National Baseball League

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“Ladies and gentlemen, the Cleveland Indians are this close to clinching their third World Series title in five years! Chris Alfonso came up big today at Citi Field — three hits, a homer, two singles, two RBIs, two runs scored — and the Indians roll past the Mets, 10–5, in Game 4.”
“Let me set the scene — top of the eighth, runners on first and second, Cleveland trailing 5–4… Israel Fernandez steps to the plate, and what does he do? A two-run triple into left-center! Suddenly, the Indians take the lead, and from there, it’s all Cleveland. Grand slam energy may have been yesterday, but today? Clutch hitting, timely pitching, and the Mets just can’t keep up.”
“Alfonso’s homer in the fifth off L. Peters gave Cleveland a lead they wouldn’t surrender, Phipps and Kresse chipping in, and Holdcraft adding another blast in the seventh — the Indians are firing on all cylinders! On the mound, S. Ramirez gave them six-plus innings of workmanlike pitching, and the bullpen — Sandoval and Garcia — shut the door.”
“Now, the Mets weren’t going quietly. Stacks scored twice, Brubaker had two RBIs, Contreras drove one in, but it just wasn’t enough. L. Peters took the loss, and by the ninth, the fans at Citi Field — 39,568 brave souls in the rain at 50 degrees — are shaking their heads as Cleveland stretches the lead in this series to 3–1.”
“Folks, it’s almost over for the Mets. Cleveland is one win away from the championship, and if Alfonso and Fernandez keep hitting like this… well, let’s just say someone’s getting their rings real soon!”
“Harry Doyle, calling it as I see it — the Indians are putting on a show, and the Mets? They’ve got a mountain to climb.”

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“Alright, folks, listen to this — the New York Mets are not going quietly here in this 1923 World Series! Jordan Pineda, the right-hander, absolutely dominates Cleveland at Citi Field — seven shutout innings, eight strikeouts, four hits, and he throws the Indians off their rhythm the whole game. Mets win it, 1–0, and suddenly, we’ve got a Game 6. The series is 3–2, and Cleveland’s still on the brink of the championship, but this New York team refuses to go down without a fight!”
“Now, let me tell you something — this is gutsy baseball. Pineda had ‘em frustrated from pitch one. Every time Cleveland thought they were gonna get something going, nope — it’s a fastball here, a curve there, and another strikeout. Mets squeak out the run in the fourth — that’s all they needed. That’s all they needed! Meanwhile, the Indians just could not solve him. Tolo gives up four hits, one run — just can’t get it done, folks. Pineda’s in the zone!”
“And the Mets’ bats? Not a lot of fireworks, but Sloan, Stacks, Contreras — they get the job done. One run is enough when your pitcher’s throwing a masterpiece like that. Hoelzle comes in for the save, shuts the door, and suddenly the Mets are alive again! We’ve got a real series on our hands, and this one’s going down to the wire. Game 6 at Jacobs Field — it’s gonna be insane!”
“Jordan Pineda, ladies and gentlemen, deserves a standing ovation — he just kept Cleveland off balance all day. The Mets aren’t done yet. This is what playoff baseball is all about!”

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Alright, folks, listen to this! Game 6 of the 1923 World Series, New York Mets at Cleveland, and it’s a classic — five to four, Mets. Five to four! Zakaio Eneki goes boom-boom — two home runs, three RBIs, scores twice. The guy’s carrying this team on his back. This series is tied now, 3–3, and it comes down to Game 7, the winner-takes-all. Can you believe it?
And then — get this — Eric McIntyre, pinch hitting, comes through in the top of the ninth. One at-bat, one hit, a run-scoring single to give the Mets the lead. The Mets weren’t just hanging on — they were taking the fight to Cleveland. And the Indians? They had their chances. Niccolai goes eight innings, gives up nine hits, four runs, two home runs — he was solid, but he just couldn’t hold Eneki down.
The pitching, the clutch hitting, the drama — this is playoff baseball, people! Hoelzle comes in for two outs in the ninth, gets the save, and suddenly, it’s all even. Cleveland, the Indians, they’ve got a lot of heart, but the Mets are not going away quietly. Game 7, tomorrow, Jacobs Field — I’m telling you, you do not want to miss this one.
Zakaio Eneki, ladies and gentlemen — Player of the Game. If the Mets win it all, we’re talking about a hero. The series is wide open. Buckle up!

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New York Mets: 1923 World Series champions (3rd title)
1921 1922 1923

Mike: Alright, Dog, here we go — the New York Mets are your 1923 World Series champions! Three in a row! Three! Count ‘em — three straight!
Dog: Mikey, this is unbelievable! Down three games to one! Everyone — EVERYONE — had ‘em buried! Cleveland’s sittin’ there thinkin’ it’s a coronation, and what happens? The Mets rip off three straight and shut ‘em out in Game 7!
Mike: Yeah, you can’t say enough about Bobby Colon. The guy was nails, Dog — seven innings, two hits, five strikeouts, no runs. Didn’t even break a sweat. Just a total bulldog performance.
Dog: Bobby Colon! Bobby freakin’ Colon! And how about Alan Sloan — the MVP! The guy’s hittin’ .368 in the series, nine homers in the postseason! He sets the tone early, first inning, boom! Two-out homer off Galvan — Mets go up 2-0 and never look back!
Mike: That home run was the backbreaker. And listen, the Indians — I mean, what are we doin’ here? Two hits in a Game 7 at home? That’s disgraceful. You’ve got 36,000 fans in Jacobs Field, you’ve got a chance to make history, and you put up a zero.
Dog: ZERO! Zee-ro! That’s what champions don’t do! You can’t win with two hits in your own ballpark! They looked flat, Mike, FLAT!
Mike: Flat as a pancake. And the Mets — this is a dynasty now. There’s no question. Three straight titles, best record in the National League, they’ve got the pitching, they’ve got the lineup, they’ve got the swagger.
Dog: It’s a dynasty, Mikey! I don’t wanna hear from anybody else — not Cleveland, not Chicago, not anybody! The Mets are the team in baseball!
Mike: And by the way — J. Stacks? Two hits, two steals, setting the table. Rosa, solid at short. Contreras with another RBI. Everybody contributed.
Dog: And how about Gonzalez closing it out? Two innings, four strikeouts, boom, boom, boom! Ice water in his veins!
Mike: Dog, the Mets just went into Cleveland, Game 7, cold weather, wind blowing out, everything stacked against ‘em — and they blanked ‘em. Three-nothing. That’s greatness.
Dog: Oh, it’s greatness, Mikey. The Mets — YOUR New York Mets — are a dynasty. Three-peat!
Mike: And let me tell ya — you win three straight World Series? You’re in that conversation now. We’re talkin’ all-time teams.
Dog: Put ‘em up there with the best of ‘em! Put ‘em up there with the Big Red Machine, the late-’90s Yankees, whoever you want!
Mike: The 1923 Mets, Dog — remember it. Three in a row. Parade down Broadway, get the confetti ready.
Dog: Oh, baby, it’s party time in New York!

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Well folks, the ballots are in, the votes are tallied, and the legends are forever! As the curtain falls on another incredible season — one that saw the New York Mets make history with their third straight championship — the spotlight now shifts to those who defined an era.
Five greats, five first-ballot immortals — it’s time to meet your 1923 Hall of Fame Class!
�� 2B Jonathan “Just Too Good” Huskey — 95.7% (1st year)
This guy was smoother than jazz on a Sunday afternoon. Huskey turned double plays faster than you could say “6-4-3,” and oh, could he hit! Whether it was a clutch single in July or a game-breaking double in October, Huskey was a manager’s dream. Just too good? You betcha.
�� CF Caleb “The Showstopper” Carpenter — 95.3% (1st year)
When Carpenter stepped to the plate, you didn’t blink — because if you did, the ball was already gone! Five tools? Nah, this guy brought six. The flair, the glove, the cannon arm, and that light-tower power. Carpenter didn’t just play center field — he commanded it.
�� CL Caleb “Lights Out” Myslinski — 86.3% (1st year)
Bottom of the ninth, two outs, crowd on its feet — enter Myslinski, and cue the lights. Game over. This closer turned leads into locks, seasons into celebrations, and hitters into highlight reel victims. One of the most feared finishers of his time.
�� SS Vo “No-Go” Pham — 83.5% (1st year)
If you hit it anywhere near shortstop, you might as well start walking back to the dugout. Pham’s glove was Velcro with style — slick, smooth, and steady. And when the bat came alive, pitchers learned that “Vo Pham” meant no fam mercy.
�� LF Jimmy “The Real Deal” Shively — 79.1% (1st year)
Shively didn’t need hype — his bat did the talking. Line drives, home runs, clutch hits, you name it. Always cool under pressure, always in the middle of the action. They called him “The Real Deal,” and now he’s got the plaque to prove it.
That’s five first-ballot legends heading to Cooperstown — a class for the ages! ��
From the power of Shively, to the precision of Pham, to the poise of Myslinski — this isn’t just a Hall of Fame class… it’s a highlight reel that never ends.
As for the rest? Matt Degree came close at 57.2%, Mark Makepeace keeps hanging tough in his seventh year, and the rest of the field will have to wait for that golden call.
But for these five? Their time is now.
Their stories are written in the record books — and their names? Etched in bronze forever.
Huskey, Carpenter, Myslinski, Pham, and Shively — welcome to the Hall of Fame!
Because when it comes to baseball greatness…
THESE FIVE JUST WENT… ALL. THE. WAY. ⚾��

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1924 MLB Standings

BOB COSTAS STYLE — 1924 MLB POSTSEASON PREVIEW 🎙️
And so, as the long summer gives way to the chill of October, baseball’s familiar rhythm crescendos once again — but this year, the melody feels just a little bit different.
For three years, the sport has been defined by dominance — the New York Mets, a modern dynasty, capturing three consecutive championships and etching their place among the great runs in the game’s storied past. But in 1924, the music has changed. The Mets, after years of near-perfection, look human. A 90–72 finish — respectable by any measure — but not enough to claim the National League East. And so, for the first time in their reign, they’ll enter October through the side door — a best-of-three Wild Card series against the upstart Cincinnati Reds, a team that believes this might finally be their moment.
Elsewhere in the National League, the landscape has shifted. The Milwaukee Brewers stand tall as baseball’s best, with 105 wins — a franchise record, and a statement of intent. The Braves, long absent from October’s stage, return for the first time since 1913, their 96 victories signaling a revival in Atlanta. Both clubs will rest and wait, as the Dodgers and Diamondbacks renew hostilities in yet another all–NL West October clash. Los Angeles and Arizona — a rematch rich with emotion, and one that promises fireworks in every inning.
In the American League, two old powers continue to cast long shadows. The New York Yankees — 103 wins, still the gold standard, still the measuring stick. And right behind them, the Cleveland Indians, a 100-win campaign that reaffirms their status as baseball’s model of balance and brilliance. These two clubs once again appear destined to collide deep in October — though, as ever, baseball has a way of humbling expectations.
Behind them, the landscape shifts. The Texas Rangers, at 86–76, emerge as AL West champions — a scrappy, resilient bunch who simply refused to go away. Their reward: a Wild Card showdown with the Baltimore Orioles, fresh off a 19–11 slugfest in their play-in victory over Toronto, a game that felt more like a fireworks show than a ballgame.
In the other AL Wild Card, the Kansas City Royals, steady and unflappable, meet the Oakland Athletics — a pair of teams separated by little more than a few lucky bounces, both hungry to make noise against the league’s heavyweights.
So as we embark on another October journey, one question lingers: has the balance of power truly shifted? Have the mighty Mets, the imperious Yankees, and the battle-tested Indians finally come back to the pack? Or, when the dust settles, will experience and championship mettle once again prevail?
The stage is set. The air is crisp. And for the players, the managers, and the fans — this is the month when legends are born, and when baseball reminds us why, after all these years, it still matters so very much.
This… is October. ⚾

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By Grantland Rice
Arlington, Texas — October 8, 1924
It was a bright autumn afternoon upon the Texas plain, where the October sun shone kindly upon the emerald field, and the first great battle of the postseason was waged in all its splendor. The Baltimore Orioles, proud and daring, came bearing the confidence of men who had scored runs in torrents just days before. And through six long innings, it seemed that fortune smiled upon them once again.
They led the Rangers of Texas by a count of five to two — a sturdy margin, fashioned from timely blows and sure hands. Their bats rang like sabers in the early going; Cakir and Delgado struck with precision, and young Reid’s triple in the sixth sent the visiting partisans into full-throated cheer.
But baseball, like the turning of the seasons, seldom grants lasting comfort. The gods of the diamond are fickle patrons — and on this day, they turned their gaze toward the men in blue.
For in the late innings, the Rangers rose as if stirred from a long slumber. Adams tripled, Gaddis doubled, and the murmuring crowd grew into a roar that shook the steel and stone of Globe Life Field. By the ninth, with the score tied and destiny hanging by a thread, Juan Contreras strode to the plate. The man they call “Buddy” met a fastball square upon its seams, and the crack of his bat sang out like a rifle shot echoing across the prairie.
The ball soared into the gap, the runner sped home, and in that instant, Texas was transformed from hopeful to triumphant. A walk-off double — the sweetest of victories, born from courage and faith in the final hour.
“It’s the best feeling when you come through for your teammates,” Contreras said quietly afterward. And in that humble phrase lay the truth of the game itself — that baseball’s glory is found not merely in triumph, but in the shared striving that brings it forth.
So the Rangers take the first step upon the postseason trail, one game to none in this Wild Card affair. For Baltimore, there is still tomorrow — but tonight, beneath the clear Texas sky, the song belongs to the Rangers, and to the man whose bat turned dusk into daylight.

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Ahhh… what a day it was in the American League Wild Card Series — a day that will be remembered for the sound of the bat, the roar of the crowd, and two teams walking it off in storybook fashion.
First, in Texas, the Rangers sent the Baltimore Orioles home with a walk-off double that had fans dancing in the aisles in Arlington. And now, here in Kansas City, the Royals have done it again — a walk-off of their own to stun the Oakland Athletics, three to two, in ten innings.
What a game this was. The crowd of 52,421 saw everything that makes baseball, baseball. The long ball, the strikeout, the daring steal — and in the end, the sweet sound of a double rocketing into the gap to send the hometown fans home happy.
Luis Arriaga — cool and composed — gave the Royals five and a third strong innings. He struck out eight, allowed just two runs, and set the tone. From there, the Kansas City bullpen — Sandoval and González — slammed the door shut like a Kansas twister rolling through the plains.
And then came the bottom of the tenth. Two outs, a man aboard, and Angel Gutierrez stepping to the plate. The count ran deep. The tension built. Jose Quintero reared back, delivered — and Gutierrez laced it down the line in right! The ball rolled to the wall, the runner came flying around third, and by the time the throw came in, Kauffman Stadium was a sea of blue joy.
Angel Gutierrez, the hero. Luis Arriaga, the anchor. And Kansas City — the team with the heart of a champion — takes Game One, three to two, in walk-off fashion.
You could not have written a better script if you tried.
Tomorrow, they’ll be right back here at Kauffman Stadium, where the lights will shine again, the fans will file in, and the air will buzz with the feeling that anything can happen.
Because in baseball — and on a day like this — it usually does.

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OHHHH baby!!! Are you kidding me right now?! THERE. IS. STILL. MAGIC. AT. CITI. FIELD!!
The Mets — the THREE-TIME defending WORLD CHAMPION New York Mets — looked absolutely dead in this one, folks. I mean buried. Down NINE to NOTHING to the Cincinnati freakin’ Reds by the top of the fifth. Fans were heading for the 7 train, people were calling WFAN ready to blow it all up — and then… the comeback of comebacks happened.
Ten — count ’em — TEN unanswered runs!
Two in the fifth to show a pulse. Two more in the sixth to make it interesting. Then — BOOM — a five-run SEVENTH inning to tie it up. Citi Field was rockin’, baby! The towels were flying, the fans were losing their minds, and the Reds? They were lookin’ around like, “What just happened?”
And then in the bottom of the eighth, the man of the hour — Ricardo Clutch Contreras — hits the sac fly to put the Mets in front, 10-9! The place goes absolutely NUTS. And then… the bullpen, somehow, some way, holds it together in the ninth. Ten to nine, your final!
I mean, folks, this is why we love this team. They drive us crazy, they make us scream, they look finished — and then bang, they pull you back in. Ten unanswered runs! It’s unreal.
The dream of four straight championships — still alive, baby. STILL. ALIVE.
Oh, and by the way — how about the bullpen after that disaster start from King and Oceguera? Diaz and Pineda — nails. Absolute nails.
So, yeah, once again… The Mets looked dead, gone, finished — and they come storming back to win it 10-9. You can’t make it up. Only the Mets, folks. Only. The. Mets.
OHHH BABY, LET’S GOOOO!!!

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It was a golden afternoon at Dodger Stadium — the kind of day where the sun dances off the top decks and the crowd hums with that unmistakable October electricity. The Arizona Diamondbacks and Los Angeles Dodgers — two rivals who know each other well — opened their Wild Card Series beneath a soft California sky.
And for the Arizona faithful, it was Gustavo Bojorquez who set the tone. Calm. Composed. Seven strong innings, just four hits, and the poise of a man who’s been here before. Every time the Dodgers seemed ready to stir, Bojorquez found a way to quiet them again.
The Diamondbacks jumped out early — two runs in the first, thanks to a couple of well-struck balls from J. Gonzalez and T. Flores. Los Angeles would chip away, of course. They always do. A solo home run from S. Miller in the fourth, a double from E. Usher that brought the fans to life. But then came the moment that silenced 47,000 at Chavez Ravine.
Top of the fifth — two outs, one on, a one-run game. Giampietro Orlando steps in. The count goes deep. Grater delivers — and Orlando sends one high and deep to left! You can forget it! A two-run homer that lands in the pavilion seats, and just like that, Arizona leads it 5–3. You could almost hear the desert wind blow through the palms beyond the outfield fence.
From there, Bojorquez did the rest — working like a craftsman, pitch by pitch, trusting his defense. The Dodgers made it close in the ninth, a leadoff double from Aviles giving them hope. But closer G. Whaley shut the door, and the Diamondbacks escaped with a 5–4 victory — their first step toward advancing in this young postseason.
And as the crowd filed out into that soft Los Angeles twilight, you had to smile and think — baseball, in all its drama, still finds new ways to surprise us. On this day, it was Arizona’s turn to write the story.