National Baseball League

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1932 HoF

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1932 AL Standings

Mike:
“Alright, Dog, let’s start right here—Tampa Bay Rays. One-oh-five wins. One-oh-five! Top seed in the American League. First playoff appearance in fourteen years and they don’t just sneak in, they take the whole league hostage!”
Dog:
“Mike, nobody—nobody—had this! This came outta nowhere! They weren’t supposed to be a factor, they weren’t supposed to scare anybody, and now they’re sittin’ there with the best record in the AL like they own the joint!”
Mike:
“And now here’s the problem for everybody else, Dog—they got nothin’ to lose. That’s a dangerous team. No scars, no baggage, no October trauma!”
Dog:
“Exactly! They’re playin’ loose! That scares me more than the so-called ‘experienced’ teams!”
Mike:
“Now the two-seed—Cleveland. One-oh-four wins. Quiet. Efficient. Professional.”
Dog:
“Always dangerous, Mike. Always! You don’t wanna see Cleveland in October. They don’t beat themselves, they don’t panic, they don’t implode.”
Mike:
“And they remember 1930. They remember bein’ one strike away. You think that doesn’t sit with them? That’s fuel, Dog.”
Dog:
“Now let’s get to the Wild Card, Mike, ‘cause this is JUICY.”
Mike:
“Oh, it’s delicious.”
Dog:
“Boston at home, one hundred wins—and who do they draw? Anaheim! First playoff appearance in eleven years!”
Mike:
“Ninety-nine wins, Dog! Ninety-nine! This isn’t some fluke team!”
Dog:
“And Boston’s sittin’ there sayin’, ‘We won a hundred games and this is our reward?!’”
Mike:
“But here’s the series everybody’s talkin’ about—Toronto and Houston.”
Dog (immediately):
“UH-OH.”
Mike:
“Exactly. Toronto’s gotta go back to Houston. Same building. Same uniforms. Same memories.”
Dog:
“Mike, how do you erase last year? You were up 8–4 in the ninth inning of Game 7! You were three outs from the World Series!”
Mike:
“And now you gotta face the champs—again—with Dusty Berthiaume still walkin’ around like he owns October!”
Dog:
“I’ll tell ya right now, Mike, this is either redemption… or it breaks Toronto for another decade.”
Mike:
“And let’s not gloss over Houston being the three-seed. One-oh-four wins and they gotta play in the Wild Card.”
Dog:
“That’s brutal! That’s unfair! That’s why this format’s insane!”
Mike:
“But if you’re Toronto, you’re sayin’, ‘Couldn’t we have gotten anybody else?’”
Dog:
“And Mike—real quick—look at the Yankees.”
Mike (dry):
“Seventy-two wins.”
Dog:
“Seventy. Two.”
Mike:
“Season’s over in July.”
Dog:
“Forget October, Mike, they were thinkin’ about spring trainin’ in August!”
Mike:
“So sum it up, Dog—Tampa Bay’s the shocker, Cleveland’s the threat, Houston’s still the boogeyman, and Toronto’s relivin’ a nightmare.”
Dog:
“And somebody—somebody—is gonna get their heart ripped out again, Mike. That’s October baseball!”
Phones are ringing, producers are panicking, and the league feels wide open going into these playoffs 🔥⚾

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1932 NL Standings

When you examine the 1932 National League, what strikes you most is not upheaval—but entrenchment.
At the very top, once again, stand the Atlanta Braves, the league’s #1 seed. Ninety-five wins, another division title, another October with expectations. And right behind them, as predictably as the calendar turning, are the Milwaukee Brewers, the #2 seed. Different seasons, different records—but the same reality. These two franchises continue to receive the byes, and in doing so, they continue to shape the postseason around themselves.
What makes this year especially intriguing is that nothing has changed in terms of personnel.
The same six teams that reached the NL playoffs a year ago are back again. Stability, consistency… and for some, stagnation.
The Wild Card round opens with Washington hosting St. Louis. The Nationals, still a relatively new presence in the October conversation, now find themselves in a familiar position—good enough to contend, but still seeking legitimacy. St. Louis, meanwhile, arrives hardened, unromantic, and entirely comfortable playing the role of spoiler.
The other Wild Card matchup sends Miami to Arizona, a rematch that carries echoes of recent October drama. The Diamondbacks, just two years removed from a championship defined by one of the most stunning ninth innings in World Series history, remain dangerous—if imperfect. Miami, by contrast, continues to live on the edge, surviving seasons by inches and believing, perhaps stubbornly, that this time might be different.
And then there are the New York Mets.
Eighty-seven wins. Two play-in games. Two opportunities to extend their season.
Lose to Miami. Then lose to St. Louis.
For Mets fans, the disappointment is not abstract—it is precise. Win either game, and the Mets are in. Instead, their season ends not with a collapse, but with a pair of doors slammed shut. Close enough to touch October. Not close enough to enter.
So as the 1932 NL playoffs begin, the story is not one of chaos or revolution. It is one of familiar powers, recurring contenders, and persistent frustration.
The question, as always, is whether this October will finally disrupt the order—or simply reinforce it.

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ANA vs. BOS

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TOR vs. HOU

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Okay, so this was one of those classic Fenway October afternoons where you look up in the second inning, the game already feels over, and you start mentally inventorying how many beers you’ve had versus how many you should have had.
Red Sox 13, Angels 6, Wild Card Game 1, and honestly the score doesn’t even capture how inevitable this felt once Ethan Williams went full “Oh right, this is my park” mode.
Let’s start here:
Williams went 2-for-3 with TWO homers, a walk, got plunked, scored three times, drove in SIX runs, and basically authored the entire game by himself before Anaheim finished settling into their seats. This was one of those performances where the opposing dugout is staring at the ceiling thinking, “Is this really happening to us?”
The moment—the moment—was the bottom of the second. Two outs. Bases loaded. Danny Cespedes throws a changeup that probably looked great on paper. Williams hits it into the Massachusetts atmosphere for a grand slam, Fenway detonates, and suddenly it’s 7–1, season-on-the-line panic time for Anaheim. Game over? Not technically. Emotionally? Absolutely.
And here’s the thing that made it even more brutal:
Anaheim wasn’t even playing badly! They had 11 hits, Justin Woodfin homered twice, and they kept trying to claw back. But every time they did, Boston answered with another punch. It was like watching someone keep getting up after a knockout only to immediately eat another right hook.
Also worth noting:
This is why the Red Sox wanted the home game. Fenway in October isn’t just a park—it’s a psychological experiment. The crowd smelled blood early, and once that second-inning slam landed, it was relentless. Every at-bat felt like it mattered. Every fly ball got an extra half-second of hope.
And yeah, Tommy Colin wasn’t exactly Pedro out there—five runs, three homers—but this was one of those “survive, don’t star” playoff starts. He gave them innings. He gave them a chance to let the lineup cook. That’s all Boston needed.
But let’s circle back to Williams, because this is how playoff legends get started. Two homers, including a grand slam, in your first Wild Card game? That’s the kind of box score you keep seeing referenced for the next 20 years whenever someone asks, “What was his coming-out party?”
Anaheim now has to wake up tomorrow knowing:
They burned their starter
They got Fenway’d
And they ran into a guy who turned Game 1 into his own personal highlight reel
Boston’s up 1–0, and suddenly this series has that familiar Red Sox October feeling—equal parts confidence and don’t-jinx-it anxiety. But for one afternoon, at least, it felt simple:
Ethan Williams showed up. Fenway followed. Anaheim never recovered.

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Alright, let’s just call this what it was: Houston didn’t dominate—Houston survived. And there’s a difference. A big one.
Astros 10, Blue Jays 9, Game 1 of the Wild Card, and if you’re Toronto, you’re walking back to the clubhouse thinking, “How did this happen to us again?”
Because here’s the pattern—and patterns matter.
Toronto out-hit Houston 17 to 13. They scored nine runs. They showed zero fear in that building. And yet… same ending, same city, same emotional punch to the gut. Houston walks off the field with the win, and Toronto is left replaying innings in their head like a bad dream.
That’s not random. That’s psychological.
Let’s talk about Houston first. This is why they’re dangerous. They don’t need everything to be perfect. Their pitching was shaky. Their defense kicked the ball around. The game was chaos. And when chaos shows up? They don’t flinch.
Ben Callender—that guy—3-for-4, homer, double, three RBIs. Not flashy quotes, not loud. Just professional production. Every great team has one of those guys who shows up in messy games and quietly takes your soul.
And then there’s the third inning. If you’re Toronto, this inning is your villain origin story.
Curtis. Berthiaume. Sanchez. Boom, boom, boom. Three homers. Six runs. And suddenly the Astros go from “hanging around” to “owning the game.” That’s championship muscle memory. That’s a team that knows exactly when to strike.
Now let’s talk about Toronto, because this is where it gets uncomfortable.
They didn’t choke. This wasn’t a collapse. This was worse.
They played well enough to win… and still lost.
That’s when doubt creeps in. You score three in the ninth. You put pressure on Houston again. You make the crowd nervous. And it still doesn’t flip. That’s when a team starts pressing. That’s when history starts whispering.
Houston didn’t look invincible. But they looked inevitable.
And that’s the difference between a good team and a team that owns October. One survives games it probably shouldn’t. The other spends the offseason wondering how it keeps ending this way.
Game 1 to Houston. Toronto’s running out of emotional margin for error. And the scariest part?
Houston hasn’t even played their best game yet.

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STL vs. WSH

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Well, folks, what a way to open the Wild Card series at Nationals Park this afternoon. The Washington Nationals took a 10–7 victory over the St. Louis Cardinals, but it wasn’t just a score—it was a symphony of hits, swings, and a little bit of that October magic that only comes once a year.
Carlos Gutierrez, right fielder for the Nationals, was the man of the hour. He went 2-for-4 with two homers and a walk, drove in three runs, and scored twice. And if you were there for his at-bat in the bottom of the seventh, runner on second, two outs… well, that 2-run homer turned the game on its head. The kind of swing that makes you lean forward in your seat and say, “This is why we watch October baseball.”
Now, the game itself was a seesaw. St. Louis struck first in the second inning, Washington answered, and then, in the middle innings, it turned into something of a slugfest. By the sixth inning, the Nationals had tacked on four more runs, thanks to a little help from the long ball—Jankowski, Martinez, and McLaren all sending baseballs out of the park in rapid succession.
And for St. Louis, it wasn’t that they weren’t trying. R. Martinez hit two homers, and Jankowski had one of his own. They fought, they clawed, they made it interesting. But it was Gutierrez who had that quiet, steady hand at the tiller, guiding the Nationals through the storm.
On the mound, D. Stewart for St. Louis battled valiantly, giving up seven runs over six and two-thirds innings, while the Nationals’ J. Quintero did his best to keep things close before B. Ray and J. Motis came in to close it down.
And so the Nationals take Game 1, and they do it in that classic, almost cinematic style that makes you remember why we love this game. There’s tension, there’s drama, and at the center of it all, a player who seems to rise to the occasion when the stakes are highest.
As the sun sets over D.C., the Nationals lead the series 1–0, and if there’s one thing October reminds us, it’s that no lead is safe, no game decided, until the final out is recorded. But for today, the spotlight shines on Carlos Gutierrez, and oh, what a light it is.

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MIA vs. ARZ

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Alright, let’s break this down. Arizona Diamondbacks vs. Miami Marlins, Game 1 of the Wild Card series, and the D-backs absolutely dominate, 11–3. Look, this isn’t just a win—it’s a statement. Arizona came out swinging and never let up.
Brian Rekstad—he’s the guy. 3-for-5, a triple, two singles, three RBIs, scores twice. The guy is literally the engine for this team right now. And don’t sleep on Jose Chapa, who’s already showing why he’s one of the premier power threats in the National League. He goes yard in the first, drives in four, and suddenly you’re thinking, “Wait a second—this Arizona lineup might be better than people expected.”
Miami? They had flashes—J. Henson with a solo homer, Maxwell driving in a couple—but this pitching staff just couldn’t hold the line. D. Kawasaki gets shelled early, and from that point, it was all Arizona. That’s a classic playoff kill shot—you give them one inch, they take a mile.
This game tells you everything about the series: momentum? Arizona owns it. Confidence? Rekstad is riding high. And Miami? They’re going to have to dig deep, because if you think you’re just going to come into Chase Field and steal one, you’re dreaming.
Bottom line: Arizona takes Game 1, and they take it emphatically. If you’re a D-backs fan, you’re smiling. If you’re a Marlins fan, you’re looking at a long day tomorrow. This team is built for October, and they just reminded everybody of it.
We’ll see if Miami can answer—but right now, the D-backs are sending a very clear message: we’re not just here to play, we’re here to win.

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The Boston Red Sox sweep the Anaheim Angels in the AL Wild Card Series, and frankly, they make it look easier than most expected. Three games, three wins, and the way they handled Anaheim, it wasn’t just talent—it was execution, timing, and confidence.
Ethan Williams—the story of the series. .500 with four home runs, ten RBIs, five runs scored, and a .600 on-base percentage. That’s not just good, that’s dominant. When your third baseman is hitting like that, it changes the dynamic of every at-bat, every pitch. He earned MVP honors hands down.
Boston’s offense wasn’t one-dimensional either. You’ve got D. Jimenez, A. Wagner, M. Croke—all contributing in big spots. They were aggressive, they were smart, they put pressure on the Angels’ pitching staff from the first inning. And speaking of pitching, M. Philippon held Anaheim at bay for 7+ innings, and K. Simmons closes it out clean. That’s textbook postseason baseball: push early, protect leads, and don’t give your opponent a chance to breathe.
On the flip side, Anaheim had moments—J. Woodfin, B. Aguilar—but it wasn’t enough. Too many mistakes, too many missed opportunities. In the playoffs, you get punished for that, and Boston did exactly that.
Now Boston moves on to face Tampa Bay in the Division Series, and this sweep gives them momentum, confidence, and the belief that they can handle adversity. They weren’t just beating Anaheim—they were sending a message: we’re built for October, and we’re not slowing down anytime soon.
If you’re a Red Sox fan, you’re feeling good. If you’re Tampa Bay, you know you’re in for a fight. And if you’re just watching baseball, you’re seeing a team firing on all cylinders at the right time. This is why we watch the playoffs.

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Toronto and Houston just treated us to a slugfest for the ages. I mean, 17-14? Seventeen runs for Toronto, fourteen for Houston—this was not a pitching duel, this was a statement game. And in the middle of all that chaos, Mauro Polidori—the Blue Jays catcher—was a wrecking ball. Five hits, including two homers, two doubles, six RBIs, three runs scored. He ties the Toronto playoff game record for hits. That’s not just stepping up, that’s taking over a game in a way that changes the series.
And it wasn’t just him. Devin Thorn, G. Diaz, S. Starrett—all contributing at key moments. Toronto scored five in the third, nine in the sixth. The timing of these big innings? Perfect. They came when Houston was trying to breathe, trying to get back into it, and Toronto said: “Nope, not today.”
Houston? They hung in there. You’ve got Josh Curtis, Dusty Berthiaume, Callender, Perez—all putting up massive numbers. But Toronto just had answers every time. That top of the sixth inning, Devin Thorn’s two-run double to go up 9-7—that’s the kind of clutch hit that swings momentum.
What stands out to me, from a series perspective, is how wild this is for Game 2 of a best-of-three. Nobody’s giving an inch. You want offense? This is offense. You want drama? This is drama. And now, everything comes down to Game 3 back in Houston. Both teams leave nothing behind—everything’s in front of us. And one thing’s for sure: whoever wins tomorrow, they’re battle-tested, battle-worn, and battle-ready for the next round.
Mauro Polidori gets the player of the game nod, but really, this was a team effort with all the fireworks you want in October baseball. Buckle up—Game 3 is going to be insane.

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St. Louis Cardinals come in, and they make a statement. Game 2 of the Wild Card Series, and they force a 1-1 tie with an 8-5 road win over the Nationals. And at the center of it all? Jose Dominguez, the shortstop. This guy went 3-for-5 with two home runs, four RBIs, two runs scored. The first inning, no one out, he launches a 2-run homer off Sean Jenkins to put the Cardinals up 3-0. That’s the kind of start that sets the tone for the entire game.
Dominguez adds another homer in the third, keeps the Nationals off balance, keeps them reacting instead of acting. And that’s what October baseball is all about—you force your opponent to play your game, and the Cardinals did just that.
Now, the Nationals fought back—homers from Collie, Mackey, Celauro—but it wasn’t enough. St. Louis had timely hitting across the board: Alvarez, McLaren, Martinez—everyone contributing when it counted. And V. Lujan on the mound? Six-plus innings, gave up four runs, but he hung in there and let the offense do its thing.
Bottom line: St. Louis showed they can win on the road, they can swing the bat in clutch moments, and they can put pressure on a Nationals team that thought they had some momentum. Game 3 tomorrow in D.C.—it’s all tied up, winner takes the series. And mark my words, if Dominguez keeps swinging like that, the Cardinals are very hard to stop.
Player of the game? No debate—Jose Dominguez. Big swings, big moments, big impact. That’s playoff baseball.