National Baseball League

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Who's the Real Favorite in 1937? Cleveland or San Francisco?

FRANCESA:
I don’t understand why this is even a discussion. I really don’t. Cleveland is projected at one-hundred-and-ten wins. One-ten! You don’t just stumble into that. That’s depth, pitching, lineup balance. San Francisco just had a historical year — those teams regress. They always do.
RUSSO:
Ohhhh stop it, Mike. Stop it. This is what you always do — you fall in love with the numbers and forget the reality of what you’re watching. San Francisco just went 125–37, swept the World Series, scored seventy-one runs in four games, and now you’re tellin’ me they’re suddenly vulnerable?!
FRANCESA:
I’m not saying they’re bad. Don’t twist it. I’m saying Cleveland has the cleaner path. The American League is softer at the top. San Francisco’s gotta go through St. Louis again, Miami’s better, Washington’s annoying — Cleveland cruises.
RUSSO:
Cruises?! Cruises where? Anaheim’s still there! Tampa Bay’s still there! And don’t act like Cleveland hasn’t choked before, Mikey. They’ve been the best team and walked away empty-handed. San Francisco doesn’t blink. They just bury you.
FRANCESA:
You’re romanticizing it. Baseball doesn’t care about mystique. It cares about innings, rotations, margins. Cleveland has more room for error. San Francisco has pressure. Every loss is a headline. That stuff wears on teams.
RUSSO:
Pressure?! They eat pressure! They’ve been in three straight World Series already! You think this is when they get nervous? This isn’t a cute run anymore — this is a machine. They don’t play close games, Mike. They don’t let you breathe!
FRANCESA:
And that’s exactly why it ends. History says it ends. Nobody three-peats except the ’21–’23 Mets. Cleveland doesn’t need history — they need four rounds of solid baseball. That’s how championships are actually won.
RUSSO:
History ends until it doesn’t! That’s the laziest argument in sports radio! If history mattered, they wouldn’t have gone back-to-back in the first place! San Francisco isn’t chasing Cleveland — Cleveland’s chasing them.
FRANCESA:
I’ll tell you this: if Cleveland gets to October healthy, I trust them more in a seven-game series right now.
RUSSO:
And I’ll tell you this: until somebody actually knocks the Giants out, I’m not betting against the team that just turned the World Series into batting practice. You wanna be the guy fading the 125-win champs? Be my guest!
FRANCESA (dryly):
We’ll see in October.
RUSSO:
We always do, Mike. And every year, you’re surprised.

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Colin Cowherd – 1937 Preseason Monologue

“Watch the Yankees”
Everybody’s laughing at the Yankees again. Last place last year, last place projections, new manager nobody trusts. I get it. The resume doesn’t pop. Greg Campanelli? Anaheim didn’t win with him. Kansas City was a disaster. Hundred losses last year. If you’re just reading the back of the baseball card, you’re out.
But here’s the thing — fit matters more than history.
I’m hearing the same thing from three different people: the players are buying in. Not politely. Buying in. Campanelli works rooms. He doesn’t bulldoze personalities, but he also doesn’t let talent coast. That’s rare. Especially in New York.
And New York doesn’t need a genius. It needs a grown-up.
This team’s been drifting. Too much waiting around for three-run homers, not enough accountability. Campanelli’s not afraid to bunt. He’s not afraid to hit-and-run. He’s not afraid to tell stars, “You’re not above fundamentals.” And sometimes that’s all a sleeping giant needs — structure.
You know what else I like? Anaheim became a powerhouse after he left. That tells me he didn’t poison the well. He built something. Kansas City? Yeah, ugly. But bad organizations stay bad even when you do things right. That’s not always the manager.
And here’s where I’ll go out on a limb.
Everyone’s penciling in Tampa Bay. Boston’s respectable but capped. The Yankees? They’re supposed to finish last again. That’s the assumption. That’s the blind spot.
Watch out.
I’m not saying World Series. I’m saying relevance. I’m saying competitive games in September. I’m saying this team plays harder than you expect, runs more than you expect, and wins games they “shouldn’t.”
This is my dark horse.
Not to be good.
To surprise you.
And when the Yankees are competent again — even just competent — the league feels it.

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Colin Cowherd – August 5, 1937

“I Was Right… and I Was Wrong”

Okay. I’m gonna start with this — I was right.
And I don’t say that lightly. I say it loudly.
I told you before the season: watch the Yankees. New manager, culture shift, fundamentals, accountability — all the stuff people roll their eyes at. I said playoffs. I said dark horse.
But let me also say this:
I did not see this coming.
Eighty-nine and twenty-seven.
That’s not a surprise team.
That’s a juggernaut.
This isn’t “hanging around.” This isn’t “hot stretch.” This is dominating the American League like it owes them money. Best record in baseball. Nine games clear of Tampa Bay — the same Tampa Bay everyone crowned in March. Cleveland? Anaheim? These were supposed to be the monsters. They still are. But the Yankees are eating them for breakfast.
And here’s what blows my mind: it’s not smoke and mirrors.
They run the bases.
They don’t beat themselves.
They play defense.
They pressure you early.
They pressure you late.
This team is annoying to play — in the best possible way.
Greg Campanelli… listen, I know the resume. Anaheim didn’t win with him. Kansas City was ugly. But this is why I always say context matters. Leadership isn’t universal — it’s situational. And this guy fits New York like a tailored suit.
He didn’t turn them into something flashy.
He turned them into something relentless.
And look around the league — Boston fading, Toronto mediocre, Baltimore stuck, Detroit irrelevant. This division folded. Tampa Bay’s very good! And they’re nine games back!
I said the Yankees would be competitive.
I said they’d matter again.
I did not think we’d be talking about them as the team everyone else is chasing by August.
So yes — I’m taking a victory lap.
But I’m also standing here saying: this is bigger than a prediction.
This is one of those seasons where the sport tilts on its axis.
Because when the Yankees aren’t just good — when they’re this good — everything changes. The postseason changes. The pressure changes. The conversation changes.
And if you’re Cleveland… if you’re Anaheim… if you’re San Francisco looking ahead to October?
You’re not circling anyone else.
You’re circling New York.

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1937 AL Standings

Mike Francesa
“Alright, let’s get real here. The Yankees? One-twenty-three wins? Are you kidding me? That’s a new American League record. I mean, historically, that is monumental. Greg Campanelli, the manager nobody believed in, turned this team into a juggernaut. They’re not just good — they are dominant. Tampa Bay with 112 wins, Cleveland with 117, Anaheim 116 — these are all powerhouse teams, and yet New York finishes ahead of all of them.
This is what makes baseball incredible. Nobody saw this coming. Nobody. And yet it happened. The Yankees get the #1 seed. First-round bye. They’re locked in for October. This is a team playing the kind of baseball that separates legends from pretenders. Minnesota, Detroit, Oakland — get them out of the league, honestly. Total non-factors. And Boston? 78-84, out of the playoffs again. A team on the rise that has fallen back. It’s brutal for fans, but that’s the reality.”

Chris “Mad Dog” Russo
“Ohhhh, you can’t even write this! I told you the Yankees were a real deal! I mean, 123 wins! I’m screaming right now. I’ve been a fan, I’ve been screaming for months, and look at this — the league finally has to acknowledge it. Tampa Bay, Cleveland, Anaheim — great teams, sure, but they all had to play catch-up to this New York team. Catch-up! That’s insane. I don’t care what Francesa says — this is dominance. You cannot ignore it.
And can we just talk about Campanelli? The guy they laughed at in Anaheim, Kansas City? He’s the architect of a record-setting juggernaut. This is exactly what happens when the right leader meets the right clubhouse. They grind, they execute, they play smart, they play aggressive. And now? Wild Card matchups, first-round byes — the Yankees are sitting on the throne. I’m telling you, this is one of those seasons we’re gonna be talking about for decades. This is a dynasty in the making, folks!”

Bob Costas – 1937 AL Wild Card Summary
“As we turn our attention to the American League Wild Card matchups, we see a fascinating set of storylines unfolding.
First, the Texas Rangers (87–75) travel to face the Tampa Bay Rays (112–50) — a rematch of last year’s playoff encounter. Tampa Bay, of course, enters as one of the elite teams in the league, having won 112 games, won the AL Pennant last season but ran into a legendary SF Giants team in the World Series, and firmly established themselves as a powerhouse. Texas, meanwhile, represents the scrappy underdog, a team that found consistency late in the season and earned the right to punch above its weight. History tells us that matchups like this are rarely close, yet the Rangers will look to exploit any moment of Tampa Bay overconfidence.

On the other side of the bracket, we have the Kansas City Royals (80–82) visiting the Anaheim Angels (116–46). Anaheim’s 116 wins put them in elite company — the West’s finest. Kansas City, barely above .500, faces a daunting challenge. But as history reminds us, postseason baseball is often less about regular-season dominance and more about timing, momentum, and the occasional breakout performance. Any team that makes it to October carries hope, and Kansas City will rely on that hope, along with tactical ingenuity, to compete against the Angels’ overwhelming firepower.
Taken together, these Wild Card games set the stage for the American League playoffs. Tampa Bay and Anaheim are the favorites, no question, yet Texas and Kansas City arrive with nothing to lose, everything to prove, and the kind of unpredictability that defines October baseball. It promises to be a thrilling, high-stakes opening round. These are also Campanelli's former teams, and the Royals sneak into the playoffs the year after he left.”

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1937 NL Standings

Bob Costas – 1937 NL Standings & Wild Card Summary

“As we close out the National League regular season, a few stories immediately stand out.

First, the Miami Marlins have quietly emerged as one of the most surprising stories of the year, winning 97 games to capture the NL East. Miami’s consistent play and balance across pitching and hitting allowed them to outperform expectations. The New York Mets, despite an 83-win season and notable improvements, once again fall short of the postseason.

Meanwhile, Washington, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Pittsburgh, and Arizona struggled, with the Diamondbacks’ 56-win campaign confirming that the days of their championship teams are firmly in the rearview mirror.

In the Central, the St. Louis Cardinals have matched their win total from last season, finishing 109–53 and claiming the #1 seed in the National League. A model of consistency and sustained excellence, St. Louis is again poised for a deep playoff run. The Cincinnati Reds, at 86–76, earned the Wild Card spot but will face a formidable challenge on the road.

Out West, the San Francisco Giants experienced a slight regression from last year’s historic 125-win season, finishing 107–55. Still, this is a team that any contender fears — capable of high-octane offense, dominant pitching, and experience in the postseason. The Padres, returning to the playoffs for the first time since 1930 with a 96–66 record, provide an interesting twist to the Wild Card matchups. The Colorado Rockies, at 92 wins, round out the playoff field and are eager to make noise.

The Wild Card matchups are particularly compelling:

Colorado Rockies (92–70) at San Diego Padres (96–66)
San Diego returns to October for the first time in seven years, and they’ll enjoy the home-field advantage. But Colorado, despite the underdog label, is battle-tested and capable of an upset.

Cincinnati Reds (86–76) at Miami Marlins (97–65)
Miami, having outperformed expectations all season, will host Cincinnati with confidence. Yet as always in October, momentum and timely performances can level the playing field.

In sum, the National League playoffs this year are a blend of expected excellence and potential surprises. St. Louis and San Francisco enjoy first-round byes, giving them rest and strategic advantages. Meanwhile, Miami and San Diego — along with Colorado and Cincinnati — offer a reminder that in postseason baseball, the Wild Card round often shapes the storylines for October.

The stage is set: veterans versus emerging contenders, powerhouses versus hungry challengers, and the usual unpredictability that defines Major League Baseball at its finest.”

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J. Peterman – Game Recap: Reds at Marlins, 09/28/1937
Ah, Miami. The sun hanging low over LoanDepot Park, warm enough to remind you of beaches you’ll never quite touch, clear skies, a slight wind from the right — 13 miles per hour, enough to flirt with a baseball’s path, but not enough to dictate it. It was here, in this ephemeral theater of baseball, that the Cincinnati Reds and Miami Marlins performed a brief symphony of human ambition.
The Reds arrived like travelers with heavy suitcases, carrying 86 wins, modest hopes, and dreams of upsetting the local giants. And yet, they were met by Antonio Sanchez. Two home runs, four RBI, two runs scored — a shortstop from Cúcuta, Colombia, whose swing seemed choreographed by the sun itself. In the bottom of the sixth, with Miami trailing 4-3, Sanchez hit a three-run homer that seemed less like a play and more like inevitability.
The Reds tried. P. Joseph stole a base. D. Kendrick tripled. E. Irrizarry hit for power and speed, a two-out RBI adding tension to a narrative only partially written. But the Marlins had a rhythm, a heartbeat. J. King, J. Hodge, and A. Coronado — pitchers in a delicate ballet — kept the Reds off balance, turning potential into memories, one inning at a time.
In the end, it was 8-5, Miami. The crowd, 52,254 strong, exhaled in relief, awe, and wonder. Cincinnati left the field not defeated, but humbled, touched by something larger than a scoreboard. And for those who watched closely, who felt the day in their veins, this was a reminder that baseball is never just a game. It is narrative, drama, and fleeting beauty stitched together with leather and wood.
Tomorrow promises another chapter, another opportunity for heroes to emerge, for underdogs to falter, for the story to bend in unexpected ways. But today belonged to Antonio Sanchez, and in that, Miami, in the glow of a September sun, briefly became eternal.

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Michael Scott – Rockies at Padres, 09/28/1937
“Okay everyone, listen up, because this is HUGE. Huge. Like… Scranton branch huge. The San Diego Padres… they just beat the Colorado Rockies 10 to 6 in Game 1 of the Wild Card Series. And guess who the hero is? Jared Qualls. That’s right. Qualls. 3-for-4, a home run, a triple, 3 runs scored, 2 RBIs. He basically did what I do every day: take charge, make people notice, and look really, really good doing it.
And then there’s Ben Callender. I mean, come on. With runners on 2nd and 3rd, one out, he smacks a three-run homer. That’s clutch. That’s also… kinda like if I were on the field and hit a home run. Only, you know, way better than me.
Colorado? Nice effort. They scored six runs. They tried. They had singles, doubles, stolen bases… but you know what? Padres just said, ‘Nope.’ Like Dwight says to Jim, ‘Nope, not today.’ And that’s basically the game in a nutshell. Padres are the Dwight Schrute of the Wild Card: strong, relentless, and slightly terrifying.
Attendance was 34,695. That’s a lot of people. And weather? Clear, 72 degrees, wind blowing out to right at 8 mph. Perfect baseball weather. I mean, honestly, if the sun were any brighter, it would have been reflecting off my smile watching this game.
So Game 1? Padres win. Rockies? They’ll try again tomorrow. But let me tell you… if the Padres keep playing like this, it’s World Series or bust, baby. And that’s what she said.”

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Michael Kay:
“This was one of those games where you say afterward, that’s why we watch.
The Tampa Bay Rays take Game 1 of the Wild Card Series, beating the Texas Rangers 9–8, and they do it in the most dramatic way possible — a walk-off home run in the bottom of the ninth.
Let’s start with the tone-setter early. Texas comes out aggressive, Victor Yanez homers in the first inning, but Tampa Bay answers immediately. Mark McDonald triples to lead off the bottom of the first, and then Eric Crismond launches a two-run home run. Just like that, the Rays say: we’re not blinking.
And Crismond was everywhere in this game. Two hits, a homer, three RBIs, a walk, a stolen base — he was the engine. Any time Tampa needed momentum, he was in the middle of it.
But Texas would not go away. They kept punching back. Big hits from Anderson, Munoz, Payton — this game had lead changes, momentum swings, and constant pressure. By the seventh inning, Texas had built an 8–4 lead, and you’re thinking, okay, maybe they’ve finally got enough.
Not so fast.
Rod Francia hits a two-run homer in the bottom of the seventh. Then in the eighth, Mark McDonald — again — delivers a clutch two-run double to tie the game at eight. Tropicana Field is rocking, the game completely resets, and now it’s just about nerve.
Texas gets traffic in the ninth and can’t cash in. And when you do that on the road in October, you’re playing with fire.
Bottom of the ninth. Francisco Hernandez steps in. He had one hit all day — didn’t matter. One swing, a towering shot to right-center, 464 feet, and… see ya. Ballgame over.
The Rays win it 9–8, take a 1–0 lead in the series, and send a very clear message: you may beat us for seven innings, but you’re going to have to finish the job. Texas didn’t — and Tampa Bay made them pay.
That’s playoff baseball. That’s drama. And that’s a brutal way to lose Game 1.”

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Colin Cowherd:
“Let me say this slowly… because baseball people don’t like hearing it.
The best team doesn’t always win.
And last night? That wasn’t a fluke — that was October.
Major League Baseball. Wild Card Game 1.
An 80-win Kansas City Royals team walks into Anaheim — into a building owned all year by a 116-win Angels juggernaut — and steals it. 7–6.
And everyone’s shocked. I’m not.
Because this is what happens when your entire identity is built on power and perfection… and suddenly the game gets messy.
Anaheim hit four home runs. Juan Garcia alone hit two. They were loud. They were impressive. They were very regular season.
But Kansas City? Kansas City hit zero home runs in the final five innings — and still won the game.
Why?
Because October doesn’t reward style points.
It rewards pressure tolerance.
Look at the eighth inning. This is the game.
Anaheim leads 6–4. Angel Stadium buzzing. Season hanging in the balance. And suddenly — triples, errors, balls in play, chaos. Kansas City scores three runs without a single homer.
That’s not talent. That’s nerve.
Kevin Walters — a catcher nobody in America tuned in to see — delivers the go-ahead RBI. Juan Garcia is the Player of the Game, sure… but the moment belongs to the Royals’ lineup refusing to die.
And then the ninth.
Anaheim gets a gift — an error to put the tying run on — and immediately rolls into a 4-6-3 double play. Season symbolism in one play.
Here’s the uncomfortable truth for Angels fans:
This team was too clean. Too perfect. Too dependent on the long ball. When the game turned ugly, they didn’t have a second language.
Kansas City speaks ugly fluently.
And now the pressure flips.
The 116-win superteam is staring at elimination.
The 80-win underdog is playing with house money.
I’ve said this for years — baseball is the most honest sport in America. It doesn’t care about your win total. It cares about how you respond when things stop going your way.
Last night?
Anaheim blinked.
Kansas City didn’t.
That’s October.”

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Colin Cowherd:
“Alright… if you watched this game and thought ‘that was chaotic’ — congratulations. You just watched playoff baseball revealing character.
Cincinnati 14.
Miami 9.
And let me tell you something uncomfortable for Marlins fans — this wasn’t a fluke, this was exposure.
Miami won 97 games. Great story. Fun summer. Everybody smiling.
But October? October is a bar fight. And last night, Cincinnati brought a chair.
Let’s start with the headline: Mauro Polidori.
A catcher. A position built on durability, not glamour. And what does he do?
Two home runs. Six RBIs. Including a grand slam that turned a tense game into a problem.
That sixth inning? That’s the series right there.
Miami had momentum. Crowd loud. Season alive.
Then Polidori goes boom — and suddenly the Marlins’ bullpen looks like it’s asking for directions.
And this is why I never fully bought Miami as a deep October team.
They score runs — sure. They’re athletic. They’re exciting.
But defensively? Pitching-wise? Too many leaks.
Look at the pitching line.
Cardenas gives up six. Harabedian faces three batters, gives up three runs.
Stripling? Five earned in under two innings.
That’s not bad luck. That’s not having answers.
Meanwhile, Cincinnati?
Their starters struggled too — let’s not pretend this was a masterpiece — but here’s the difference:
When things got ugly, they steadied the game.
John Wismer comes in, settles it down, gives them innings, absorbs pressure. That matters.
October doesn’t ask for perfection. It asks, who can stop the bleeding?
And here’s the sneaky part nobody’s talking about:
Cincinnati didn’t just homer. They worked counts. Nine walks. Stolen bases. Doubles. Pressure everywhere.
Paul Joseph gets the go-ahead RBI in the seventh — not glamorous, not viral — just winning baseball.
Now it’s 1–1. Winner take all.
And the pressure? It’s squarely on Miami.
Because when you’re the division winner, at home, with expectations — and you just gave up 14 runs — the mirror gets loud.
Cincinnati?
They’re loose. They’ve already won.
Game 3 is simple:
If Miami doesn’t get length from their starter and clean defense, they’re done.
Because the Reds just proved they can survive chaos.
And in October?
That’s usually the team that moves on.”

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“So I watched Rockies–Padres, and folks… this wasn’t a game. This was a statement.”
Colorado walks into San Diego and hangs TWENTY RUNS on a Padres team that waited 7 years to get back to the playoffs. That’s not bad luck. That’s not ‘one rough inning.’ That’s a total organizational faceplant.
Let’s start here:
If you’re San Diego, you finally get October baseball again… and your pitching staff turns into a Home Run Derby pitching machine. Four errors, hanging breaking balls, bullpen gasoline—this thing was over by the fifth inning.
And that fifth inning?
George Setton. Grand slam. Ballgame. Series reset.
That’s a grown-man swing. That’s “I don’t care about your crowd, your weather, or your history” baseball.
Now, Rodrigo Santillan—THIS is what Cowherd loves.
Doesn’t just hit. Controls the game.
Homer
Double
Three walks
Four runs
Four RBIs
That’s not hot. That’s dominant. That’s a player saying, “You don’t have a matchup for me.”
And look at the Rockies lineup top to bottom—Sullivan, Tinoco, Ramirez—this wasn’t one guy. This was waves. Colorado scores in six different innings, including five in the ninth just to twist the knife. That’s disrespectful. I respect it.
Now let’s talk Padres—because somebody has to be honest.
This team is built on momentum and emotion… and when it cracks, it SHATTERS. You make four errors, you can’t throw strikes, and suddenly that crowd gets quiet real fast. Playoff nerves? Maybe. But champions don’t unravel like this.
Here’s the takeaway—and this is important:
👉 San Diego waited nearly a decade to get back. Colorado plays like they expect to be here.
That’s the difference.
Game 3 tomorrow? Pressure is ALL on the Padres.
The Rockies already did their job. They punched first, punched last, and reminded everyone: Wild Card teams with offense are dangerous.
And if you’re San Diego?
You better hope this was a blip…
Because if it’s not, this comeback tour ends real quick.

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Joe Buck:
Welcome back to Tropicana Field. If you like offense, drama, and a little bit of chaos, this one had all of it. The Tampa Bay Rays walk it off, 12–11, over the Texas Rangers to sweep the Wild Card Series and move on.
Tim McCarver:
Joe, this game felt like it changed personalities every inning. Texas kept landing punches, Tampa kept answering. And in the end, it came down to the man who defined the series — Rod Francia.
Joe Buck:
Let’s start at the finish. Bottom of the ninth, Rays down a run. Francia steps in against Ryan Nichols… and sends a solo home run into right. Tie game. Tropicana Field explodes.
Tim McCarver:
That’s a hitter who knows the moment. Francia wasn’t trying to do too much — he got a pitch he could handle and didn’t miss it. That was his third home run of the series, and it completely flipped the pressure.
Joe Buck:
And Tampa wasn’t done. Francisco Hernandez draws the walk, Johnny Nava drops down a perfect bunt, and suddenly Texas is scrambling. A fielder’s choice moves the tying run to third…
Tim McCarver:
…and then William Gama does exactly what you’re taught as a hitter — short, compact swing, line drive through the infield. Ballgame. Rays win it, 12–11.
Joe Buck:
Earlier, this looked like it might be Texas’ night. They scored four runs in the fifth, then rallied again in the eighth with three more to retake the lead, 11–10.
Tim McCarver:
But Joe, the Rangers never could put Tampa away. And when you let a lineup like this hang around — especially one that runs the bases well and puts the ball in play — you’re asking for trouble.
Joe Buck:
Francia finishes the game 3-for-5, three runs scored, three driven in, including the tying homer in the ninth. He’s your Wild Card Series MVP, hitting .500 with power and patience.
Tim McCarver:
And don’t overlook Tampa Bay’s resilience. They didn’t pitch particularly cleanly, they made a few mistakes defensively, but they stayed aggressive. They kept forcing Texas to make decisions — and Texas blinked.
Joe Buck:
So the Rays sweep the series and now move on to face the New York Yankees in the Division Series. That matchup coming up next.
Tim McCarver:
If this series is any indication, Joe, Tampa Bay is dangerous — because they don’t panic, and they don’t stop playing offense.
Joe Buck:
Final from St. Petersburg: Rays 12, Rangers 11. Tampa Bay survives, advances, and sends a message to the rest of the American League.

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Joe Buck:
Welcome back. A decisive Game 3 in the National League Wild Card Series, and it was all Cincinnati this afternoon in Miami. The Reds come into LoanDepot Park and stun the Marlins, 13–4, to take the series two games to one and move on to the Division Series.
Tim McCarver:
Joe, this game was decided almost as soon as it started. That nine-run second inning by Cincinnati completely took the air out of the building. Base hits, extra-base hits, a couple of mistakes — it snowballed fast on Miami.
Joe Buck:
It started with Matt Croke’s double, then Ross Sikes launched a two-run homer, and from there it just kept coming. By the time Miami got the bullpen up, the Reds had sent 14 men to the plate and built a 9–0 lead.
Tim McCarver:
And when you give a lineup that confident that kind of cushion, it changes everything. Cincinnati hitters weren’t chasing — they were selective, aggressive in good counts, and they punished mistakes.
Joe Buck:
Ross Sikes was sensational. Two home runs, five RBIs, ten total bases — he’s your Player of the Game. Every time Miami tried to settle things down, Sikes had an answer.
Tim McCarver:
But Joe, the heartbeat of this series was behind the plate. Mauro Polidori — the Wild Card Series MVP. He goes 3-for-4 today with two doubles, finishes the series hitting .636, six RBIs, four runs scored. That’s elite postseason catching.
Joe Buck:
On the mound, Jim Russell gave Cincinnati exactly what they needed. Seven and two-thirds innings, seven strikeouts. He wasn’t overpowering, but he kept Miami from ever believing they were back in it.
Tim McCarver:
That’s pitching with a lead. He trusted his defense, worked ahead in the count, and didn’t give the Marlins any big innings — just solo moments here and there.
Joe Buck:
Miami had hopes of riding home-field advantage and momentum, but today they ran into a Reds club that came in fearless — and left victorious.
Tim McCarver:
And now, Joe, Cincinnati earns the right to face San Francisco in the Division Series. That’s a tough matchup, but the way the Reds are swinging it right now, they’re not going to feel intimidated by anyone.
Joe Buck:
Final from Miami: Reds 13, Marlins 4. Cincinnati with the upset, the celebration on the field, and a ticket punched to the next round.

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Alright, let’s talk about this.
Anaheim 11. Kansas City 10. And if you’re the Angels, this is exactly who you are — talented, volatile, slightly reckless… and absolutely built for October.
Let me start here: Kansas City’s Chris Bish was unconscious. Four hits. Two bombs. Twelve total bases. Four runs. If you just box-score scout it, you think the Royals win by three. That’s a star performance. That’s “put me on the back page” stuff.
And they still lost.
That’s not bad luck. That’s a roster issue.
Because Anaheim? Anaheim doesn’t panic. They counterpunch.
Royals jump out 2–0 in the first. Anaheim answers with a three-run bottom half. Boom. David Antillon — two-run shot. Ricky Abrego — solo homer. It’s like trading haymakers in the first round of a heavyweight fight.
Then the second inning happens.
Resendez walking. Stealing. Stealing again. Guzman double. Billy Horn triple. Antillon double. It’s chaos. It’s speed. It’s pressure. Anaheim plays like a team that makes you uncomfortable defensively. That’s not an accident.
By the end of three innings? It’s 10–4.
And here’s the difference between good teams and dangerous teams: good teams build leads. Dangerous teams keep attacking.
Billy Horn homers. Antillon drives in three. Resendez triples twice. Amano — who literally says “I was born for the big stage” — delivers the go-ahead run in the seventh. That’s not subtle. That’s main-character energy.
Now defensively? Two errors. Sloppy at times. That’s the risk with Anaheim. They can look messy. But they also have layers. Dirlam wasn’t great. Philippon bends but doesn’t completely snap. And when it got tight in the ninth — because of course it did — David Smith shuts the door.
That’s postseason poise.
Meanwhile Kansas City? One walk the entire game. One. In a playoff game where both pitching staffs were leaking runs. That tells me they were swinging to match Anaheim’s fireworks instead of controlling the tempo. That’s young-team behavior.
Here’s my takeaway:
Anaheim at home in an elimination setting is not a math problem. It’s emotional gravity. They run. They pressure. They hit extra-base shots. They steal bags like it’s a track meet. Billy Horn swipes three. Resendez is flying. Abrego’s aggressive.
It feels overwhelming.
And that’s the point.
Series tied 1–1. Winner take all tomorrow. If you’re Kansas City, you just got Chris Bish’s absolute masterpiece… and you didn’t cash it in.
That’s psychologically draining.
Anaheim? They just reminded everybody why 116-win teams are terrifying.
Game 3 is now about composure.
And if this turns into another track meet?
I’m taking the Angels.

[jg2977]

Mike Francesa:
Alright, lemme tell ya somethin’. This game had absolutely no pitching. None. Zero. You score 24 runs in an elimination game? That’s a beer league softball score. But give Colorado credit — they went on the road, hostile park, Padres hadn’t been in the playoffs since 1930 — seven years, — and they survived it. That’s not easy.
San Diego scores eight runs in the second inning. Eight! You’re at PETCO, you blow the roof off the place, it’s 8–3, the crowd’s goin’ nuts, and you still lose the game. That’s on the bullpen. That’s on the pitching. Period.
Mad Dog Russo:
Mike, Mike, Mike — hold on! This game was a circus! It was bananas! It was WILD! The Padres got nine hits in one inning! Qualls is flyin’ around the bases, Callender’s hittin’ rockets, doubles everywhere — it looked like batting practice! I’m sittin’ there sayin’, “San Diego’s goin’ to St. Louis! Book it!”
And then — BOOM! Colorado just keeps comin’! They never blinked!
Francesa:
They didn’t blink because they can slug. Santillan? Three walks, homer, double. Setton homers. Williams hits one 430 feet. Then Santillan goes 462 in the sixth! That ball’s still flyin’. You can’t pitch middle-middle in an elimination game!
Russo:
And Tinoco! The MVP! Two triples! Two! In a Game 3! The kid hit .583 in the series! He was everywhere! Scorin’, drivin’ guys in, runnin’ like a maniac! That’s October baseball, Mikey!
Francesa:
I’ll give you that. Tinoco changed the game. Sixth inning, they’re down 11–6. Padres just hit that two-run homer in the fifth — they’ve got momentum again. Then Colorado hits three home runs in the sixth. Three! In one inning! You can’t recover from that psychologically.
Russo:
Cardenas melts! Meza melts! The Padres’ bullpen was gasoline on a bonfire! You CANNOT give up back-to-back-to-back bombs in a winner-take-all game!
Francesa:
And here’s the other thing — situationally? Colorado executed. Sac flies. Bunts. They stole bases. They weren’t just swinging from their heels. That seventh inning — Tinoco triples, Rivas hits the two-run homer — that’s the knockout punch.
Russo:
But Mikey, how about San Diego in the ninth? They get the double! They get the walk! Tying run at the plate! Crowd’s going crazy! And Hundley grounds into the double play! 5-4-3! Season over!
Francesa:
That’s postseason baseball. One pitch, one swing, one ground ball — you’re done.
Look, San Diego had a great year. Ninety-six wins. First playoff trip in seven seasons. That’s real progress. But they didn’t have the arms to close it.
Russo:
And now Colorado’s gotta go to St. Louis! One hundred and nine wins! The number one seed! You think this kinda pitching works against the Cardinals?!
Francesa:
No. If they pitch like this in St. Louis, they’ll be home in three games. But I’ll say this — Colorado can hit with anybody. If they get even average starting pitching, they’re dangerous.
Russo (laughing):
Dangerous?! They just survived an 8-run inning and still won! They’re nuts! They’re absolutely nuts!
Francesa:
They’re alive. That’s what they are. And in October, that’s all that matters.

[jg2977]

Alright, I’m going to say something that makes a lot of you uncomfortable.
This is why we play the games.
116 wins.
Best run differential in baseball.
Track team speed.
Home park.
Star power everywhere.
And they just got knocked out by an 80–82 team.
Let me take a victory lap — because I’ve been telling you for months the postseason is about volatility, not résumé. But even I didn’t see this coming.
Kansas City walks into Anaheim and scores eight runs in the first two innings. Eight. On the road. In a winner-take-all. Raul Manzo hits a leadoff homer. Chris Bish goes yard. Then the second inning turns into a track meet — triples, stolen bases, Taylor swiping bags, Engel going 421 feet.
It’s 8–0 before some fans find their seats.
And here’s the key: Kansas City never blinked when Anaheim punched back.
Because Anaheim did punch back. Amano — two more bombs. Johnston goes deep. They drop five in the sixth. It’s 11–8 and the building is shaking. That’s the moment lesser teams melt.
Kansas City didn’t.
Chris Taylor — the series MVP — four hits again. Two doubles, a homer, three RBIs. .533 in the series. Calm. Surgical. Adult in the room. They add insurance in the seventh. They add insurance in the eighth. They add insurance in the ninth.
That’s not lucky. That’s composed.
Now let’s talk about Anaheim for a second.
You win 116 games and your pitching staff gives up 14 runs in a Game 3 at home. Monzon can’t get out of the second. Sciarra pours gasoline on it. You allowed 17 hits and walked nobody. Nobody. That means Kansas City was ambushing you. Sitting on fastballs. Comfortable.
And here’s the uncomfortable truth about super teams: when they’re used to being ahead, adversity feels louder. Anaheim played from behind almost the entire game. That’s foreign territory for them.
Meanwhile, Kansas City? They’ve been grinding .500 baseball all year. Close games. One-run losses. Scrappy roster. They’re built for chaos.
The 80–82 team looked freer than the 116-win juggernaut.
Now they get Cleveland — 117 wins, rested, elite pitching. On paper? It’s a mismatch.
But here’s the thing: once you survive a Game 3 like this, once you punch out a giant in their own park, you stop caring about the record next to the logo.
Anaheim was the better team for six months.
Kansas City was the better team when it mattered.
And that — whether you like it or not — is October.

[jg2977]

NL Top Seeds

[jg2977]

Alright, here’s what I love about October.
We spend all week building narratives — “Colorado’s hot,” “St. Louis is rested,” “Rockies mash,” “Cardinals are disciplined.” And then Game 1 shows up and says: You thought this was going to be normal baseball? That’s adorable.
Colorado jumps out 5–0. On the road. In Busch. Against a 109-win machine. Santillan hits a two-run bomb in the first, Setton follows him. They’re ambushing fastballs. It’s loud early. It feels like carryover from the Wild Card chaos.
And this is where I want to pause.
Last postseason? Mike Jankowski struggled. Pressed. Expanded the zone. Looked tight. You could feel the weight on him.
Tonight? Completely different guy.
Down 6–0 in the fourth, he hits a three-run inside-the-park homer. That’s not just a swing — that’s urgency. That’s flipping momentum. That’s saying, “We’re not letting this get out of hand.”
Then in the fifth, when Colorado’s starter is wobbling, what does St. Louis do? They go adult mode. Double. Triple. Triple. Jankowski again — clutch single. Four-run inning. They take the lead.
That’s culture. That’s not panic. That’s 109 wins talking.
And here’s the bigger takeaway: Colorado can hit. We knew that. Sixteen hits. Eleven runs. Santillan goes deep again. Reyes homers. Williams triples twice. This lineup is explosive.
But St. Louis is relentless.
They tied it at 7. Took the lead. Gave it up. Took it back. And then in the eighth — and this is the part contenders do — they slammed the door with authority.
Four straight home runs. Four. Cork. Cruz. Smith. Dominguez. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. That’s not just winning. That’s psychological warfare.
Then Eckert triples. Montes hits a two-run homer. Seven-run inning. Game over.
And Jankowski? Two hits. Two walks. Four RBIs. Stolen base. Active. Loose. Engaged. That’s growth. That’s a guy who learned from last October.
Here’s my takeaway:
Colorado is dangerous. They can score with anybody. They are not intimidated.
But St. Louis has layers. They can slug. They can situationally hit. They can survive early punches. And when the moment gets big? They don’t speed up.
Game 1 goes to the Cardinals, 18–11 — which is absurd — but the message is simple:
The Rockies brought fireworks.
The Cardinals brought depth.
And if Jankowski plays like this? This series might not be as long as Colorado hopes.