National Baseball League

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Colorado Avalanche: 8th Conference Finals berth
1977 1978 1982 1985 1986 1988 1990 2003

Avalanche stun Stars. Avalanche advance to first Conference Final in thirteen years.

"Listen to me, Larry—twelve to eight! In hockey terms, that’s a football score. The Avalanche, they go into Dallas, the big bad defending champs, and wham, they take ‘em out in Game Seven. First time they’re in the Conference Final in thirteen years—thirteen years! That’s like three presidential administrations. You know how long that is in sports? That’s like… forever.

And these Stars? The defending Western Conference champions? Ohhh, they’re going home. Bags packed, probably crying in the locker room. You see this Okuhara guy for Colorado? MVP of the series. Hitting .452! That’s not batting average, that’s like… I don’t know, stock market growth numbers! Four home runs, nine RBIs, eight runs scored—he’s practically doing everything but selling popcorn in the stands.

And Jorge Sanchez? Two home runs, eight total bases in Game Seven alone. Guy’s out there treating the biggest game of the year like a Sunday beer league. Meanwhile, Nathan MacKinnon? Gets ejected in the first inning for starting a bench-clearing brawl—oh, real classy! First inning! What is this, pro wrestling?

But the kicker—Dallas had this thing! 3-1 after the first inning, 7-1 after the second! You’re up six runs at home in a Game Seven, Larry—you don’t lose that game! That’s like ordering a pizza, eating seven slices, and then somehow giving the last one back. It doesn’t happen! But it happened.

The Avalanche don’t even know who they’re playing next. Could be Chicago, could be Calgary. Either way, they’re flying high. Dallas? They’re just… flying home."

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Chicago Blackhawks: 6th Conference Finals berth
1977 1989 1999 2001 2002 2003

Alright, so… the Blackhawks… they won.
They’re goin’ to the Conference Finals… again… third straight year.
Which is… crazy… ‘cause I didn’t even know you could do that.
Like… I thought at some point they make you take a year off… y’know… let someone else try.
They beat the Flames, nine to seven.
Which… I didn’t even know was a hockey score we were allowed to have.
That’s a football game… but with more violence… and way fewer commercials.

Uh… Mila Grubin… center fielder — yeah, I know, center fielder in hockey, right? —
he hit two home runs, a double, drove in seven runs.
Seven.
I mean… I don’t even have seven friends.
This guy… he’s just bringing people home all night.

And… Connor Bedard… walked six times in one game.
Six.
I’ve been to Waffle House less than that this month.
How do you walk six times in a hockey game?
I mean… they call it a “walk” in baseball… in hockey I guess it’s more of a… polite glide?
Just like, “Oh no, you go ahead, I’ll just… float over here to first base.”

The Flames… they actually made it close.
They were down big, they came back, made it a little scary…
which, I think, is just so they can feel better about themselves.
Like, “Hey, we lost… but we almost lost by less.”

And now the Hawks play Colorado.
For a trip to the Stanley Cup Final.
So… no big deal… just… every single thing you’ve worked for your entire life…
all coming down to the next week or so.

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2003 NHL Conference Finals

Alright, let’s go through it here… 2003 NHL Final Four… this is a big one.

First… the New York Rangers. Ten Cups. Ten. They’re the defending champions. They’ve been to the Finals fifteen times. This is the glamour franchise right now — the defending champs, loaded roster, they know how to win.

Then… you’ve got the Islanders. And look, they’ve only been there once — 1999 — but they won it. One trip, one Cup. That’s a hundred percent success rate, folks. You can’t beat that on paper. Small sample size, yes, but they made it count.

Over in the West, the Chicago Blackhawks. Won it in 2001, they’ve been to the Finals twice. Very dangerous team, very playoff-tested, and they’re used to this stage.

And then there’s the Colorado Avalanche. They’ve been to the Finals three times, haven’t won it yet. They’re looking for that first Cup. And remember — ’85, ’86, back-to-back — they lose to the Rangers both times. That’s in the history, that’s in the blood of the franchise. You know they’re thinking about that if they get another shot.

So… who’s it gonna be? Does the Rangers dynasty keep rolling? Do the Islanders make it two-for-two? Does Chicago get their second in three years? Or does Colorado finally get the monkey off their back? We’re gonna find out — and I’ll tell ya right now — every one of these teams can win the whole thing.

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Let me tell you somethin’ right now — that was a butt-kicking. I don’t care if it’s hockey, baseball, water polo, or checkers in the student union — you don’t walk into somebody’s building in the Conference Finals and get shut out 8-nothing unless you’re not ready to play. And Colorado? They weren’t ready to play.

Connor Bedard? That kid just torched you. Three-for-four, two bombs, three RBIs, three runs scored — he was doing whatever he wanted out there. And then Armando Gonzalez? Guy steps up and just ends you in the fourth with a three-run shot. That’s six runs in two innings, folks. You can’t give up six runs in the middle of a playoff game and expect to still be around when the anthem plays tomorrow night.

And don’t tell me about the doubles, don’t tell me about the “hard outs” — five hits, no runs, eleven guys left on base. You had more men stranded than a lifeboat in a storm.

Meanwhile, Chicago’s over there hittin’ triples, stealing bases, gunning guys at the plate — Perez is mowing you down for seven and two-thirds. They played like a team that wants a ring.

Now here’s the problem — this is Game 1 of a best-of-seven. You don’t make a statement like that if you’re Chicago unless you want Colorado thinking about this one all night. And I promise you — the Avalanche are gonna toss and turn, because that? That was an embarrassment.

Tomorrow? You better find some pride. Or you’re goin’ home a lot sooner than you think.

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You know, it’s funny. There are games that feel like slow-brewing coffee — methodical, careful, every drop adding up to something special. And then there are games like this one. The New York Rangers didn’t brew anything. They poured the whole bag of beans straight into the machine, hit extra strong, and by the first inning, the Islanders were already drowning in caffeine.
Seventeen runs. Thirteen hits. Not a single error. Will Cuylle was everywhere — three hits, a walk, four runs scored, four driven in. The kind of night that makes you wonder if maybe he’s just been politely holding back all season, waiting for October to arrive.

Itsuro Bliebernicht hit a three-run homer in the first inning that might still be airborne. B. Rice went deep twice. Even M. Grubin, who always seems to have a knack for timing, chipped in with a two-run shot just when the Islanders thought they might have caught their breath. They never did.

Meanwhile, Henry Macias was on the mound, pitching like someone who knew he had a very comfortable cushion — eight and a third innings, two hits, one lonely run. If the Islanders had any hope, it ended somewhere between the fifth strikeout and the fourth home run they watched sail over the fence.

It’s October in New York, which means scarves, the faint smell of roasted chestnuts on the street… and apparently, 17-1 playoff wins at Madison Square Garden. The Rangers lead the series 1-0, and tomorrow night, they’ll be back under the lights. Maybe it’ll be closer. Maybe it won’t.

But for now, the city goes to bed knowing that at least one team in blue and white has figured out exactly how to start a Conference Final.

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UNITED CENTER – Chicago, IL – October 3, 2003
You know those nights when you think, "Hey, I’ve got this under control," and then the other guy shows up with a proton pack and blasts you halfway to Jersey? That was Colorado’s evening in a nutshell.

The Chicago Blackhawks — yes, still playing like they’ve got the keys to the city — edged out the Avalanche, 8-7, in what I can only describe as a haunted house of runs. Connor Bedard? Forget “rookie phenom.” This guy’s hitting like he just inhaled a dozen Stay Puft marshmallows and chased it with espresso. Four hits, including a homer and a triple, four RBIs… and a stolen base for dessert. Somebody check his locker for unlicensed nuclear accelerators.

First inning, Bedard launches a two-run missile, and Nick Foligno chimes in with his own solo blast just to make sure Colorado’s pitcher, H. Zhu, knew this wasn’t a friendly scrimmage. By the second inning? Boom — triple, RBI, and Chicago’s up 7-0. Avalanche manager probably wanted to call in the Ghostbusters just to clear the bad vibes from the dugout.

But Colorado — give them credit — they didn’t just melt like a green ghost in a containment unit. J. Grubin’s three-run homer in the third cracked the scoreboard wide open. Then Cale Makar went deep in the ninth to make it 8-7 and give everyone in Chicago a mild coronary. But in the end, the Blackhawks bullpen shut the trap and crossed the streams just right.

Player of the game? Bedard, obviously. The guy was sliming Colorado all afternoon. Chicago now leads the series 2-0, and next stop is Denver on Sunday. If the Avalanche don’t figure out how to stop him, Bedard might just haunt them for the rest of their careers.

Game quote of the night:
Blackhawks skipper Bob Valdivia: “Our guys are never satisfied.”
Translation: We ain’t afraid of no ghosts.

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I don’t care if you’ve got eight goals or twenty-seven, the scoreboard resets to zero at the start of the next game. But tonight, these boys—our Rangers—played the game the way it’s supposed to be played.
They didn’t try to be flashy, didn’t try to be bigger than the game. They swung the bats, they ran the bases, they moved runners over. Barton Sattler—forty-one years old—showed the young men in the building how to respect the game. Three home runs, four runs scored, and he never once made it about himself. That’s how you lead.

And it wasn’t just him. Avery Grubin gave us a three-run shot. Mark Grubin, Kramer, Rice—they all chipped in. You don’t hang twenty-seven runs on the board because one man carries you. You do it because every man does his job and trusts the man behind him to do his.

We’re up two games to none, and that’s fine. But we can’t play Monday like we’ve already won anything. If you think you can coast, you’ll be watching the other team celebrate.

Boys, remember—there’s no star bigger than the team, no play more important than the one right in front of you. You play hard, you play clean, and you respect this game.

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Man, lemme tell you somethin’ — Mark Grubin straight up cooked the Islanders tonight. Dude went 5-for-6, droppin’ hits all over the damn field like Oprah givin’ out cars. “You get a single! You get a double! You get a triple!”
Rangers win? Pssh, 27–8. That ain’t even a win, that’s a whoopin’. That’s like when you play Madden on rookie mode and score 90, and the other guy still talkin’ like he had a shot.

Grubin? First inning, he slap a single — boom. Second inning, two-run homer, sendin’ Nance’s pitch to the shadow realm. Fourth inning, he’s like “eh, I’ll take a walk, give y’all a little break.” Fifth? Double. Sixth? Another single, just ‘cause he can. Seventh inning, alright, grounded out — man’s human. But eighth inning? Tripled in another run like it was nothin’.

And yo, check this — my man hittin’ .518 this season with 112 bombs, 233 RBIs, and 368 runs scored. I ain’t never seen numbers like that outside of a video game, and even then you’d be like, “Nah, that’s unrealistic.”

So yeah… that was fun.

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DENVER, BABY! It was an instant classic in the Mile High City, a true PTP’er special, as the Colorado Avalanche came up with a MAMMA MIA, ARE YOU KIDDIN’ ME?! type win, 9–8, over the Chicago Blackhawks in Game 3 of the Western Conference Finals, baby!
And it was Nathan MacKinnon, the prime time performer, the diaper dandy turned seasoned superstar, putting the team on his back! My guy goes 3-for-5, TWO bombers, three RBIs, scoring twice — talk about delivering when the lights are the brightest, baby! That’s awesome with a capital A!

This one had more twists and turns than my Aunt Mary’s spaghetti fork, pal. Early on, the Hawks came out swingin’ — Bedard, Klompus, Hextall — oh, they were droppin’ extra-base hits like candy on Halloween. Bedard? This guy’s hittin’ .639 in the postseason — that’s not a batting average, baby, that’s a NASA launch code!

But the Avs? They never blinked, never backed down, baby! In the bottom of the 8th, it’s Alfonso Jaime, my unsung hero, my “you better write his mama after this game” guy — delivers the clutch single to make it 7–6! And then Victor Argote, bang! Two-run blast, the crowd’s going bananas, the building’s shaking like it’s March Madness in overtime!

And how about that finish? Winn Bunney — not a typo, baby — picks off Bedard to end it! That’s ice in the veins, baby, that’s making plays when it counts!

This series? Oh, it’s got drama, it’s got heroes, it’s got villains — it’s got everything a hockey junkie could want! Game 4 tomorrow night, same building, same crowd, same goosebumps!

Final from Denver: Colorado 9, Chicago 8 — and the Avs are BACK in the hunt, baby!

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NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE – or should I say “National Home Run League” tonight, baby! The New York Rangers came into UBS Arena looking for the 3–0 stranglehold, and they got it in a slugfest special, knocking off the Long Island Islanders 14–11, baby!
We’re talkin’ about Itsuro Bliebernicht — ohhh, my guy was a PTP’er, a prime-time performer, delivering 3-for-5, 2 bombers, 4 RBIs, scoring 3 times — Mamma Mia! That’s stepping up when your team needs ya, baby!

And how about Benny Rice? My diaper dandy turned super stud — 4-for-5, 2 homers, 3 RBIs, 11 total bases — that’s video game numbers, baby! He was hittin’ rockets all over the yard!

The Rangers’ bats were like the fireworks on the Fourth of July, baby — 6 different guys going deep: Rice, Bliebernicht (twice), Cuylle, M. Grubin, E. Grubin, A. Grubin — boom, boom, boom! It was a home run derby wearing playoff clothes!

Now, give credit to the Isles — they fought like crazy in the 6th inning, baby, dropping 8 runs in a frame that had more drama than the last two minutes of the NCAA title game. J. Valenzuela? Two dingers. A. Esparza? Two dingers. The fans were losing their minds, the place was rocking, but in the end, the Rangers’ bullpen slammed the door shut!

Series now 3–0, Rangers just one win away from the Conference Finals sweep. Tomorrow night? It’s do-or-die for the Islanders, baby — bring your popcorn, because the PTP’ers will be out in full force!

🎙 “Let’s meet the stars, baby!”

Mark Grubin – The Maestro of Madison Square Garden! The floor general, the table-setter, the guy with the baseball IQ off the charts — gets on base, makes things happen, baby!

Benny Rice – Big-Time Benny! My diaper dandy turned super stud! He’s got light tower power and a swing smoother than a Sinatra ballad, baby!

Itsuro Bliebernicht – The Big Blieb! A prime-time performer, always delivering when it counts! When the ball leaves his bat, baby, it’s time to check the parking lot for dents!

Will Cuylle – The Cuylle Cannon! A multi-tool talent — speed, power, defense — the total package, baby!

E. Grubin – The Big E! The silent assassin! You don’t hear him coming, then BOOM — he’s takin’ you deep, baby!

Avery Grubin – Mr. Clutch! This guy’s DNA is 100% postseason! When it’s money time, he’s cashing the check, baby!

J. Valenzuela – The Long Island Launcher! The Islanders’ big bopper, the man with the BAM-BAM bat!

A. Esparza – The Spark Plug! My under-the-radar guy who can hurt you in a hurry — two dingers tonight, baby!

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They play a lot of hockey in Denver, but on Monday night at Ball Arena, the Avalanche played something closer to pinball. The puck — or in this case, the ball — was flying everywhere, and when it stopped moving, Colorado had a 15-8 win over the Chicago Blackhawks, and a 2-2 series tie in the Conference Finals.
The big shot of the night? That came in the first inning, two outs, runners on, Alfonso Jaime at the plate. Jaime saw a hanging curve from Luis Celis and sent it over the wall for a three-run homer. It was 5-1 Colorado before the Blackhawks could even take a breath, and Jaime wasn’t done. Another home run in the seventh. Five RBIs on the night.

The Avalanche hit like they were trying to make up for lost time — Nathan MacKinnon hitting one into the seats, Cale Makar going deep, K. Alisjahbana and J. Grubin joining the fun. Six home runs in all, 16 hits, everybody in the lineup doing something. MacKinnon crossed the plate four times, tying a playoff record.

Chicago? They hit, too. Ron Hextall had three hits and a home run. But they couldn’t keep Colorado in the yard, and they couldn’t keep the game close.

This series heads back to Chicago now, all even, the Avalanche suddenly remembering how to slug.

On nights like this, the math is simple. You hit, you win.

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NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE
NEW YORK RANGERS AT LONG ISLAND ISLANDERS
October 7, 2003 — UBS Arena
You know, back when I was a young man scoring four touchdowns in a single game for Polk High, there was a thing called pride. You didn’t just let the other guy stomp all over you like a doormat at the shoe store. But apparently, nobody told the Rangers that last night.

The Islanders — a team that was down 3–0 in the series and looked about as alive as my love life — somehow decided to wake up and hang a 20-spot on the Rangers. Twenty runs. That’s not a hockey score, that’s what my electric bill looks like after Peg leaves the hair dryer on all night.

And the guy who killed us? Adrie Sijtsma. This guy hit three home runs. Three! That’s one more than I scored touchdowns in the city championship — and trust me, people still talk about that. The man drove in seven runs, stole a base, probably parked the team bus, and still had enough energy to walk off the field smiling like he just married a supermodel.

By the 5th inning, the Islanders had scored nine runs in one frame. Nine! I’ve seen bowling teams put up smaller numbers. Rangers pitchers were coming in and out of the game faster than Kelly’s boyfriends. Contreras, Wang, Menendez, Guillen… each one worse than the last. It was like watching a parade of bad decisions — kind of like when Peg goes to the mall “just to look.”

Sure, the Rangers hit a few bombs — Cuylle, Bliebernicht, Kramer, and Sattler all went deep. But when you give up 19 hits, you could have Babe Ruth, Barry Bonds, and me in my prime in the lineup and you’re still not winning.

Final score: Islanders 20, Rangers 8.
Series now 3–1 Rangers, but momentum’s wearing an Islanders jersey and laughing in our faces.

Next game’s back at Madison Square Garden, and if the Rangers don’t find some Polk High spirit, they’re gonna blow this faster than Peg blows my paycheck.

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Alright, picture this — you’re sitting there in the United Center, big playoff game, Conference Finals, Game 5… and the Blackhawks are just mauling the Avalanche. I mean, 11-2, dude. That’s not hockey, that’s like watching a nature documentary where a lion finds a gazelle with a limp.
So here’s the thing — Emilio Trevino, this guy… he’s a machine. First inning, bases loaded, they’re actually losing 1-0, and he just goes: “Nah, we’re not doing that,” smacks a bases-clearing double. Like, boom — all of a sudden it’s 3-1, and the Avs are looking around like, “Wait, what just happened?”

Then the second inning, Trevino comes up again and homers. That’s two massive hits in his first two at-bats. You could see the Colorado pitchers — they were already done. They were like, “Yeah, I’m good. Someone else take the ball.”

And here’s what blows my mind — you look at the Colorado lineup, they’ve got MacKinnon, Makar, dudes who are absolute freak athletes, but they couldn’t touch Danny Perez. That guy went seven innings, eight strikeouts, like he was throwing in a video game.

Now it’s 3-2 in the series, heading back to Denver for Game 6, and here’s where it gets wild — Chicago’s got all the momentum. And in playoff sports, man… momentum is real. You can’t measure it, you can’t put it in a box score, but you can feel it.

I swear, if Trevino shows up in Denver with the same energy, the Avs might as well just start booking tee times.

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New York Rangers: 16th Stanley Cup Finals berth
1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1994 1995 1998 2000 2001 2002 2003

Case File: The Final Step to the Cup
Location: Madison Square Garden
Date: The 9th of October, 2003
Inspector: Sherlock Holmes

It was upon a brisk evening, with the air in Manhattan sharp and invigorating, that I found myself drawn into yet another most curious contest between the Long Island Islanders and the New York Rangers. The scene was set for the conclusion of their Conference Finals encounter, and though the scoreline would eventually favour the Rangers by 13 goals to 9, the path to that conclusion contained numerous clues, reversals, and the occasional stroke of brilliance.

From the first moments, the Islanders struck aggressively, Sijtsma and Bossy each employing the long ball with a ruthlessness that hinted at an early rout. Three runs in the first, another pair in the third—it appeared the visitors had laid a clever trap. And yet, I noted certain tells: a rigidity in their defensive alignment, a curious lapse by Esparza at first base, and a certain inevitability in the Rangers’ responses.

The counterattack came swiftly. In the opening frames, Messrs. Sattler, Bliebernicht, and Rice each provided telling blows, their bats as precise as a surgeon’s scalpel. By the fifth inning, Mark Grubin delivered the decisive stroke—a grand slam that ripped the Islanders’ scheme to pieces. His performance was of particular note: three hits, a triple, a stolen base, and four runs driven in. It was the very picture of a man seizing the moment.

Ben Rice, the series MVP, continued his almost uncanny run of form, batting .652 over the set. He struck for a triple in the sixth, adding to his already overflowing ledger of 14 runs batted in during the series. His remarks after the match were telling—not merely content with this honour, but intent upon securing the ultimate prize in the Finals.

The Islanders did not go quietly, however. Clark’s solo shot in the eighth showed admirable defiance, and Bossy’s pair of homers kept the tension alive. But the Rangers’ relief corps, particularly Vera in the closing stages, extinguished any lingering hopes.

The case, as they say, is closed: the Rangers advance to their fourth consecutive Stanley Cup Final—sixteenth in their storied history. Their next adversary remains unknown, as Chicago and Colorado are still embroiled in their own struggle. But if I may hazard a deduction, the Rangers, with this blend of power, guile, and relentless pursuit, are well-armed for what lies ahead.

Conclusion: It was not mere chance that delivered the Rangers this victory—it was the product of opportunism, disciplined investigation into their opponent’s flaws, and a timely application of force. The Islanders presented a challenge, yes, but their methods were ultimately transparent to a mind trained in the art of detection.

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Chicago Blackhawks: 3rd Stanley Cup Finals berth
1999 2001 2003

“This… is where legends are made.”

October 10th, 2003 — Ball Arena was the battlefield. The Chicago Blackhawks stepped into enemy territory, not just to play… but to dominate. The Colorado Avalanche thought they were ready. They thought they had what it takes. But when the dust settled, the Blackhawks walked out 22-12 victors, Conference Champions, and on their way to the Stanley Cup Finals for the third time in five years.

And leading the charge? The MVP, the man who is the Game right now — Ron Hextall. Four home runs. Eight RBI. Twenty total bases. You don’t just play like that… you take over.

Connor Bedard? Two massive home runs, three hits, and the kind of swagger that tells the world, “You can’t stop me.” Jack Klompus? A five-hit night, driving in runs like it’s second nature. This wasn’t luck, this was a statement.

Colorado threw everything they had — MacKinnon with four runs, two bombs of his own — but every time they struck, Chicago hit back harder. This was a fight, a grind, and the Blackhawks refused to stay down.

Now, the final stage is set: Chicago vs. New York. The Blackhawks vs. the defending champions, the Rangers. The bright lights. The biggest prize in hockey.

Because when it’s all on the line, when history is waiting… you don’t just play the game…

…you BE the Game.

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“Ball Arena, Denver, Colorado… the Nature Boy was in the building, baby, and he had a front row seat to HISTORY!”

Nothing — and I mean nothing — could stop Ron Hextall, WOOOO! Not the Colorado Avalanche, not their pitching staff, not even the thin air up in the Rockies! The 34-year-old shortstop strutted down to that plate, kissed the sky, and sent FOUR baseballs flying over the fence like they owed him money, brother!

And when the smoke cleared? The Chicago Blackhawks walked out with a 22–12 win, styling, profiling, limousine riding, jet flying, kiss-stealing, wheelin’ and dealin’ their way to the Stanley Cup Finals! WOOOO!

Six hits in seven at-bats! Four home runs! Eight RBI! Five runs scored! That’s not just a game — that’s a show, baby! That’s a Rolex-wearing, diamond ring-wearing main event!

First inning, solo shot! WOOOO! Second inning, solo shot! WOOOO! Fourth inning — GRAND SLAM, daddy! GRAND SLAM! And in the sixth? Another two-run bomb! You think he was done? Uh-uh — still had time to single in the seventh and triple in the ninth just to make sure they knew who the man was.

This season? .437 batting average, 116 home runs, 224 RBIs… and 290 runs scored! That’s why they call him the dirtiest player in the game — because he makes pitchers look downright foolish!

So to the New York Rangers in the Finals? You’re next! WOOOO!