighth, two outs, and boom… three-run shot. Suddenly it’s 5–3. You feel the tension start to creep in. Ninth inning, Kali Alisjahbana—guy’s been quiet all series—ties it up with a two-run bomb. Rogers Place goes from a party to a funeral in a matter of minutes. The crowd is stunned.
And listen, Edmonton’s bullpen had a meltdown there. No excuses. They let Colorado right back in this game. You’ve gotta close that out cleaner.
But… champions—or teams with championship DNA—respond. Tenth inning. Rodolfo Cesena, who comes off the bench cold, steps into a pressure cooker… and delivers. A clean single up the middle. Series over. 6–5. Edmonton wins it. Avalanche fans go home gutted.
And you know what? Give Edmonton credit. Down 3–1 in the series, their season’s basically on life support. They scratch and claw their way back. They win Games 5 and 6. They barely survive Game 7, but they did it. And now they’re headed to their fifth Conference Finals in franchise history.
Wayne Gretzky—what else is new?—he gets MVP of the series. Hitting over .560, three homers, nine driven in. You can’t ask for more from your best player. And Adrie Sijtsma—terrific all-around game. Set the tone early.
Now, let’s not sugarcoat this: that bullpen’s a concern. You don’t want to blow a 5–0 lead in an elimination game. That’s not sustainable. You can’t do that against a team like the Chicago Blackhawks in the next round. But… they advanced. And at the end of the day, that’s what matters.
Colorado… tough break. MacKinnon did everything he could. A star performance. But the Oilers had the answer when it counted.
Edmonton wins it 6–5. They take the series 4–3. And folks… that was an instant classic.”

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2006 NHL Conference Finals

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“Alright lemme tell ya somethin’ right now… Madison Square Garden — October 4th, 2006 — Rangers and Whalers, and lemme tell ya… this was one of those games where ya just feel somethin’s brewin’ early. I mean, you got a packed Garden, you got a chilly night, little breeze left to right… and Mike Zuke—this guy, Mike Zuke—he put on a show. Two bombs. Two. I don’t care what anybody says, when a catcher’s droppin’ two home runs in a conference final opener? You tip the cap.
But here’s the thing… the Rangers — they did just enough. That’s the story. Six to five, they edge ‘em. Kosmo Kramer — yeah, you heard me — Kramer with the clutch two-run shot in the seventh. Crowd goes nuts. That’s your ballgame.
Listen, Hartford… they had their chances. Zuke was phenomenal. R. Francis had a couple of dingers early, they jumped out, made Gi-Hun work for every single out. But ya can’t leave guys on base like that. Twelve strikeouts, six guys left on — that’s not winnin’ playoff hockey—uh, baseball—whatever we’re callin’ it tonight.
Gi-Hun, not great, not terrible. Four homers allowed, but ten strikeouts. That’s a classic Garden outing: shaky but somehow hangin’ in. And then the bullpen—Rodriguez and Bunney—closed the door. Bunney made it a little interesting, gave up a couple hits, but in the end? The Rangers survive.
And lemme say this—this series ain’t over. Hartford swings the bats. That lineup is dangerous. But if the Rangers can get just enough from the bottom of the order and keep the bullpen clean, they’re gonna be tough in this building.
Game 2? Tomorrow night. Same place. If Zuke’s goin’ deep again, Hartford’s got a shot. If not? Rangers go up 2–0, and good luck comin’ back from that in this town.
Alright… we’re gonna take a break. When we come back—we’ll talk about how in the world Kosmo Kramer is hittin’ postseason bombs in 2006…”

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“And a beautiful afternoon in Edmonton… clear skies, crisp air, and a packed Rogers Place for Game 1 of the Conference Finals between the Oilers and the Blackhawks.”
“Chicago — scrappy, dangerous, explosive at the top of that lineup. Edmonton — relentless, loaded with power. And tonight, it was the Oilers who landed the heavier punches.”
Hwang In-ho… he was the difference. Two hits, four RBIs, and a no-doubt, two-run homer in the fifth that flipped the game. It felt like the air shifted the moment that ball left his bat. The crowd stood, the flags waved, and the Oilers never looked back.
Chicago did what they could — eight runs, ten hits, and some impressive work from guys like Trevino and Klompus. But Edmonton… twelve runs on fourteen hits. And when you put up crooked numbers like that in October? You win ballgames.
In-ho’s double in the first set the tone. His home run in the fifth broke it open. And then, in the sixth — a triple from Gretzky, a three-run shot from Tognazzi, and the floodgates… wide open.
Perez got chased after 4 and 2/3, and from there it was catch-up for Chicago. Edmonton’s bullpen wasn’t perfect, but they got the outs when they needed them. Takahashi gets the win, Romo locks it down, and the Oilers take Game 1, 12–8.
“This is what the postseason does,” I’d say if I were sitting next to McCarver. “Big names. Big moments. And a crowd in Edmonton that sounded like it could lift the roof.”
And tomorrow? Game 2. Same place. Same two teams. Chicago’s got the bats to answer. But right now, Edmonton’s up 1–0, and Rogers Place is buzzing.
“Final score from Edmonton… Oilers 12, Blackhawks 8. We’ll be back… right after this.”

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Alright… lemme tell ya somethin’ right here, folks. This was not good from the Rangers tonight. You wanna talk about flat? This was flat. This was asleep at the wheel hockey. Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals at the Garden — the building’s packed, it’s loud, it’s playoff hockey… and they give you that?
Hartford 7, Rangers 1. That’s not a typo. That’s a beatdown.
Mike Zuke — Mike Zuke! — goes 3-for-4, two doubles, a homer, four RBIs… he single-handedly outproduced the entire Rangers offense. That’s unacceptable. The Whalers came in with a plan, they executed it, and the Rangers never answered. Zero through seven innings? At home? In a Conference Final? That’s embarrassing.
Godinez gave ‘em six innings, three runs… not great, not terrible. But the bats? Nothing. Just five hits. One run. And that run didn’t even come until the ninth inning when the game was already over. Cuylle hits a solo shot, hooray, balloons fall from the ceiling. Give me a break.
Zuke ripped ‘em early in the first with an RBI double, and honestly, the tone was set right there. Mäntymaa on the mound for Hartford — look, this guy came in with an ERA near nine — and he shoved. Eight and a third, five hits, one run. Rangers couldn’t touch him. Couldn’t square him up. It was batting practice for the Whalers, but for the Rangers? It looked like they were swinging broomsticks.
You can’t go down 1–0 early, sleepwalk through the middle innings, and expect to just flip a switch in the ninth. That’s not how the postseason works. Not against a team that’s been swinging the bats like Hartford.
And now? Series tied 1–1. And it’s going to Hartford. The Rangers had a chance to step on their throat here — go up 2–0, control the series. Instead, they hand it right back.
Listen — the Rangers are still the better team on paper. They’ve got the lineup, they’ve got the arms. But tonight? Hartford punched them right in the mouth, and the Rangers never punched back. If you’re a Rangers fan, that’s the part that should bother you.
They better figure it out fast. Game 3’s Saturday. In Hartford. That building’s gonna be loud, and if they don’t show some life… they’re in trouble.
Bottom line: Mike Zuke owned ‘em. Seven-one final. Rangers embarrassed at home. Series tied. We’ll take some calls…

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EDMONTON — On a night when Ron Hextall authored the kind of individual performance that usually becomes postseason lore, the Chicago Blackhawks still walked off the field staring at the wrong side of the scoreboard.
Three home runs. Thirteen total bases. Five runs batted in. It was a masterpiece — the sort of game that bends narratives and shakes series.
And yet, the Edmonton Oilers didn’t just win. They swallowed Chicago whole.
Fifteen runs. Seventeen hits. The game was loud, long, and tilted entirely Edmonton’s way by the third inning, when Wayne Gretzky’s second home run of the night — a no-doubter that seemed to hang in the air just long enough for 39,010 fans at Rogers Place to scream it out of the park — punctured Chicago’s fragile pitching plan.
The final: Edmonton 15, Chicago 9. The series: 2–0 Oilers. And the warning: this Edmonton lineup isn’t just hot. It’s volcanic.
From the first pitch, the night carried a sense of mayhem. Hextall went deep on the second batter of the game, giving Chicago an early jolt. Edmonton answered immediately. A three-run blast by Gretzky flipped the score and the momentum.
By the time the third inning ended, Edmonton had scored seven runs, chased Chicago starter F. Bautista, and stretched the game into something that felt less like a playoff duel and more like survival. Bautista left with a line that tells the story better than any manager could: two innings, four hits, six runs, two homers, and a deficit Chicago never fully erased.
Edmonton didn’t need perfection from its staff. It just needed enough. Starter S. Kunda was hittable — three homers, seven earned — but the bullpen stacked outs in the middle innings. S. Takahashi earned the win with an inning and a third of clean work. L. Vigil finished the night with quiet efficiency.
The top of Edmonton’s order was relentless. Adrie Sijtsma tripled twice, tying a postseason record. Gretzky’s two home runs plated five. O. Alcala launched two of his own. Eight of Edmonton’s nine starters had at least one hit.
This is the Oilers at their most dangerous: when the contact is crisp, the sequencing sharp, and the stars swing with the inevitability of tide rolling in.
Chicago still has life. The series shifts to the United Center on Sunday. But for the Blackhawks to recover, they’ll need something they didn’t have tonight — a way to quiet an Edmonton lineup that hasn’t been quieted in weeks.
Hextall gave them everything one player could. It wasn’t enough.
“The guys I sent out there today were the wrong ones for the situation,” Blackhawks manager Jon Gonzalez said afterward. “That’s on me.”
On him, maybe. But also on an Edmonton team that looks less like a contender right now and more like a storm.

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Alright… HERE WE GO! — MIKE and the MAD DOG — on a Sunday, talkin’ hockey… well, whatever this was in Hartford last night. Rangers–Whalers, Game 3 of the Conference Finals. And lemme tell ya… folks… DOGGIE… THIS. WAS. UGLY.
MIKE: Chris… Chris… they got smacked. I mean, 8–4 final, but that score doesn’t even tell ya the story. They were outplayed in every single facet of the game. Gianfrancesco Arriola? He’s Babe Ruth right now. Two hits, a bomb, gets on base four times. The guy’s OPS in the postseason is basically the GDP of a small country.
DOG: MIKEY — LISTEN — LISTEN. THIS IS DISGRACEFUL. I DON’T WANNA HEAR ABOUT “OH IT’S JUST ONE GAME.” THEY GAVE THIS ONE AWAY. Fourth inning, two outs, bases loaded, what happens? KEVIN DINEEN. DOUBLE. CLEARS ‘EM. BANG. 5–1 WHALERS. THAT’S THE BALLGAME RIGHT THERE. THEY NEVER RECOVERED.
MIKE: Yup. You can’t walk five guys like Gerson Contreras did, Chris. You just can’t. You spot a team five runs in the fourth on the road in the playoffs? You’re not winning that game.
DOG: CONTRERAS WAS A MESS, MIKE! An absolute mess. He couldn’t find the zone. Five walks in under four innings. He’s lucky it wasn’t worse.
MIKE: And how about the offense? Seven hits all night. Vinnie Ising’s the only guy who showed up — three knocks, a double. Kramer hits the two-run homer late, Cuylle hits the solo shot — but that was window dressing. Garbage time runs. Game was over in the fourth.
DOG: THIS TEAM LOOKED FLAT. FLAT! You’re in a Conference Final, Game 3, tied 1–1, chance to steal back home ice, and that’s the effort? THAT’S the effort?
MIKE: Arriola owns them. He owns them. Seven home runs this postseason. He’s hitting over .560. It’s absurd. You gotta pitch around him.
DOG: AND THEY DIDN’T! They gave him pitches to hit. And what happens? Homer in the sixth. Ballgame.
MIKE: I’ll tell ya this, Chris. If they don’t figure this out tomorrow night in Game 4, this series could be over in five.
DOG: OH, I’LL GO FURTHER. If they don’t win tomorrow, it will be over in five. Hartford’s too hot. The Rangers bullpen’s been inconsistent. Contreras looked rattled. The offense is streaky. And Hartford — MIKE — they’re playing like they believe.
MIKE: 43,000 in the Hartford Civic Center — roof closed, crowd loud — and the Whalers fed off that.
DOG: THEY SMELLED BLOOD. They smelled it. Dineen, Francis, Arriola… it’s like the ‘27 Yankees out there.
MIKE: If you’re Roberto Costa, you better come out with your best arm tomorrow. No more experiments. No more “let’s get him going.” It’s do or die in Game 4.
DOG: NO PRESS CONFERENCE after the game? NO PRESS CONFERENCE?! What is that? “I’ll talk when we win the Cup”? BAHHH!! RIDICULOUS!
MIKE: You face the music. You give your team a spine. You don’t duck out after an 8–4 embarrassment.
DOG: Absolutely. I mean—MIKE—if this team’s got any guts, any guts at all, they come out tomorrow night and punch back. Otherwise? Pack your bags.
MIKE: Hartford leads the series 2–1. Game 4 tomorrow. We’ll be back after the break — more on this debacle from the Rangers, your calls, and maybe… maybe… a little Yankees talk later.
DOG: YUP. 8–4. ARRIOLA. DINEEN. CONTRERAS A NO-SHOW. LET’S GO.
🎙️ “MIKE AND THE MAD DOG” — WFAN.

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Alright… picture dis… you’re sittin’ there, behind da Blackhawks’ dugout, got yourself a couple’a polish sausages, maybe a cold brew, heart full’a hope for da hometown Hawks, right? And den—BOOM—Wayne freakin’ Gretzky shows up, like a one-man wreckin’ crew, and suddenly it’s 8–3, Edmonton.
“Da Hawks… dey got blitzed, Bob.”
“Blitzed, Don. I seen it wit’ my own eyes. Gretzky… two homers… two! You can’t let da Great One do dat. Not in our house. Not at the United Center. You just can’t.”
“Wayne Gretzky was out dere like it was da mid-’80s. Guy’s got 3 hits, 4 RBIs, 2 bombs, stole two bags… he basically ran da joint.”
“Meanwhile, da Hawks are out dere like a bunch of guys who just found out da buffet’s been closed. You get one from Gonzalez, one from Klompus… little solo jobs… cute. But dat ain’t beatin’ Gretzky.”
Top of da fifth—dat’s when it all fell apart. Edmonton down 2-1, runners on second and third. Gretzky steps up. “Whaddya think he’s gonna do, Bob?”
“Bob, he’s Gretzky. He’s gonna launch it to Schaumburg. BOOM. Three-run dinger. You could see da sausage vendors cryin’.”
And once da Oilers took dat lead? Fuhgeddaboudit. Da Hawks were toast. Toast wit’ no butter.
And don’t get me started on da pitching. D. Amaya out dere throwin’ like he’s tossin’ kielbasa at da brat stand. Five innings, four runs, a homer to Gretzky. “He was hittable, Don.”
“Hittable? My Aunt Carol’s knuckleball got more movement.”
Meanwhile, T. Yamamoto for Edmonton, he’s out dere givin’ da Hawks fits. Six innings, only two runs. Crowd’s tryin’ to rally—“Let’s go Hawks!”—but Gretzky’s got no mercy.
Seventh inning? Another Gretzky blast. Guy’s laughin’ runnin’ da bases like he owns da place. By da time Nakamoto comes in, it’s just damage control… which, for da record, didn’t work.
“Da Oilers, Don, dey up 3–0 in da series now. Three–nothing. You know what dat means.”
“Yeah. Da Hawks need a miracle. Not just a ‘win one at home’ miracle. I’m talkin’ Ditka partin’ da Red Sea, Walter Payton comin’ back, Mike Singletary coverin’ center field miracle.”
“Da only thing stoppin’ Gretzky right now is a Polish sausage to da face.”
FINAL:
Oilers 8, Hawks 3
Gretzky — 3 hits, 2 bombs, 4 RBI, 2 steals.
Da Hawks? A couple’a solo shots, a lotta sadness, and maybe some indigestion.
Next game’s tomorrow at da United Center. Bring your rosaries. Bring Ditka. Bring da sausage. You’re gonna need divine intervention.
“Can da Hawks come back, Don?”
“Da Hawks? Against Gretzky? Buddy, da only team dat could beat Gretzky is Gretzky. And maybe Ditka.”
“Da Hawks vs. Gretzky… who wins?”
“Gretzky. By six.”
DA FINAL WORD: Gretzky’s da GOAT. Da Hawks? Dey’re da roast. 🐐🥩

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All right… good evening, everybody. Steve Somers here… on The FAN… 66 W–F–A–N… the schmooze rollin’ well past midnight… and what a night it was up in Hartford, Connecticut… yes, Hartford! — the land of insurance, Whalers nostalgia, and apparently, blown leads.
The Hartford Whalers — remember them? — had this game in hand, leading 6–5 heading into the ninth. The crowd at the Hartford Civic Center, 43,849 of them, already pricing out those Stanley Cup parade routes… maybe calling the insurance guy to protect the banner…
But then… bam! It’s Itsuro Bliebernicht — and that’s a name you don’t just say, you savor it… Bliebernicht… goes yard in the top of the ninth… two-run shot… and just like that, the Rangers are on top, 7–6.
You could feel it. You could feel Hartford tightening up like a clam in January. And they coughed it up. Final score: Rangers 8, Whalers 6. Series tied at two. And somewhere, somewhere, John from Astoria is already on hold to tell me why this is the year.
Mike Zuke — oh, Mikey Zuke — three hits. Triple. Double. Homer. He hits everything but the insurance roof. He scores twice, drives in two, and basically keeps Hartford in it by himself. But baseball—or hockey… or whatever this strange hybrid series is—is cruel.
On the mound, Rey Ruiz for Hartford… comes in… one inning, three runs, boom-boom-boom, good night, good luck. He’s got the blown save, the loss, and probably a long quiet bus ride back to the insurance district.
Meanwhile, the Rangers? They’re not exactly the 1927 Yankees here. But they’ve got that little New York thing going on — late hit, clutch homer, enough bullpen duct tape to get through.
And can we talk about this guy W. Bunney? Gives up two bombs in the eighth, still gets the win. Only in sports… only in New York.
You gotta love it. The Whalers hit three homers. They got the crowd. They got the noise. But the Rangers got the last word.
Series goes back to Madison Square Garden Tuesday night. It’s 2–2. Anything can happen. Maybe Bliebernicht hits another bomb. Maybe Hartford remembers how to close. Maybe I get a full night’s sleep. (Probably not.)
All right, open lines. 718–937–6666… that’s 718–937–6666. Whalers fans, I know you’re out there. Rangers fans, I know you’re out there. We’ll talk about Bliebernicht, we’ll talk about Zuke, we’ll talk about why Ruiz shouldn’t be allowed within 100 yards of the ninth inning again.
This… is Steve Somers… schmoozing you into the night.

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Ahhhhhh yes… dere we were… Da Bears Guys… sittin’ out dere wit’ da Bleacher Creatures at Wrigley, except dis time — it’s not da Cubbies, it’s da Hawks. Da Chicago Blackhawks, baby. Da Oilers in town. Da United Center. Cold night, sausage in one hand, Old Style in da other, and we’re ready for a good ol’ fashioned donnybrook on da diamond—uh, I mean, da ice—uh, whatever, it’s Chicago sports.
“Da Hawks versus da Oilers… DA OILERS,” my buddy Ron says. “If Wayne Gretzky was here tonight, he’d be cryin’ into his Labatt’s.”
Game starts… top of da first… Edmonton goes up 1-0. Crowd groans. But then — JACK KLOMPUS steps up. Jack freakin’ Klompus. Da man’s 37 years old, built like a kielbasa in human form, and he launches a 2-run blast. BOOM. Upper deck. Bleachers go nuts. Sausage mustard everywhere. Da Hawks lead 2-1.
“Klompus. Guy’s a machine,” Bob says. “Guy’s got forearms like Ditka.”
“Yeah,” I say. “If Ditka and da ’85 Bears had a baby, it’d be Klompus.”
And lemme tell ya somethin’ — Edmonton tried. They got guys wit’ names like Funkhouser and Gretzky—yeah, Gretzky—and dey put up 7 runs, sure. But Klompus? He wasn’t havin’ it. He goes yard AGAIN in da eighth. Another solo shot. His second dinger of da night.
Meanwhile Bedard chimes in wit’ a bomb, Hextall doubles, Foligno rips one down da line, and next thing ya know, da Hawks are pourin’ it on like gravy on a beef sandwich. Four runs in da seventh. One in da eighth. Crowd’s singin’ “Chelsea Dagger” before da final out.
“Ey Bob,” I says. “Whaddaya call two Klompus homers in one night?”
“Dat’s what I call a religious experience.”
Pitchin’? Oh we got Suarez out dere shovin’ for six innings. Guy’s not exactly Nolan Ryan, but compared to Edmonton’s Su-Tu, who looked like he was throwin’ meatballs at the Taste of Chicago, it was beautiful.
Even when Edmonton made it close late — couple triples, a dinger by Hernandez — nobody panicked. Why? Cuz this is Chicago. We thrive on heartburn and drama. And sausage.
FINAL SCORE: Blackhawks 9, Oilers 7.
Klompus? 2 bombs, 3 RBI, 3 runs. Guy’s da hero. Da man. Da legend.
Series now? Oilers up 3-1. But lemme tell ya somethin’… if anybody can come back from 3-1, it’s DA HAWKS.
And Klompus.
And Ditka.
And maybe a deep-dish pizza.
Next game’s up in Edmonton. “Can we take it on da road?” Bob says.
I says, “Buddy… Klompus don’t care about geography. Klompus only cares about dingers.”
DA FINAL WORD:
Klompus… da Hawks… DA WIN.
SCORE: 9–7.
Oilers go home sad.
We go home wit’ indigestion.
DA HAWKS… (all together now) …DA HAWKS!!! 🏒🥩🍻

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