National Baseball League

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Los Angeles Dodgers: 6th NLCS berth
1902 1910 1914 1918 1922 1923

It was a cool autumn afternoon in Milwaukee, the kind that feels like baseball’s season of reckoning. The wind danced across American Family Field, the skies were a crisp blue, and forty-eight thousand fans bundled in their jackets saw October baseball at its very best — decisive, dramatic, and for one team, deeply satisfying.
The Los Angeles Dodgers, backs to the wall just days ago, came charging through the finish line with a 10–4 victory over the Milwaukee Brewers — and with it, a trip to the National League Championship Series for the second straight year, and the sixth time in franchise history.
For Los Angeles, it was not a quiet win — it was thunderous.
They scored in bursts, like lightning cracks through a dark sky. Three runs in the second, another in the third, and then, in the seventh inning, they erupted for six — a flurry that sent the Brewers faithful sinking back into their seats.
And in the center of it all was the heart and soul of this Dodgers club — Francisco Aviles, the left fielder who seemed to touch every big moment in this series. Aviles hit .438 with a .500 on-base percentage. He scored four times, hit two home runs, and was rightly named the Most Valuable Player of the Division Series. Not bad for a young man who plays the game the way you might imagine a jazz musician plays a horn — smooth, fearless, and always in rhythm.
The Dodgers didn’t do it alone, of course.
Cory Brierton — the big first baseman — drove in three runs and smacked a two-run home run in that explosive seventh. Bobby Cimabue, the second baseman with a name fit for an artist, was one today — two home runs, two masterpieces of timing and torque. And how about Ericl Usher? Two hits, including a bases-clearing double that broke Milwaukee’s back and blew the game open.
On the mound, right-hander Ryan Grater gave Los Angeles exactly what they needed: 7⅔ innings of sturdy, confident pitching. Seven strikeouts, just one walk, two home runs allowed but always pitching with a lead — the mark of a man who knows how to keep his team in front.
And when the dust settled, Grater handed the ball to Oscar Vargas, who finished what the Dodgers had started — calm, clean, efficient.
For Milwaukee, the story was one of fleeting hope.
Carlos Humphrey’s two-run home run in the fifth gave the Brewers a pulse, and Joe Flores’ two-run blast in the eighth gave the crowd a flicker of life. But this was Los Angeles’ day — their lineup relentless, their resolve unshakable.
The final line told the tale:
Dodgers, ten runs on fourteen hits and one error.
Brewers, four runs on seven hits, no errors.
And when the last out nestled into a Dodger glove, the players on that visiting bench exhaled as one — a collective sigh of triumph and relief.
Tomorrow, it’s back to the drawing board for Milwaukee. For Los Angeles, it’s déjà vu — another October dance with the New York Mets, the same opponent who sent them home last year. A rematch, a rivalry, and a chance for redemption.
And so, under clear skies and the hum of a Midwestern breeze, the Dodgers move on — not just a team of talent, but of tenacity.
As I’ve always said: in baseball, hope never retires.
And tonight, hope wears Dodger blue.

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Cleveland Indians: 5th ALCS berth
1902 1919 1920 1921 1923

“Well folks, grab your popcorn and hold onto your beer — because the Cleveland Indians just sent the Oakland A’s back to the Bay with their tails between their legs! Final score: Cleveland 7, Oakland 1, and the Tribe takes the series three games to two. They’re off to the League Championship Series, and this city hasn’t been this loud since someone found out the beer was half-price last Tuesday.
Cleveland came out swingin’ early — three runs in the first, and they never looked back. Oakland’s pitcher Ike Dickey looked like he was throwing batting practice to a church picnic. Chris Alfonso, ladies and gentlemen — remember the name. Two hits, five runs batted in, and a grand slam that might still be airborne. That ball left Jacobs Field so fast it probably had to go through customs.
And how about Marty Niccolai on the mound? Seven and two-thirds innings, nine strikeouts, only one run — and that was unearned! Niccolai was dealing tonight. He had those Oakland hitters guessing worse than a blindfolded man at a dartboard.
The A’s lineup, meanwhile, couldn’t hit water if they fell out of a boat. Five hits all night — and two of those were by poor J. Hunter, who apparently didn’t get the memo that the rest of his team had already given up.
Defensively? Well, both teams made a couple of errors, but nothing says “we’re done” quite like the A’s fielding tonight. Two errors, a passed ball, and a double play that looked more like interpretive dance.
Now let’s talk about Alfonso again, because frankly, I can’t stop. The guy hit .632 for the series — that’s not a batting average, that’s a Wi-Fi connection! Three homers, eleven RBI, and a smile big enough to light up downtown Cleveland. Congratulations, Chris — you’re the MVP, the hero, and probably the reason half the crowd’s hoarse tonight.
Final line one more time:
Oakland — 1 run, 5 hits, 2 errors, and a long flight home.
Cleveland — 7 runs, 8 hits, 2 errors, and a date with the New York Yankees in the League Championship Series.
That’s right, folks — Cleveland vs. New York. The Indians and the Bronx Bombers. Classic matchup. Big bats, big egos, and a whole lotta beer to get us through it.
I’m Harry Doyle saying, ‘Just a bit outside… but Cleveland’s moving on!’ From Jacobs Field, goodnight everybody — and remember, if you can’t play like the Indians, at least drink like ’em!”

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1923 League Championship Series

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Ahhh… hellooo again, everybody.
The Schmooze — back with ya — after Game 1 of the League Championship Series, where your New York Metropolitans — yes, those Mets — take care of business at Citi Field, six to one over the Los Angeles Dodgers.
And lemme tell ya, the Dodgers came in here, they scored a run in the first inning… and that was it, folks. That was the whole show. One run, and then the Mets said, “Thank you, drive safely.”
Jose Rojas — seven innings, one run, no walks, five strikeouts — cool as a cucumber, folks. The guy looked like he was mowing his lawn out there. I mean, efficient, unbothered, just getting it done.
Then, how about Ricardo Contreras? Two-out, two-run double in the sixth, and boom — Mets take the lead and never look back. The guy said, quote, “I’m just looking to see the ball, hit the ball.”
Yeah, well Ricardo, that’s the idea. And tonight — ya saw it, ya hit it, ya won the game.
Then in the eighth — oh, baby — Alan Sloan. The three-run homer that put the game on ice. Goodnight everybody. Dodgers bullpen? T. Wicker, thanks for playing. ERA after that inning? 40.50. That’s not a number, that’s a GPS coordinate.
Now, let’s talk Dodgers. Donny van Meel — decent early, then poof! Gone. Seven strikeouts, three runs, and his face looked like someone told him Citi Field ran out of gluten-free pretzels.
The Mets offense? Balanced. Nine hits, six runs, everybody doing a little something. Brubaker gets on base, Sloan with the big swing, Contreras driving them in, and my guy J. Stacks — two hits, scored a run, doubled late — he’s turning into the scrappy, gritty Met that WFAN callers will pretend they always believed in.
And the bullpen? E. Hoelzle — two innings, lights out. One walk, that’s it. The guy’s ERA for the postseason? Zero point zero zero. He’s basically invisible out there.
Final line from Citi Field:
Dodgers — one run, seven hits, no errors, a whole lotta nothing.
Mets — six runs, nine hits, no errors, and a 1-0 series lead.
Next game’s tomorrow, same place. And folks, I’m just saying… I’ve seen this movie before. Mets pitching. Citi Field crowd. The Dodgers looking confused. You can almost hear that 1969 organ music in the background, can’t ya?
But for now — enjoy it, Mets fans. Get some sleep, if you can. The Schmooze will be here all night, taking your calls — the board’s already lit up.
“Steve, are the Mets for real?” — I dunno, you tell me!
Mets win it, six to one. Rojas the hero. Contreras clutch. Sloan with the dagger.
From Citi Field, I’m Steve Somers… the Schmooze… sayin’ goodnight ‘til the next good night.

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Michael Kay:
"From the corner of Carnegie and Ontario, a crisp October afternoon in Cleveland where the Yankees have struck first in the 1923 American League Championship Series — a 3–2 win over the Indians at Jacobs Field. And Don, this was one of those classic postseason games: not flashy, not loud — but efficient. The Yankees got what they needed, and Sean Jenkins was absolutely terrific."
Don La Greca:
"Yeah, I mean, Jenkins was dealing. Six and two-thirds, five hits, just two runs. He was in command the entire way. You could tell from the first inning he had that fastball working inside, the breaking stuff was sharp — the kind of start you need to steal Game 1 on the road."
Michael Kay:
"And they did it with just four hits! Think about that — four hits the entire afternoon. But they made them count. Sean Nicholson with that solo home run in the second — boom, gone — that tied the game up at one. Then later, in the fifth, Jimmy Rawlings with the go-ahead RBI single. That proved to be the difference. Small ball. Situational hitting. The kind of baseball that wins in October."
Don La Greca:
"Right, and give some credit to their catcher, Geoff Shackford. He didn’t get a hit, but he got on base twice, worked counts, and helped guide Jenkins through that Cleveland lineup. And let’s not forget — this Indians team won 110 games! You’re not gonna overpower them, you’ve gotta out-think them. The Yankees did that today."
Michael Kay:
"And for Cleveland — listen, they had chances. They left seven men on base, including two huge ones in the ninth when Cameron Nevarez came in from the bullpen and slammed the door. You could feel the tension in the ballpark. The Indians just couldn’t get that one big hit when it mattered."
Don La Greca:
"Yeah, and that’s baseball, Michael. It’s cruel sometimes. You out-hit your opponent 7–4, you do everything right except get the big swing, and you still lose. That’s October for you."
Michael Kay:
"Final score again — Yankees 3, Indians 2. New York takes a 1–0 lead in the American League Championship Series. Game 2 tomorrow afternoon right here in Cleveland. The Yankees trying to head home with a commanding lead… the Indians trying to even it up before this series shifts to the Bronx."
Don La Greca:
"And I’ll tell you what — if Game 2’s anything like this one, buckle up. This is gonna be a grind of a series."
Michael Kay (with signature sign-off tone):
"And so the Yankees, behind Sean Jenkins’ steady hand and a few timely swings, take Game 1. From Jacobs Field, for Don La Greca, I’m Michael Kay — so long from Cleveland."

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"Well, good afternoon once again, everybody — wherever you may be. A cool, partly cloudy day here in New York City, and the Mets fans filing out of Citi Field are smiling tonight, because their club has taken a commanding two-games-to-none lead in this National League Championship Series.
The final score — Mets 8, Dodgers 4 — but that doesn’t quite tell the whole story.
You could almost feel the years in Bobby Colon’s left arm — thirty-four years old, the veteran of so many big league battles — as he took the mound today. He wasn’t overpowering, but he was poised, deliberate, and unflappable. Six and two-thirds innings, seven hits, two runs, and every time the Dodgers threatened, Bobby found something extra. A little life on the fastball, a well-placed curve. It’s one of those days that remind you: experience still counts for something in this game.
And then, as the shadows lengthened across the infield in the sixth inning, the Mets’ bats — quiet for most of the afternoon — finally woke up. Kevin Brubaker, the man who led the National League in triples this season, lined a sharp single to right to get New York on the board. That cracked the door open, and Alan Sloan kicked it down. Two doubles, three runs batted in, and both of those doubles were of the ‘ring-off-the-wall’ variety. Every time he came through, you could almost hear the heartbeat of 39,000 fans rising with him.
In the seventh, David Rosa delivered the knockout punch — a two-run home run to left that just kept carrying on that brisk October wind. You could almost hear the sigh in Chavez’s delivery — he knew it was gone the moment it left the bat.
For Los Angeles, they battled. Ten hits on the day, a couple of late doubles from C.J. Rudeseal and young Ken Frost — but they were always chasing, never quite catching up. Baseball can be a funny game like that: you play well, and somehow, the scoreboard tells you otherwise.
So the story tonight belongs to the veteran lefty, Bobby Colon — who may not light up the radar gun, but who sure knows how to light up a scoreboard in his team’s favor.
The Mets win it, eight to four. They lead the series two games to none, and now the scene shifts to Los Angeles — where the Dodgers, will try to find a little October magic of their own under those warm California skies.
From Citi Field in New York, this is Vin Scully — wishing you a very pleasant good afternoon, wherever you may be."

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“Rain falling lightly over Jacobs Field — that fine mist that hangs in the autumn air and somehow feels like it belongs to October baseball. Game 2 of the American League Championship Series — the Yankees and Indians, two proud franchises with stories older than the game’s modern age — and tonight, Cleveland answered back.”
“The final score: Indians 7, Yankees 3. And the man at the center of it all — Zakaio Eneki. In a sport where the smallest moments can ripple into legend, Eneki provided the thunder on a gray afternoon. A two-run home run in the fifth, a swing that seemed to slice through the chill, and with it, the Indians found their spark.”
“Down 2–0 after the early innings, Cleveland rallied not with patience, but with conviction. In the sixth, it was the veteran catcher, Willie Cobos, driving a fastball deep into the left-field seats — a two-run shot that broke the game open. Add to that the steady work of first baseman R. Phipps and the ever-dependable Chris Alfonso, and you begin to understand how the Indians transformed a tense duel into a statement victory.”
“On the other side, the Yankees had their chances — thirteen runners left on base, the kind of number that gnaws at a manager long after the final out. Nine hits, five walks, plenty of traffic, but precious little damage. Cleveland’s bullpen — Sandoval and Garcia — was simply too sharp, too poised, too unshakable in the moment.”
“Mike Deming, the Yankees’ right-hander, pitched better than the line might suggest. Seven runs allowed, but only three earned — undone by a fielding miscue, a wet ball, and a lineup that made him work for every inch. It was one of those nights where momentum, once tilted, refused to lean back.”
“And so, as the crowd of 36,000 filed out into the damp Cleveland evening, this series — once teetering on the edge of Yankee control — now finds itself level at one game apiece. The scene shifts next to Yankee Stadium, where the lights, the noise, and the ghosts of October will once again take center stage.”
“The Indians win it, 7–3. The series tied, the drama renewed. This is October baseball — where even the rain feels like part of the story.”

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“Here’s the thing about this game — it was a perfect example of why you can’t ever count the Dodgers out. The Mets come into Dodger Stadium with a 2-0 lead in the series, you think it’s over, you think it’s done, but baseball doesn’t care about your assumptions. It’s a game of timing, talent, and toughness. And today, Los Angeles showed all three.”
“Willie Cortez — 3 for 5, two doubles, three RBIs. He’s not just swinging the bat; he’s changing the narrative. The Dodgers needed a guy like him, a player who can take over the middle innings, and he did it. And then there’s C.J. Rudeseal, stepping up in the seventh, two outs, runners on first and second — doubles in the clutch. That’s championship-level execution right there.”
“Now, let’s talk pitching. The Mets’ starter, J. Pineda, gave it everything he had — 5.2 innings, seven hits allowed, four runs — but when the Dodgers started to pile on, the bullpen couldn’t contain it. Gates came in, and that was the turning point. Baseball is a funny game — a guy can throw a solid outing, still lose. That’s why this sport is so brutally compelling.”
“Bottom line: the Dodgers take it 9-5. The Mets still lead the series 2-1, but momentum has shifted. You feel it in the dugout, you feel it in the stands, you feel it in the way these games start to swing. Tomorrow, same place, same stage — and suddenly, the series feels a lot more alive. That’s why we love October baseball. It’s about comebacks, it’s about heroes, and sometimes, it’s about rewriting the story at the last possible second.”
“Player of the game? No debate — Willie Cortez. That’s the guy you tell your kids about when you talk about clutch October performance.”

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