National Baseball League

[jg2977]

October 17, 2002 – Stanley Cup Finals, Game 2
Written by Andrew Neiman (yes, that Andrew Neiman)

Twenty-two runs.

Twenty-two perfectly timed strikes on a drum that used to be Dallas. If Fletcher were here, he wouldn’t scream. He’d smile. Because this—this—was tempo. Control. Discipline. And rage. All of it, unleashed from the Rangers in the most brutal, methodical way I’ve ever seen.

Look, I’ve bled on cymbals trying to prove I was good enough. But what New York did tonight? That wasn’t trying. That wasn’t hoping. That was proving.

Barton Sattler didn’t just have a good game. He played like someone who was told he’d never make first chair. Two home runs. Four hits. Six RBIs. He was possessed. Like he had something to prove to someone who doubted him long ago. And he was loud. Every crack of the bat echoed like a snare being torn open.

But it wasn’t just Sattler.

Itsuro Bliebernicht hit a 3-run homer in the first. His hands? Calm. Eyes? Deadlocked. He went 3-for-5 with four RBIs and four runs scored. His swing wasn’t showy. It was precise. The kind of swing you only get after you’ve been told you’re never going to be great. The kind that comes from proving them wrong over, and over again.

And then there was Mark Grubin, stepping in with 3 hits and 3 RBIs like it was a warm-up session. Kramer, Cuylle, Escandon, even Rice—they were all locked in. Like they were hearing a click track the Stars didn’t even know was playing.

Dallas?

Dallas was off the beat. Again. Just like yesterday. They had a spurt—four runs in the 3rd, three more in the 4th. R. Grubin hit two solo shots. Jabiri added one of his own. But it wasn’t conviction. It wasn’t discipline. It was noise. It was rushing. You don’t win when you rush. You just break down.

And then came the fifth. And the eighth. New York didn’t just answer. They erased. Ten runs between those two frames. They could have stopped. But they didn’t. Because the best don’t stop. The best keep pushing. Until the blood runs. Until the sticks splinter. Until the crowd doesn’t know whether to cheer or cry.

I’ve played in front of half-empty rooms. I’ve been told I’ll never be great. I’ve cracked my knuckles raw to chase down a moment like this—a moment where the music is exactly right. Where every hit lands like it’s meant to. Where the pain fades and all that’s left is performance.

Tonight, the Rangers hit that moment.

And the Stars?

They were the kid crying behind the kit while everyone else packed up.

Game 3’s in Dallas. They better find their tempo fast.

Because New York isn’t slowing down.

Not for anyone.

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

“You Are What Your Record Says You Are”
By Bill Parcells (if I coached hockey and wrote game recaps)
October 19, 2002 – Stanley Cup Finals, Game 3
New York Rangers 23, Dallas Stars 7

Now listen, fellas—football, hockey, tiddlywinks, I don’t care what the sport is. When you get punched in the mouth three straight games, that’s not bad luck. That’s not injuries. That’s not "we just need to play our game." That’s who you are.

And right now? The Dallas Stars are a beaten hockey team.

You give up 23 runs on 23 hits in a Stanley Cup Final game? You didn’t come to play. That’s a lack of preparation, a lack of pride, and let’s be honest—some of those guys out there looked like they’d never even heard of defensive responsibility.

Now let’s talk about the Rangers. You don’t score 61 runs in three games by accident. That’s execution. That’s focus. That’s everyone doing their job. I always told my guys: if you want to eat the cheese, you better be ready to set the trap. The Rangers? They set the trap, took the cheese, and made a damn charcuterie board out of the Stars tonight.

You want a name? I’ll give you one: Avery Grubin.

Three home runs. Seven RBIs. Scored four times. The man is out there playing like the game owes him money. You hang a pitch, he’ll put it in the parking lot. You pitch around him? He’ll wait, then make you pay next at-bat. That grand slam in the first? That’s a tone-setter. That’s the equivalent of telling your opponent, “We’re not just here to win. We’re here to embarrass you.”

And let’s not forget the rest of them. Mark Grubin? Four hits, couple doubles, home run. Cuylle drew four walks—tied a playoff record. That’s discipline. That’s knowing the strike zone. Bliebernicht drove in six. Sattler? He didn’t even need to take his jersey off—he just keeps hitting and jogging.

I’ve coached championship teams. And I can tell you this: when everyone on the team contributes, when every guy knows his role and executes it with precision—that’s how dynasties are built.

The Rangers are up 3-0. They’re not hoping to win this series—they’ve already decided they’re going to. They’ve got the Stars reeling. The body language on that Dallas bench in the eighth and ninth? That's a team just trying to get out of the building without more damage.

I used to say, “Don't tell me about the pain. Show me the baby.” Well tonight, the Rangers showed us the baby, the crib, and the nursery. They played like professionals. They played like champions. And if Dallas wants to salvage any dignity, Game 4 better be about more than just playing out the string.

Because right now? The Rangers don’t just smell blood—they’re carving the Stars up and cooking dinner.

Game 4 tomorrow night. We’ll find out if Dallas has any pulse left.

If not?

Start engraving the Cup.

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

New York Rangers: 10th Stanley Cup Championship
1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1991 1992 1995 1998 2002

"It’s a Power Play Goal—and a Power Play Parade!"
By Sam Rosen
October 20, 2002 – American Airlines Center, Dallas
Rangers 12, Stars 6 | Rangers win series 4–0

Ladies and gentlemen... this... one... will last... a lifetime!

The New York Rangers are Stanley Cup Champions once again! With a dazzling 12–6 victory over the Dallas Stars, they completed the sweep, took the series 4–0, and hoisted hockey’s holy grail high above their heads in the heart of Texas!

And oh, baby—what a performance! From top to bottom, this was a team win. Grit, skill, execution. When it mattered most, the Rangers rose to the moment like champions do.

Let's take you back to the action...

In front of a sold-out crowd at American Airlines Center, the Stars struck first—three runs in the opening frame, including a two-run blast from B. Grubin that had the Dallas faithful roaring. But New York didn’t flinch. They didn’t panic. Because this team? They’ve got answers. And those answers come in the form of Will Cuylle, Mark Grubin, Barton Sattler—and a deep, relentless lineup.

After being held scoreless through three, the Rangers erupted in the middle innings. Sattler got them on the board with a two-run shot in the 4th, and from there it was a five-run fifth, a homer from Cuylle, and then—boom!—a solo blast by Mark Grubin in the sixth. Just like that, the Rangers took control and never looked back.

And how about Cuylle? Three hits, three RBIs, four total bases, and a walk. He’s the guy you want at the plate with the season on the line. And he delivered—he is your Player of the Game.

You want clutch? Bliebernicht had a double and a triple. Rice and E. Grubin with timely knocks. A. Grubin stole a base and kept the pressure on. Every line—first, second, third—chipped in.

And defensively? Rock solid. No errors. Two double plays. The Rangers played like they’d been there before—and they had. This is their tenth Stanley Cup title, and the first of the new millennium. Their last? That unforgettable run in 1998. But this one... it feels different.

Why? Because this club went 147–15 in the regular season. They dominated. They had a target on their backs every single night. And when the playoffs came, they didn’t waver. They turned it up. They played like champions.

Now the Cup is headed back to New York City, and Broadway will be buzzing. Expect the Canyon of Heroes to be jammed wall-to-wall with fans in blue. Expect confetti. Laughter. Fireworks. Maybe a few tears.

And maybe, just maybe... one more “Let’s go Rangers!” chant that echoes from Penn Station to the Garden rafters.

On behalf of the entire broadcast crew... congratulations to the 2002 New York Rangers. You’ve climbed the mountain. You’ve earned it. You are champions.

And ohhhhhh, baby... was that something special.

[jg2977]

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[jg2977]

🎉 "Come on down, you're the next winner of the Great Glove Award!" 🎉

Hello friends, Bob Barker here, reminding you to help control the puck population—have your defensemen spayed or neutered.

Now let's talk defense—and I’m not talking about blocking the Showcase Showdown with your shopping cart. I’m talking web gems, leather flashes, and gold-glove grabs that bring the crowd to its feet!

These gentlemen didn’t win a new car, but they did win something just as prized in the Eastern Conference... a Great Glove Award! What does it take? Soft hands, quick feet, guts, glory—and yes, the occasional dive into the photographers' pit!

So, without further ado, let’s meet this year's All-Defense Team—each one a showcase of style, precision, and dazzling defensive drama!

🎯 Pitcher – Carlos Guzman, Columbus Blue Jackets
This southpaw fields his position like he's playing hot potato with dynamite. Picks off runners, gloves comebackers, and never flinches. Carlos, the mound is yours!

🎙️ Catcher – Kenny Bania, Boston Bruins
He’s gold, Jerry—GOLD! With hands like bear traps and a pop time that could beat a cheetah to second base, Kenny shut down the run game and lit up the locker room.

🏆 First Baseman – Jorge Baca, Florida Panthers
Stretching like a yogi, scooping like a DQ worker in July, Jorge turned would-be errors into outs—and made it look easy.

💪 Second Baseman – Tim Whatley, Washington Capitals
A dentist by name, but a glove magician by trade. Range for days, turns double plays smoother than a Plinko chip down the center slot.

🧱 Third Baseman – Jim Brenton, Long Island Islanders
They don’t call it the hot corner for nothing—and Jim handled it with all the cool of a seasoned Barker's Beauties assistant. Quick hands, quicker reactions!

🕴️ Shortstop – Jack Klompus, New Jersey Devils
With reflexes sharper than a Showcase contestant’s bid, Jack took away more hits than the IRS in April. From backhand stabs to leaping throws—he did it all.

🚀 Left Field – Lance Clark, Long Island Islanders
He patrolled the line like a hawk on patrol. Diving grabs, over-the-wall robberies, and fearless hustle made Lance a nightly highlight reel.

🧭 Center Field – Baha Duqaq, Tampa Bay Lightning
If a ball went up, Baha came down with it. Covers more ground than the Big Wheel, and makes catches you have to see to believe!

🎯 Right Field – Sean Couturier, Philadelphia Flyers
Cannon for an arm, GPS for tracking liners, and a glove that swallowed fly balls whole—Sean brought the heat every night on defense.

And there you have it, folks! This elite nine gave us thrills, chills, and the sweet, sweet sound of leather popping against cowhide.

Remember, in this game—just like on our show—you don’t always need the flashiest gear to win. Sometimes, all it takes is heart, hustle, and the will to make a play.

Until next time, folks—stay safe, stay sharp, and always round down on your Showcase bid! 💰⚾

This is Bob Barker, signing off.

[jg2977]

"The price is wrong, hitters!" 😎🏒

Hi there. Happy Gilmore here. You know, I’ve laid out my fair share of goons on the ice—and even punched an alligator once—but today we’re talking about defensive dominance, baby. The kind of plays that make pitchers weep tears of joy and baserunners question all their life choices.

Because in the Western Conference, these nine fielders didn't just bring gloves to the field… they brought magic wands.

Yeah, you can try to "hit 'em where they ain't"—but guess what? These guys are everywhere. Like Shooter McGavin’s ego, but actually useful.

So here they are, the 2002 Great Glove Award winners in the West—where they don't just stop runs, they crush souls.

🔥 Pitcher – Chang-yong Cheung, Seattle Kraken
This guy fields bunts like he’s chasing his golf ball down a hill. Lightning off the mound. One-hopper? No problem. Line drive at his face? He’ll catch it and wink.

🎯 Catcher – Adrian Martinez, Vancouver Canucks
Nobody ran on Adrian. Not even once. I saw a guy try to steal second and he just laughed—then threw him out by ten feet. He’s got a cannon and the accuracy of a putting machine dialed to "nasty."

🧱 First Baseman – Matt Kosek, Arizona Coyotes
He scoops everything. Grounders, line drives, hot dogs from the third row. Stretching farther than my grandma's old yoga band. A true brick wall in a mitt.

💪 Second Baseman – David Puddy, Utah Mammoth
Yeah, that's right. Puddy. The guy’s cooler than the other side of the pillow and slicker than a Zamboni. Turns double plays like it’s just business.

🎩 Third Baseman – Nazem Kadri, Calgary Flames
The hot corner? More like the Kadri Corner. Reflexes like a cat on espresso and a glove that might be magnetic. Don’t hit it there unless you enjoy disappointment.

🕶️ Shortstop – Solo Ball, San Jose Sharks
Solo? More like So-what-you-got? Covers more ground than me sprinting from security at a mini-golf course. Glove of gold, arm of steel, swagger for days.

💨 Left Fielder – Yun Wang, Winnipeg Jets
The dude runs like he’s got rocket skates on. Leaps like Jordan, lands like Spider-Man. And that arm? Hit a cutoff man once from the parking lot.

⚡ Center Fielder – Mila Grubin, Calgary Flames
She’s a human highlight reel. If there’s a wall, she’s climbing it. If there’s a gap, she’s closing it. If there’s a ball in the air, it’s hers. No debates.

🚀 Right Fielder – Raul Ugalde, Vancouver Canucks
Straight-up hose. Throwing guys out at third, home, the dugout—whatever. Plus, he’s got that sneaky speed that makes you think, "Hey, that’s gonna drop in." Nope. He’s already standing there with the glove.

So there you have it—the 2002 Western Conference All-Defensive squad, where hits go to die. These legends don’t get all the glory like your big-time home run hitters, but trust me—they save games like I save grandmas from Bob Barker’s fists.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go slapshot a baseball through a car window and call it a trick shot.

Happy out! 🏌️*♂️💥

[jg2977]

Shooter McGavin here... and folks, the bullpen just found its new closer with swagger.

Let’s give a smug little golf clap for Armando Galleyos, your 2002 Eastern Conference Reliever of the Year. At just 26 years old, this kid strutted into the big leagues and said, “I’m the guy now.” And then he proved it, night after night.

That’s right—34 saves, 58 relief appearances, and 64 strikeouts in 63 innings with a 7-4 record and a 3.43 ERA? Sounds like someone who can not only throw smoke but handle the pressure. You know, like me in the final round of the Tour Championship... before a certain someone brought a hockey stick to the fairway.

But I digress.

This wasn’t some fluke or charity vote—21 first-place votes out of 36? That’s called dominance. That’s called respect. That’s called Shooter-style performance.

Let’s break it down:
Player Team 1st Place Votes Total Points
Armando Galleyos Boston Bruins 21 150
Brad Corkum Florida Panthers 15 119
Yoriyuki Watanabe New Jersey Devils 0 24
Jose Jacomino Long Island Islanders 0 17
Nestor Martinez Tampa Bay Lightning 0 14
Nice effort from Corkum—he gave it the old college try. But second place? That's just the first loser. And Watanabe? Not even a sympathy vote. Ouch. Hate to see it.

But Galleyos? Galleyos is money. This guy doesn’t just come in and protect leads—he slams the door shut, locks it, and throws the key into the Charles River.

Boston's got themselves a closer with ice in his veins and fire in his fastball. Reminds me of someone… oh yeah—that’s right: me, when I’m sinking a 20-foot putt with the whole country club watching.

So congrats, Galleyos. You’re on top now. Just remember—winning is like breathing for legends… and Shooter’s always watching.

Now get out there and save another one, kid.

Shooter… out. 🎯🔥

[jg2977]

GREG GUMBEL REPORTING...

Good evening, everyone. In a year filled with dominant arms and dramatic finishes, one name stood out from the bullpen more than the rest. Leon Sanchez, the 32-year-old closer for the Dallas Stars, turned in a season that was as cool under pressure as it was effective in the box score.

In 2002, Sanchez delivered in the biggest moments. He posted a 2.11 ERA across 47 innings, racking up 33 saves in 49 appearances. He struck out 47 batters, walked 20, and held a 2-3 record—but wins and losses can be deceiving for a reliever. What matters most? Trust. Consistency. Poise. And Sanchez checked all those boxes.

And now? He has the hardware to prove it. Leon Sanchez is your 2002 Western Conference Reliever of the Year.

The award, voted on by a panel of media and league officials, wasn't particularly close. Sanchez secured 28 of the 36 available first-place votes, finishing well ahead of Winnipeg’s Myeong-han Moon, who earned 7 first-place tallies, and Charles Krueger of the Blackhawks, who picked up 1.

Let’s take a look at the final voting results:

Player Team 1st Place Votes Total Points
Leon Sanchez Dallas Stars 28 164
Myeong-han Moon Winnipeg Jets 7 91
Charles Krueger Chicago Blackhawks 1 59
Willie Alvarez Utah Mammoth 0 8
Alfredo Garduno Chicago Blackhawks 0 2
Asked what this award meant to him, Sanchez kept it simple:

"It’s something I can tell my grandchildren someday... pretty special."
It’s a fitting conclusion to a remarkable season for one of the most reliable arms in the league—and a reminder that age, experience, and composure still matter in the ninth inning.

From the American Airlines Center in Dallas, I’m Greg Gumbel—stay with us.

[jg2977]

Hey! It's Kenny Bania! And you know what this is?
This is GOLD, Jerry! GOLD!

We are talkin’ about the 2002 Eastern Conference Platinum Stick Award winners, baby! These guys didn’t just hit — they mashed, they raked, they destroyed baseballs like they were trying to impress Elaine on a first date! I mean, these numbers are insane! These aren't your run-of-the-mill, grab-a-bagel-and-a-coffee stats. These are filet mignon stats!

Let’s go down the list — you ready? Here it comes!

🥇 Catcher – Postal Worker Newman (Montreal Canadiens)
.414/.493/1.011, 85 HR, 206 runs, 14.8 WAR
Newman! I always knew he had it in him. The man crushes junk mail and junk pitches!

🥇 First Baseman – Boone Jenner (Columbus Blue Jackets)
.519/.637/1.332, 99 HR, 216 RBI, 19.6 WAR
Boone Jenner? More like BOOM Jenner! That slugging percentage? That’s not a stat — that’s a power surge!

🥇 Second Baseman – Adrie Sijtsma (Long Island Islanders)
.469/.542/1.170, 291 RBI, 240 runs
This guy wasn’t just on fire — he WAS fire! Like a flamethrower in cleats!

🥇 Third Baseman – Itsuro Bliebernicht (New York Rangers)
.529/.667/1.383, 125 HR, 332 RBI, 25.4 WAR
You see those numbers? That’s not a slash line, that’s a nuclear launch code!

🥇 Shortstop – Warming Bernabel (Long Island Islanders)
.501/.627/1.252, 98 HR, 75 SB, 22.7 WAR
Warming? Warming?! The guy was melting the bases! The only thing hotter is soup — and I know soup!

🥇 Left Fielder – Lance Clark (Long Island Islanders)
.324/.359/.598, 47 HR, 3.7 WAR
Underrated, but consistent. Like a solid bowl of minestrone — not flashy, but gets the job done.

🥇 Center Fielder – Will Cuylle (New York Rangers)
.549/.654/1.396, 123 HR, 358 RBI, 27.0 WAR
This guy’s a video game glitch! A living cheat code! He's like Newman in a buffet line — unstoppable!

🥇 Right Fielder – Sean Couturier (Philadelphia Flyers)
.527/.633/1.433, 113 HR, 23.6 WAR
That’s not hitting — that’s supernatural interference! This guy must’ve made a deal with Costanza’s accountant!

🥇 Designated Hitter – Vinny Hixson (Long Island Islanders)
.369/.392/.761, 73 HR, 195 RBI, 8.9 WAR
DH? More like Destroyer of Hopes! Vinny doesn’t swing a bat, he swings a sledgehammer!

Folks, this isn’t just a lineup — this is the greatest episode of “The Platinum Stick Show” you’ve never seen! So give it up for these absolute legends of the plate.

I'm tellin' ya — this is the best thing since Ovaltine!

And remember: Platinum Stick winners... they're real, and they're spectacular!

[jg2977]

Aight, lemme holla at you real quick, 'cause what we got here? This ain’t just some regular-degular award list — nah, fam. This is the Western Conference Platinum Stick crew, 2002 edition. These boys? They ain’t just swingin’ for the fences. They dismantlin’ scoreboards and ruining pitchers' dreams in broad daylight. And some of 'em? They been doin’ this. Others just arrived at the table — and already eatin’ like kings.

Let me break it down for you in a way even Bellick could understand.

🎯 Catcher – Tsuneo Okuhara (Colorado Avalanche)
.321/.380/.596 | 34 HR | 110 RBI | 3.4 WAR
Okuhara behind the dish like a ninja with a bat. Might not lead the league in flash, but he solid like the bars on Cell Block D.

🎯 First Baseman – Marty Funkhouser (St. Louis Blues)
.404/.503/.922 | 78 HR | 181 RBI | 10.9 WAR
Don’t let that suburban name fool you — Marty bringin’ the funk and the fury. You throw heat, he turn it into fireworks. Straight savage.

🎯 Second Baseman – David Puddy (Utah Mammoth)
.485/.618/1.264 | 87 HR | 195 RBI | 19.1 WAR
Puddy? Man plays like he just got paroled — no fear, no hesitation, just damage. And with numbers like that, he got the league shook.

🎯 Third Baseman – Corey Perry (Los Angeles Kings)
.536/.654/1.434 | 118 HR | 282 RBI | 23.2 WAR
Yo, Perry out here cookin’ like he tryna get transferred to minimum security. MVP numbers in an MVP body. He don’t play — he dominate.

🎯 Shortstop – Ron Hextall (Chicago Blackhawks)
.423/.504/1.124 | 122 HR | 230 RBI | 19.1 WAR
Wasn’t he a goalie? Yeah, well now he a walking nuke. This man hittin’ like he mad at the ball for callin’ his momma names.

🎯 Left Fielder – Amenzu Jabiri (Dallas Stars)
.504/.619/1.248 | 106 HR | 252 RBI | 21.8 WAR
This dude Jabiri? He ain’t from this planet. Makes the bat look like a magic wand. Poof — ball gone. Just like that.

🎯 Center Fielder – Connor Bedard (Chicago Blackhawks)
.528/.642/1.413 | 118 HR | 307 RBI | 24.5 WAR
Bedard ain’t just a name — he a problem. Dude got more power than the warden, more speed than a yard break. Pure beast mode.

🎯 Right Fielder – Nick Foligno (Chicago Blackhawks)
.533/.664/1.426 | 110 HR | 304 RBI | 24.8 WAR
Foligno and Bedard in the same outfield? Man, that’s a maximum security lineup. One swing away from ending your season. Foligno got that “I dare you” swag.

🎯 Designated Hitter – Jose Santa Cruz (Vancouver Canucks)
.356/.417/.752 | 67 HR | 191 RBI | 6.4 WAR
Santa Cruz? He the silent killer. Don’t run, don’t steal, don’t talk. Just walks in, drops bombs, walks out. Cold as solitary.

Yo, this squad ain’t just hitters — they assassins with Louisville Sluggers. You bring 'em heat, they bring the smoke. So next time you face these dudes? Just hope you got protection — and insurance.

C-Note out. Respect the stick.

[jg2977]

I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t expect it. But the numbers—they tell the story.

In a season marked by uncertainty, by chaos and triumph, Will Cuylle stood as a force of consistency. At just 22 years old, the New York Rangers first baseman didn’t merely arrive—he detonated. And today, it was made official: he’s your 2002 Eastern Conference Rookie of the Year.

He wasn’t chasing glory. He was just doing his job. But the result?
316 hits.
123 home runs.
358 RBIs.
354 runs scored.
A .549 batting average and a .654 OBP.

It wasn’t flash. It was efficiency. Precision. Relentless drive.

The vote? Not close.
Out of 36 possible first-place votes, Cuylle received 34.
Itsuro Bliebernicht, his teammate and another rookie phenom, earned the other two.
Sean Couturier, a veteran in a rookie’s disguise, rounded out the top three.

Player Team 1st Place Votes Total Points
Will Cuylle New York Rangers 34 176
Itsuro Bliebernicht New York Rangers 2 112
Sean Couturier Philadelphia Flyers 0 36
In a league filled with noise, Cuylle was signal. No gimmicks. No shortcuts. Just focus. Intent. And devastating results.

He didn’t ask to be here.
But now that he is… he’s not going anywhere.

And neither are the records he just rewrote.

[jg2977]

Alright, listen up.
We’ve got ourselves a rookie who didn’t just make noise—he lit the whole damn Western Conference on fire.

Name’s Nick Foligno.
Team: Chicago Blackhawks.
Age: 22.
Position: Right field.
Stat line? Try .533 average over 150 games. That’s 270 hits, 110 bombs, 304 RBIs, and 284 runs. You know what that tells me?

He’s not guessing. He’s not lucky. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Voting results just came in.
Out of 36 first-place votes, Foligno took 25. That’s not a race. That’s a chase, and he left the rest of the field in the dust.

Player Team 1st Place Votes Total Points
Nick Foligno Chicago Blackhawks 25 158
Corey Perry Los Angeles Kings 11 130
Willie Diaz St. Louis Blues 0 36
Now I know what some of you are thinking:
“What about Corey Perry? What about Willie Diaz?”
Well, here’s the deal: they ran hard. But Foligno outran them. Outswung them. Outplayed them. Period.

So unless either of them has a secret stat line hiding in a storm drain somewhere, this case is closed.
Foligno’s the guy.
And he earned it the hard way.

That’s it. That’s all I got. Now get back to work.

[jg2977]

Billy Madison voice:
Ohhh man, let me tell ya somethin’—Manuel Santiago is the man. You win 147 games, you take home the Stanley Cup, you throw a party at some ritzy New York steakhouse where the napkins are folded like little swans—that’s how you do it, baby!

But check this out—when he first rolled into town? People were like, “Who’s this guy? He’s not gonna do anything!” HA! Those people are probably eating cereal out of a shoe right now, because Manny freakin’ Santiago just won Manager of the Year in the Eastern Conference, 2002!

And he’s all humble about it, too!
He’s like:

“Eh, I’m no genius. The players made me look good.”
Come on, dude! That’s like me saying I passed third grade because the books were heavy! Give yourself some credit!

The Rangers go 147-15, and boom, they’re Stanley Cup champs! You think that just happens? No way! That’s like finding a Trapper Keeper full of snack packs! That’s rare!

So raise a juice box to Manuel Santiago—the manager who turned doubt into domination and dinner into celebration. And remember:

“Stay in school… or just win 147 games and become a legend.”
YEAH! [does little victory dance]

[jg2977]

[Cue whimsical music… and a puff of smoke as Inspector Gadget arrives in a trench coat and helicopter hat.]

Inspector Gadget voice:

Go-Go-Gadget–Manager of the Year!

That’s right, folks! In the wild, wild world of Western Conference baseball, one man has risen above the rest… with discipline, drive, and just a pinch of no-nonsense grit. His name? Juan Medina—field manager of the Calgary Flames, and your 2002 Western Conference Manager of the Year!

Wowsers!

With Medina at the helm, the Flames blazed their way to a 120-42 finish, taking third place in the conference and igniting the city of Calgary with red-hot enthusiasm!

Now don’t let that serious face fool you—Mr. Medina runs a tight dugout. He’s got the tactical mind of a chess master and the glare of a disappointed math teacher. Just ask one of his players:

“He doesn't let you coast, and he doesn’t care who you are. You earn everything. But he’s fair. And that’s why we’ll run through a brick wall for him."
Sounds like a guy who’d have a very organized sock drawer!

Of course, Medina’s leadership isn’t powered by fancy gadgets like mine (though I could lend him my Go-Go Bullpen if he ever needs it). No, his success is all heart, hustle, and good ol’ fashioned hardball know-how.

Congratulations, Juan Medina! The Western Conference tips its cap to you—and I’ll be watching your next move with my Gadget-o-scope!

Until next time… Go-Go-Gadget Glory!
da-da-da-da-da Inspector Medina!

[jg2977]

“A Hero on the Mound” – A Superman-Style Dispatch on Zuhayr Ndadaye’s Dominance

From the skies above the Eastern Conference comes a tale not of capes and villains, but of fireballs and dominance...

Just when the baseball world was ready to write the final chapter in the saga of Zuhayr Ndadaye, the ace of the Tampa Bay Lightning, the veteran pitcher reminded us all that true heroes never retire quietly—they rise, stronger than ever. The murmurs of retirement that buzzed around him like Lex Luthor’s schemes last offseason have been vanquished—obliterated by a season so mighty, even the Hall of Justice would applaud.

Today, Ndadaye stood tall—cape not required—as he was crowned the Eastern Conference Pitcher of the Year, and make no mistake: it wasn’t close. With 35 of 36 first-place votes, he seized the honor like a hero catching a falling plane. The numbers? Superhuman.

24 wins, just 3 losses—a win-loss record that laughs in the face of mediocrity.
2.69 ERA, sharper than Kryptonite through steel.
232 strikeouts across 261.1 innings—each pitch fired like a bolt of truth and justice.
Across 34 starts, he brought calm to the storm, fire to the cold, and inspiration to teammates and fans alike. No villainous lineup could break through.

Trailing in his powerful wake were fine competitors:

Alfredo Sanchez of the Montreal Canadiens, brave with 1 first-place vote and 138 total points,
Seong Gi-Hun of the New York Rangers, strong with 97 points,
followed by the duo from Long Island—Taylor Nance and Chris van Laar—with 92 and 34 points, respectively.
Tampa teammate Alex Arroyo earned 2 points, reminding us that even sidekicks matter in the grand saga.
But none could match The Ace of Thunder Bay. Not this year. Not with destiny on his side.

So while others may take to the skies with capes and symbols, Ndadaye takes to the mound—with leather, resolve, and a fastball that could outrun a speeding bullet.

Up in the sky? No—it’s just Zuhayr. And he’s still got it. ��*♂️⚾