National Baseball League

[jg2977]

Mike Francesa:
“Alright, we gotta talk about this. The Giants just stole both games in Busch Stadium! I mean, that’s not supposed to happen! That’s a Cardinal thing! You don’t come into St. Louis and take two straight. You just don’t.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“NO NO NO NO NO! I’m tellin’ you, Mike, this is what happens when you let a team like San Francisco get loose! They’re swinging the bats like they’re in the middle of July, not the middle of October!”
Mike Francesa:
“Mad Dog, calm down. It’s one game. It’s two games. Yes, it’s not ideal, but it’s not the end of the world.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Not the end of the world? Not the end of the world? They scored 14 runs, Mike! FOURTEEN! And it wasn’t even like they did it quietly — it was like they were announcing to the world that the Cardinals pitching staff is a joke!”
Mike Francesa:
“Look, I get it. I get it. The Cardinals gave up 14 runs, they gave up 12. That’s ugly. But the series is not over. It’s still 2-0, sure. But it’s still a best-of-seven. The Cardinals have plenty of baseball left.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Plenty of baseball left? They just got outscored 29 to 21 in two games, Mike! And Bill Valenzuela? That guy is playing like he’s the next Babe Ruth! Three homers in Game 1, two in Game 2, and a go-ahead two-run double in the ninth! That’s not a slump — that’s a declaration!”
Mike Francesa:
“Valenzuela is on fire, I’m not denying that. He’s the story here. But the Cardinals aren’t done. They’ve got a home crowd, they’ve got talent, and the Giants’ pitching… look, the Giants’ pitching has been fine, but they’re not unbeatable.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Fine? Fine? Mike, the Cardinals’ starter goes 3 innings, gives up 7 runs, and then the bullpen comes in and gives up more! This is not just ‘fine pitching,’ this is disaster pitching!”
Mike Francesa:
“Okay, okay. I hear you. But the point is: the Cardinals have to stop letting this get into their heads. They’ve got to take one game in San Francisco, and then the whole narrative changes.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Take one game in San Francisco?! You’re asking them to do the impossible! The Giants are playing with confidence, Mike! They’re not scared. The Cardinals look rattled!”
Mike Francesa:
“Rattled, maybe. But still alive. Still alive. That’s the key.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Alive? They’re in a hole, Mike. A deep hole. And Valenzuela just keeps swinging like the Devil is on his shoulder!”
Mike Francesa:
“Alright, alright. Calm down. It’s only two games. We’ll see what happens at Oracle Park.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Only two games?! Mike, I’m telling you — the Giants just put the Cardinals on notice. This series is not going to be easy. It’s not going to be pretty. And if the Cardinals don’t wake up, this thing is over before it starts!”
Mike Francesa:
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you this: the Cardinals need a response. They need it fast. But let’s not write them off yet.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Don’t write them off? I’m not writing them off — I’m just saying the Giants are on a different level right now!”
Mike Francesa:
“Okay. Fine. We’ll see if that level holds when they get to Oracle Park. But I’m telling you: it’s still a series.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“A series? Yeah, a series where the Giants are already leading 2-0. I’ll take that series any day.”

[jg2977]

Harry Doyle (Cleveland radio, audibly annoyed):
“Well… there it is again. Another day at the ballpark, another Rays batting practice session disguised as a playoff game. The Indians lose Game 2, 11–5, and now they’re heading home down two games to none. And folks, I don’t know how else to put this — the pitching staff just got torched. Absolutely torched.”
(sighs)
“Francisco Hernandez. Remember the name, because Cleveland sure won’t forget it. Two home runs, four trips on base, three runs driven in. Every time the Indians got a little momentum — bang — Hernandez sends it screaming into the seats. That fourth inning? That was the game right there. Solo shot, crowd erupts, and suddenly Tampa Bay never looks back.”
“And don’t let the box score fool you — the Indians hit the ball! Twelve hits! Hollander had a night, Alay had a night, but you leave eleven runners on base, you ground into double plays, and you give up four home runs to one pitcher… well, you’re gonna be packing your bags wondering what just happened.”
(pause)
“This was supposed to be a tight series. Instead, it’s starting to look like Cleveland brought a knife to a cannon fight.”
Colin Cowherd:
“Harry, let me jump in here — because this is exactly what I’ve been talking about all postseason. Cleveland is talented, but Tampa Bay is built for October.”
“Here’s the difference: Tampa Bay doesn’t just hit — they punish mistakes. You miss a location? Home run. You fall behind in the count? Extra bases. Hernandez, Mojica, Abrego — this lineup doesn’t let you off the hook. Cleveland does.”
“And look, Cleveland’s offense is fine. It’s solid. But solid doesn’t win you playoff series when the other team is explosive. Tampa Bay is explosive. Cleveland is methodical. And when things go sideways, Tampa Bay steps on your throat.”
Harry Doyle:
“Well, Colin, I hate to say it, but I can’t argue much with that. Cleveland keeps answering… and Tampa Bay keeps answering louder. Every time the Indians score, the Rays come right back with two or three. That’s demoralizing. That’s playoff baseball cruelty.”
“Now the series shifts to Jacobs Field, and thank goodness for that. Because if Cleveland doesn’t get its pitching straightened out immediately, this thing is gonna be over before the home crowd even has time to get mad.”
Colin Cowherd:
“And here’s the pressure point, Harry: Game 3 is a must-win. You go down 3–0? History says you’re done. No speeches. No vibes. No ‘we’ll figure it out.’ You win Game 3, or you’re watching Tampa Bay book a ticket to the World Series.”
Harry Doyle (dryly):
“Well… I guess that settles it. Indians fans, buckle up. Because this thing has officially gone from ‘series’ to ‘emergency.’”
(pause)
“We’ll see if Cleveland has an answer. Because right now… Tampa Bay has all of them.”

[jg2977]

Mike Francesa:
“Alright, now we got ourselves a series. This is exactly what I was talkin’ about. The Cardinals go on the road, hostile building, down two games to none… and they win 8–4. That’s how you respond.”
Mad Dog Russo (very conflicted Giants fan energy):
“Mike, I hate this. I HATE this. Because the Giants had a chance to put their foot on their neck, and instead they let St. Louis right back in the door. You go up 2–0, you’re at home, and you give up eight runs? Come on!”
Mike Francesa:
“This is playoff baseball. You’re not gonna sweep everybody. St. Louis needed this game, and they got it with their best player stepping up. Mike Jankowski was sensational. Two homers, five RBIs, four hits — that’s a star performance.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Oh he killed ‘em, Mike. He absolutely killed ‘em. Every time the Giants crawled back, Jankowski said, ‘Nope, not tonight.’ That three-run shot in the seventh? That was the knockout punch.”
Mike Francesa:
“And Weitzel gave them what they needed. Seven innings, four runs, kept them in control. Not dominant, but steady. In a spot like that, steady wins.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Steady? I’ll tell you what wasn’t steady — Bachus! He was hittable all afternoon! Twelve hits in six innings! You can’t do that against a team fighting for its season!”
Mike Francesa:
“Fair. But let’s also say this: the Giants didn’t cash in. Valenzuela goes 0-for, Campbell gives you nothing at the top, and you only score four runs at home. That’s not enough.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“And that’s the scary part, Mike. This Giants lineup has been carrying them, and tonight it stalled. Perdomo homers, Fuentes hits, but where’s the big inning? Where’s the avalanche? It never came.”
Mike Francesa:
“Which is why this series is now interesting. It’s 2–1, Cardinals have life, and they’ve got momentum. Tomorrow’s game? Massive. Absolutely massive.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“If St. Louis wins Game 4, Mike, then this whole thing flips. All of a sudden, the Giants are the ones feelin’ the pressure.”
Mike Francesa:
“Exactly. That’s why you don’t overreact after two games — and that’s why you don’t relax when you’re up two games to none.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Ugh… I don’t like this at all. I wanted a walkover. Now it’s a fight.”
Mike Francesa:
“Well, you got your fight. And that’s October baseball.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Yeah… and it’s just gettin’ started.”

[jg2977]

Harry Doyle (measured, content, a little amused):
“Well folks… if you like offense, you got your money’s worth today in Cleveland. Ten innings, nineteen runs, twenty hits by the home team alone — and the Indians finally get themselves back into this League Championship Series.”
Bob Costas:
“It was, in many ways, a throwback postseason game — long, relentless, and unyielding. Cleveland scored in nine of the ten innings, never allowing the Rays to exhale, never allowing Tampa Bay to feel safe despite holding the lead multiple times.”
Harry Doyle:
“And that’s the key, Bob. Tampa Bay hit. They really did. Rod Francia hit three home runs, and yet somehow… it wasn’t enough.”
Bob Costas:
“Because Cleveland answered almost every blow. A run in the first. A run in the second. Again in the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth — and then, finally, the moment that decided the afternoon.”
Harry Doyle:
“Mike Amero… bottom of the tenth… two men on… and he sends everybody home.”
Bob Costas:
“A towering three-run home run off the 21-year-old Basilio Buso, ending a game that had stretched more than three hours in cold rain. Jacobs Field erupted — not just in joy, but in relief.”
Harry Doyle:
“This crowd waited a long time for that one.”
Bob Costas:
“And before that final swing, Cleveland’s offense had been remarkably democratic. Holloway with four hits. Mendez with three. Barrios with three. Lira with three. Amero didn’t even have the loudest line until the last pitch was thrown.”
Harry Doyle:
“They just kept coming, Bob. No big rally early. No knockout punch until the very end. Just… pressure. Constant pressure.”
Bob Costas:
“Pitching became survival. Neither starter escaped unscathed. The bullpens were tested. Tampa Bay used four pitchers, and the last of them simply ran out of margin.”
Harry Doyle:
“And now the series changes tone. Tampa Bay still leads two games to one — but Cleveland finally has proof they can beat this team.”
Bob Costas:
“In October, sometimes that belief is as important as the score.”
Harry Doyle:
“Final from Cleveland: Indians 11, Rays 8 — and suddenly, this series has a pulse.”

[jg2977]

Mike Francesa:
“Alright, let’s just get this out of the way right now. This was not a baseball game — this was a scrimmage. This thing was over before people finished their hot dogs.”
Mad Dog Russo (exasperated, Giants fan joy trying not to explode):
“Mike, this was RIDICULOUS. Twelve–one after three innings. TWENTY-FOUR TO ONE after four! I mean what are we doin’ here?! This is the National League Championship Series, not a spring training split-squad!”
Mike Francesa:
“This was a total mismatch. San Francisco came out angry, locked in, and St. Louis never recovered from the first inning. Six runs right out of the gate, and from that point on, the Cardinals were just… hanging on.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Hanging on?! Mike, they were getting embarrassed! Edgar Perdomo goes four-for-four — a homer, TWO triples, a double, seven RBIs — he hits for the tour of the park! I don’t know what else you want from the guy!”
Mike Francesa:
“And let’s be clear — when it was 12–1, the Giants were still swinging. When it got to 24–1, they shut it down. They stopped pushing the issue. You could see it.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Absolutely! They were takin’ pitches, they weren’t runnin’, they weren’t trying to put up forty! And STILL they end up with twenty-six!”
Mike Francesa:
“Because St. Louis’ pitching was completely unraveled. Six pitchers, nobody could stop the bleeding. And then late in the game, the Cardinals put up ten runs that meant absolutely nothing.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Total stat-padding, Mike! Pure stat-padding! The game was over in the FOURTH inning! That 26-12 final makes it look closer than it was — it wasn’t!”
Mike Francesa:
“This was domination. Period. The Giants scored in five straight innings, twenty-five hits, eight walks — and that’s with them easing off.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“And now it’s 3–1, Mike. ONE WIN AWAY. One win away from going back to the World Series, and they look fresh, they look confident, and they look like they’re enjoying themselves.”
Mike Francesa:
“That’s the biggest thing. They’re loose. They know who they are. Tomorrow, they don’t need fireworks — they just need one solid, professional win.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“Finish it. Don’t let ‘em breathe. End it.”
Mike Francesa:
“Exactly. This series is on the Giants’ terms now.”
Mad Dog Russo:
“And after today, Mike… I don’t see how St. Louis gets up off the mat.”

[jg2977]

Harry Doyle, voice weary, confused, borderline offended by reality itself:
“Well folks… I’m not really sure how to explain what we just witnessed here at Jacobs Field. I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve seen some things. But this… this one’s gonna sit with me awhile.”
“It’s 17–4. Seventeen to four. The Indians are dead. Buried. Fans are looking at their watches, vendors are packing it in, and I’m mentally drafting the obituary.”
“And then—because baseball is a cruel, irrational sport—the Indians decide they’re not done.”
“An eleven-run eighth inning. Eleven. One after another. Hits everywhere. Balls flying. Rays pitchers looking like they accidentally wandered into the wrong stadium. Suddenly it’s 17–15. Then 17–16. Then 17–17.”
“At that point, I don’t even know what inning it is anymore. I’m just staring at the scoreboard like it owes me an explanation.”
“Jacobs Field is shaking. Grown adults are hugging strangers. Matt Holloway is apparently doing everything short of selling popcorn. You erase a thirteen-run deficit in a playoff game and you think—you think—that somehow, some way, the universe is finally on your side.”
“And then… ninth inning.”
“One swing. One triple off the bat of Pablo Parga. Just like that. Rays back on top. 18–17.”
“And that’s it. No miracle ending. No last twist. No poetic justice. Just… silence.”
“So the Indians score seventeen runs. They pull off one of the most ridiculous comebacks you will ever see in October baseball.”
“And they lose.”
“Tampa Bay now leads this series three games to one. One win away from the World Series.”
“And Cleveland? Cleveland is left asking how you can do everything right, climb out of the deepest hole imaginable… and still somehow end up exactly where you started.”
“I wish I had an answer for you.”
“I really do.”

[jg2977]

San Francisco Giants: 1935 National League Champions (4th pennant)
1916 1917 1934 1935

Mike Francesa:
“Alright, let’s slow it down, everybody. Because this wasn’t clean, it wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t some coronation from the first pitch. The Giants gave up four runs in the first inning, okay? Four. At home. In a close-out game. That matters.”
Mad Dog (already fired up):
“Mike, Mike, Mike—STOP IT. Enough already! They were NEVER losing this game! The Cardinals hit ‘em early, big deal! This team does not panic! This is a championship team, Mike! You could FEEL it in the building!”
Mike:
“I’m not saying they panicked. I’m saying they got punched. And what did they do? They responded. That fourth inning? That’s the series right there. You go from 4–1 to 4–4, then suddenly the Cardinals are the ones tightening up.”
Mad Dog:
“TIGHTENING UP?! They were DONE, Mike! DONE! You give this lineup an inch, they take a mile, a bridge, and the whole bay! Fuentes, Dick, Valenzuela—one after another! And Perdomo again, by the way, because of COURSE he shows up!”
Mike:
“Perdomo wins the series MVP, deservedly so. No argument. But this wasn’t just him. This was depth. This was pressure. This was San Francisco doing what good teams do—forcing the other side to make plays.”
Mad Dog:
“And St. Louis couldn’t! They had their shot! They jumped ahead, they had traffic, and they couldn’t land the knockout! Meanwhile the Giants just keep stacking innings—three here, four there, tack one on, tack one on again!”
Mike:
“And then Turner comes in, shuts the door, no drama. That’s important. Because now—now—you’re talking about a team that’s been here before.”
Mad Dog (relishing it):
“SECOND STRAIGHT WORLD SERIES, MIKE! Second! You don’t just stumble into that! That’s four NL pennants in franchise history now! Four! And this time? This time they’re not just happy to be there!”
Mike:
“That’s the key. Last year’s scar tissue matters. You get back this quickly, you understand how hard it is. And now they’ll wait—Tampa Bay or Cleveland—but whoever it is, they’re not facing a team wide-eyed by the moment.”
Mad Dog:
“They’re facing a team that EXPECTS to win it now. The Giants are back. And this time, Mike… they’re not leaving it unfinished.”
Mike:
“Giants to the World Series. Again.”

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

Harry Doyle, on the call…
“Well helloooo again, everybody — this is Harry Doyle, and if you tuned in late, don’t worry… you didn’t miss a game. You missed a crime scene.
The Cleveland Indians, their backs firmly against the brick wall, came out tonight like a team that absolutely refused to clean out their lockers. Final score from Jacobs Field: Indians 17, Rays 4. Seventeen. To four. That’s not ‘stay alive’ — that’s a full-blown baseball exorcism.
Now Tampa Bay actually struck first — couple of long balls in the second inning, and for a brief moment it looked like the Rays were thinking, ‘Let’s wrap this thing up.’
Bad idea. Very bad idea.
Because once Cleveland got going… they never stopped.
Danny Alay — my goodness — three hits, a home run, four runs scored. The man was on base so much he should’ve started paying rent. And Luis Lira? Four for four, a triple, three runs, two driven in — I’ve seen men get less applause after saving children from burning buildings.
By the middle innings, this one was over, folks. Rays pitchers were coming in, going out, looking around like they left the oven on back in Tampa. Cleveland piled on runs in the third… the fourth… the fifth… and by the eighth inning, the scoreboard operator was starting to sweat.
Seventeen hits. Seventeen runs. The Indians turned an elimination game into a party — and Tampa Bay into a cautionary tale.
So the Rays still lead the series, three games to two — but now they gotta go home knowing this:
Cleveland’s not dead.
Cleveland’s angry.
And Cleveland just reminded everyone that momentum can swing faster than a Danny Alay fastball into the seats.
Game Six coming up at Tropicana Field… and folks — if this series has taught us anything — it’s that nothing is over until the final out… and sometimes not even then.
For the Indians, this was survival.
For the Rays? Let’s just say… tomorrow’s a good day to take batting practice early.
This is Harry Doyle saying — don’t go anywhere. Baseball’s still got a few tricks left.” ⚾🎙️

[jg2977]

Harry Doyle, losing his mind a little here…
“Ohhhhhh, folks, hold onto your hats, hold onto your seats, and maybe call your chiropractor, because the Cleveland Indians are not just back in this series — they are throwing a parade right through Tropicana Field!
Down three games to one, staring at a Tampa Bay Rays coronation like it was already engraved on a plaque, and what do the Indians do? They go out and obliterate them. I mean, the last two games? Nineteen to eight, seventeen to four! Seventeen, nineteen! This is a baseball explosion of biblical proportions!
Game Six tonight — Cleveland comes out swinging, and third baseman John Hollander is in the middle of it all. Two home runs, five hits, scoring three times, driving in four! He tied the Indians playoff hits record! I don’t care if you were watching from the nosebleeds or on your radio at home — Hollander made sure you knew Cleveland is not done!
Matt Holloway? Five runs scored. Five! Ties the AL playoff record for runs in a game! Danny Alay, Mike Amero, Luis Lira, Dave Marrero, Kevin Walters… this lineup is like a runaway freight train fueled on adrenaline and beans! They are scoring in the first, the third, the fourth, the fifth… by the time the eighth rolled around, the Rays were waving little white flags nobody saw!
And now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s all tied up. The ALCS is headed to Game Seven tomorrow, and let me tell you, if Cleveland has taught us anything in the last two games, it’s that you cannot count these Indians out, ever, ever, ever!
Tampa Bay came in thinking they’d waltz into the World Series. They leave tonight knowing — Cleveland is angry, Cleveland is hungry, and Cleveland is scary good.
Game Seven, tomorrow. I don’t care if you’re in Cleveland, Tampa, or anywhere in between — do not blink. This is gonna be one for the history books, folks. Harry Doyle, signing off — but barely — because I don’t think my heart can survive another night like this!” ⚾🎙️🔥

[jg2977]

Cleveland Indians: 1935 American League Champions (8th pennant)
1919 1920 1923 1924 1925 1926 1930 1935

Harry Doyle, completely unhinged, soaked in champagne, barely audible over the chaos…
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… I—I don’t even know where to stand in this locker room right now! There are towels flying, there are bats banging against lockers, somebody just sprayed me with something that might be ginger ale or might be shoe polish, and I DON’T CARE BECAUSE THE CLEVELAND INDIANS HAVE DONE THE IMPOSSIBLE!!!
Down three games to one! THREE TO ONE! The top-seeded Tampa Bay Rays were measuring rings! They were polishing trophies! They were booking plane tickets! And Cleveland said — NO SIR, NOT TODAY, NOT IN THIS LIFETIME!
Listen to these numbers because they sound like a typing error!
Game Five: 17 to 4!
Game Six: 19 to 8!
Game Seven: 18 to 4!
That’s not a comeback — that’s a baseball avalanche! That’s the Indians backing a dump truck full of runs right into the Rays’ living room and hitting the gas!
This locker room? Absolute pandemonium! Danny Alay is holding court in the middle like a conquering hero — and why not?! The man is your series MVP! .472 average! Eighteen runs driven in! Thirteen runs scored! I’ve seen fewer fireworks on the Fourth of July!
Kevin Walters just yelled something I can’t repeat on the air while hugging everyone within a five-foot radius! Dave Marrero is dancing on a bench! Somebody’s playing music that hasn’t been invented yet! The floor is sticky, the ceiling is wet, and the Cleveland Indians are AMERICAN LEAGUE CHAMPIONS!
This is Cleveland’s EIGHTH pennant, folks — their first since 1930! Five long years of waiting, hoping, wondering — and now they’re going back to the World Series, chasing World Series title number four!
And it’s official! Mark it down! Circle it! Carve it into stone!
The 1935 World Series is set:
CLEVELAND INDIANS… versus the SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS!
From 3-1 down to total domination! From written off to written into history! If you’re a Rays fan, you’re still trying to figure out what just happened. If you’re Cleveland… you’re going to remember this night forever!
I’m Harry Doyle — I’ve lost my voice, I’ve lost my balance, and I might lose my job for staying on this long — BUT I WOULDN’T MISS THIS FOR THE WORLD! THE INDIANS ARE GOING TO THE WORLD SERIES!!!” 🎙️⚾🔥

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

1935 World Series

The Indians were champions in 1919, 1920 and 1924.
The Giants won in 1916.

This is the first World Series matchup between these clubs.

[jg2977]

Harry Doyle & Mad Dog Russo — World Series Game 1

Harry Doyle (already shouting):
“HELLOOOO AGAIN, EVERYBODY! If you just tuned in, welcome to Jacobs Field — and welcome to a baseball hurricane wearing Cleveland uniforms! World Series Game One goes to the Indians, 16–6, and folks… I am running out of adjectives, oxygen, and possibly sanity!”
Mad Dog Russo (half-laughing, half-panicking):
“Harry, Harry, I gotta tell ya — I came in here feelin’ pretty good about my Giants, okay? I did! But this was a buzzsaw! A BUZZSAW! You can’t spot a team like this seven runs in the third inning — you just can’t do it!”
Doyle:
“And speaking of saws — Matt Holloway just took one to the baseball itself! THREE HOME RUNS! Three! Five hits, seven RBIs! He tied every Cleveland playoff record that exists and might’ve invented a couple new ones while he was at it!”
Russo:
“I mean, Harry, listen — Holloway was unconscious. That third-inning homer? The ball barely came down! Giants pitchers are still looking up at the sky wonderin’ if it landed in Lake Erie!”
Doyle:
“And it wasn’t just Holloway! John Hollander with a huge two-run triple in the second to crack this thing wide open — Amero went deep, Alay went deep, Marrero went deep — this was a fireworks show in October!”
Russo (exasperated):
“The Giants made mistakes, Harry! Errors, bad pitches, hittin’ behind in the count — you do that against this lineup, you’re dead by the fourth inning! Forget the fifth! This thing was over before I finished complainin’!”
Doyle:
“And the crowd knew it! Thirty-six thousand strong, stomping, screaming, losing their minds — this place was shaking like a washing machine full of bricks!”
Russo:
“I’ll give Cleveland credit — and believe me, that’s hard for me — but this team is hot. You don’t just roll over the Giants like this unless you’re locked in, confident, and swingin’ like you know destiny’s on your side.”
Doyle:
“So the Indians take Game One, sixteen to six, behind a performance for the ages from Matt Holloway — Player of the Game, Player of the Month, Player of My Dreams!”
Russo:
“All right, all right — Game Two’s tomorrow. Giants gotta flush this one, come back angry, and pitch like their lives depend on it… because if Holloway gets loose again, Harry, this could get ugly fast.”
Doyle (grinning):
“For now? Cleveland strikes first! Indians lead the World Series one game to none! Don’t go anywhere, folks — October baseball has officially gone off the rails! ⚾🔥

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

Harry Doyle (Indians broadcast, barely keeping it together):
“Wellllllllll… how ‘bout that? If you came to Jacobs Field today hoping for a nice, clean, tightly played World Series game—you picked the wrong day, pal. This thing turned into a full-blown pinball machine by the second inning. Final score: Cleveland 24, San Francisco 14. Yes, you heard me right. Twenty-four. Runs.”
“And once again, if you’re looking for the culprit, the lineup card might as well say ‘Mike Amero and Friends.’ Three home runs. Three. Seven runs batted in. Four times around the bases. I’ve seen batting practice less violent than this.”

Chris “Mad Dog” Russo (Giants fan, completely exasperated):
“HARRY, I MEAN—THIS IS A DISGRACE. A DISGRACE! I don’t care if it’s Game 2, Game 22, or a SUNDAY DOUBLEHEADER IN MAY—YOU CANNOT GIVE UP TWENTY-FOUR RUNS IN A WORLD SERIES GAME. You just can’t!”
“I’m sitting there saying, ‘Okay, we score three in the first, we’re fine!’ Then boom—six runs. Then boom—three more. Then BOOM—SIX AGAIN! I’m running outta fingers, Harry! I’m using toes!”

Doyle:
“Dog, the Giants hit the ball all afternoon. Twenty-one hits! Fourteen runs! Most days that’s a parade down Euclid Avenue.”
“But unfortunately for San Francisco, Cleveland treated Giants pitching like it owed them money. Amero goes deep in the second—thank you, drive through! Goes deep again in the sixth—don’t forget your receipt! Then again in the eighth—come back and see us soon!”

Russo:
“I’M SO SICK OF THIS GUY! Every time he comes up I’m yelling at the radio, ‘Pitch around him! Walk him! Pretend he’s not there!’ And what do they do? FASTBALLS! RIGHT DOWN BROADWAY! You’d think we’re auditioning him for Cooperstown!”
“And don’t get me started on Alay—six hits?! SIX?! I haven’t seen that since batting cages!”

Doyle:
“Danny Alay, Mike Amero, John Hollander—pick your poison. Hollander scores five runs, Amero drives in seven, and the Indians rack up twenty-seven hits. That’s not a box score, that’s a phone book.”
“And this all comes on a day where Cleveland still had to survive giving up fourteen. That’s right—this wasn’t some dainty blowout. This was a bar fight that Cleveland just happened to win by knockout.”

Russo:
“HARRY, THE GIANTS ARE DOWN TWO-ZIP AND THEY’RE FLYING HOME SHELL-SHOCKED. YOU CAN’T SPIN THIS. ‘Oh, we hit well!’ WHO CARES?! YOU LOST BY TEN!”
“Pitching’s a mess, confidence is shot, and now Amero’s probably gonna be hitting balls into McCovey Cove BEFORE HE EVEN GETS THERE!”

Doyle (cheerfully):
“Well Dog, the good news for San Francisco is the series heads west. The bad news? Cleveland’s bats are already packed.”
“Game 3 Sunday at Oracle Park. Indians up 2–0, riding an offense that may need a speed limit posted. For now—this one belongs to Cleveland, and Mike Amero might still be rounding the bases.”
“Just another calm, relaxing afternoon at the old ballpark.” ⚾😄

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

Harry Doyle (Indians broadcast, stunned but trying to stay upbeat):
“Well… you know what, folks? Sometimes baseball just laughs at you. Final in San Francisco: Giants 10, Indians 9. Cleveland had this thing on life support, the plug half-pulled, and then—almost pulled it back from the dead.”
“The Giants jump out early, boom—four in the first, and I’m thinking, ‘Alright, it's early, relax.’ Then Fuentes unloads one into the seats, Perdomo’s slapping hits around, and suddenly it’s 10–3 San Francisco. That’s when I start saying to myself, this is gonna be a long afternoon.”

Chris “Mad Dog” Russo (Giants fan, equal parts relieved and furious):
“HARRY—LISTEN TO ME—THIS GAME NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN CLOSE. NEVER! YOU’RE UP TEN TO THREE AT HOME AND YOU’RE MAKING IT A ONE-RUN GAME IN THE EIGHTH?!”
“I’m pacing. I’m sweating. I’m saying, ‘Just get three outs!’ And what happens? DOUBLES! TRIPLES! WALTERS HITS ONE INTO THE SEATS! I’M SEEING GAME 1 FLASHBACKS ALL OVER AGAIN!”

Doyle:
“That eighth inning… wow. Cleveland sends nine men to the plate, puts up six runs, and suddenly it’s 10–9 and Oracle Park goes quiet. Marrero with the triple, Walters with the homer—Indians had momentum pouring out of their ears.”
“And for a second there, Dog, I thought we were about to steal one we had no business stealing.”

Russo:
“I DID TOO! I’M SAYING, ‘Here we go again!’ That’s the series right there if they lose this game. That’s a sweep waiting to happen.”
“But give me Fuentes. THAT’S A BIG-TIME PLAYER. Three hits, a homer, a double, three ribbies. That first-inning shot? SET THE WHOLE TONE. You don’t win this game without him, period, end of discussion.”

Doyle:
“David Fuentes was the difference. Giants needed a star, and he answered. And hey—credit where it’s due—Jonathan Parker gutted through seven innings even though Cleveland kept punching back.”
“Turner bends in the ninth, gives up a couple hits, but slams the door. Indians get the tying run to second… and that’s where it stays.”

Russo (exhaling):
“AND THAT’S ALL YOU CAN ASK FOR. JUST SURVIVE. This isn’t about style points, Harry. This is about not going down 3-nothing.”
“The Giants are back in the series. It’s 2–1 now. They proved they can hit Cleveland. Now they gotta prove—please, I’m begging—that they can pitch one clean game.”

Doyle (chuckling):
“Well Dog, from the Cleveland side, it’s a frustrating loss… but it’s also a reminder: these teams don’t do boring.”
“Indians still lead the Series 2–1, Game 4 tomorrow right back here in San Francisco. If the first three games are any indication—get comfortable. We’re just getting started.” ⚾🔥

[jg2977]

.

[jg2977]

Harry Doyle (Indians broadcast, measured but uneasy):
“Well… if you thought this thing was headed for a quick conclusion after two games in Cleveland—think again. Final tonight at Oracle Park: Giants 15, Indians 9. And just like that, this World Series is dead even, two games apiece.”
“The Giants have taken Games 3 and 4 at home, and what looked like an Indians runaway has turned into a full-blown street fight.”

Chris “Mad Dog” Russo (Giants fan, vindicated and fired up):
“THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THIS is why you don’t crown anybody after two games, Harry. I heard it all—‘Cleveland’s too deep, Cleveland’s too powerful, Cleveland’s gonna sweep.’ NONSENSE.”
“This was a statement game. Fifteen runs! Nineteen hits! Everybody contributing! This wasn’t luck—this was the Giants punching back.”

Doyle:
“And the biggest punch came from right field. Joey Fields—four for five, five RBIs. Every time Cleveland tried to breathe, Fields was standing there with a bat saying, ‘Nope.’”
“The Giants scored in six different innings, hit for power, hit for doubles, ran the bases aggressively. From an Indians perspective, there was just no stopping the bleeding.”

Russo:
“Fields was OUTSTANDING. That’s a big-league performance in a big spot. And how about the lineup depth? Wagner goes five for five—five for five! You don’t see that in October! Perdomo driving in three, Valenzuela hitting two bombs—this was a full-on avalanche.”
“And yes, they gave up nine runs. I don’t love that. I don’t like it. I don’t want to see it again. BUT—when you score fifteen, I’ll live with it.”

Doyle:
“Cleveland didn’t exactly go quietly. Amero homered again, Mendez and Barrios chipped in, and even in the ninth the Indians were still swinging. But the pitching—especially early—just couldn’t hold.”
“Carlos Hall goes down injured, the bullpen gets stretched thin, and against a locked-in offense like this one, that’s a recipe for trouble.”

Russo (leaning back now):
“And now the whole thing flips. Best-of-three. Clean slate. Momentum? The Giants have it. Confidence? The Giants have it.”
“For everyone who thought Cleveland was gonna walk to a title—you better rethink that. This series is wide open now.”

Doyle (calm, reflective):
“That’s exactly right. What we have now is not a mismatch—it’s a World Series. Two teams trading haymakers, neither willing to go away.”
“Game 5 tomorrow, still here in San Francisco. Winner takes control of the series.”

Russo (with a grin):
“And Harry? After what we’ve seen the last two nights—anybody who says they know how this ends… is lying.”
“This thing’s on.” ⚾🔥