National Baseball League

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Harry Doyle:
Well, hello again, everybody! If you just tuned in—don’t touch that dial!—because the Houston Astros have turned Jacobs Field into their own personal fireworks display! Eighteen runs, nineteen hits, and folks… they’re still swinging!
Colin Cowherd:
Let’s stop pretending this was close. Cleveland jumped out early, sure—but that just woke Houston up. This is what elite teams do: they absorb a punch, then throw ten back. The Astros didn’t panic. They punished.
Harry:
Seven runs in the second inning alone! Seven! That’s not an inning—that’s a statement! And leading the parade was Xavier Garcia, who tonight looked like he was hitting with a beach ball and a howitzer.
Colin:
Garcia was inevitable. Five hits. Three home runs. Six RBIs in this game—and ten hits in the series. That’s not a hot streak; that’s ownership. When you talk about playoff stars, this is the guy who makes the other dugout start checking flight schedules.
Harry:
Everywhere you looked, Astros were rounding the bases! Triples! Homers! Line drives whistling past infielders like they had somewhere better to be! And when Kase Van Cleve cleared the bases in the third—my goodness!—even the hot dog vendors stopped to watch.
Colin:
Houston’s lineup is unfair when it gets rolling. You’ve got Garcia crushing souls, Berthiaume looming, Curtis delivering late, Noble adding damage—this is a lineup that doesn’t let pitchers exhale. Cleveland kept changing arms, and Houston just kept changing the score.
Harry:
The Indians made a run in the eighth—four runs, crowd comes alive—but by then the Astros had already put this one in a locked briefcase and mailed it express! Curtis even threw in a late home run for good measure, because why not?
Colin:
That Cleveland rally? Cosmetic. Houston had already decided the outcome. This was a series that felt like it would go three games—and then Game 3 arrived and Houston reminded everyone who they are: the most dangerous Wild Card team in the league.
Harry:
Final score—count ’em—18 to 9! The Astros win it, take the series two games to one, and they are headed to the Division Series! And if you’re keeping track at home, that’s Xavier Garcia tying a franchise playoff record with five hits! Five!
Colin:
Now here’s the part everyone’s missing: Anaheim had the bye. That’s nice. But Houston’s rolling. Rhythm beats rest in October more often than people admit. If I’m the Angels, I’m not thrilled. This is a confident, battle-tested team playing loose—and loose teams break favorites.
Harry:
So long from Cleveland, folks! The Astros are moving on, the bats are still warm, and somewhere out there… another pitching staff is getting very, very nervous!

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Hou vs. Cle

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1933 MLB Division Series

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NL Top Seeds

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Colin Cowherd:
Alright, here’s the headline: the bye matters. Atlanta sat, rested, watched St. Louis survive a war… and then punched them in the mouth. This is what fresh, dominant teams do to hot teams. You don’t ease in—you impose.
John Madden:
Yeah, see, here’s the thing. You get a guy like Eddie Quizhpe, and when he’s seeing the ball like this, boom—whap!—it’s just coming off the bat different. You don’t have to overthink it. If you throw it there, he’s gonna hit it there. And he did it three times.
Cowherd:
Three home runs. Five RBIs. Game over by the second inning. That cutter in the second? That’s a mistake pitch to the wrong guy at the worst time. You can’t do that against Atlanta. That’s how this thing snowballs.
Madden:
And look, when you’re a pitcher and you’re facing a lineup like this, you can’t say, “Well maybe I’ll sneak one by.” You sneak one by, and—BOOM!—now you’re down six-nothing and the crowd’s going nuts. That’s not sneaking, that’s donating.
Cowherd:
This Braves lineup is built to punish weakness. Rivera hits two. McKnight hits two. Quizhpe hits three. That’s not randomness—that’s depth. That’s why Atlanta won 111 games. You get past one guy, there’s another guy waiting with a hammer.
Madden:
Yeah, and you watch Sandoval on the mound, and he’s doing the opposite. He’s throwing strikes, he’s not giving in, and he’s saying, “You gotta earn it.” Seven-plus innings, no walks—that’s pitching. That’s how you let your hitters relax.
Cowherd:
St. Louis actually didn’t play terribly at the plate—nine hits, three homers—but this was one of those games where the scoreboard lies about competitiveness. The Cardinals were always chasing. Atlanta controlled the tempo from pitch one.
Madden:
And once you’re chasing, you start swinging different. You start pressing. You go up there thinking, “I gotta get three runs right now.” And baseball doesn’t work like that. You get one swing at a time—and Atlanta took all the good ones.
Cowherd:
This is exactly why people talk about inevitability with the Braves. They’re rested, they’re powerful, and they don’t need chaos to win. They just line up, execute, and overwhelm you.
Madden:
Yeah, and when a guy ties a playoff record with three homers, that’s not subtle. That’s just saying, “This is my day.” And Eddie Quizhpe? This was his day.
Cowherd:
Game 1 to Atlanta. Message sent. If you’re St. Louis, you regroup. If you’re the Braves? You keep doing exactly this—because when you play like this, there’s no mystery to it.
Madden:
Exactly. You hit the ball hard, you pitch the ball well… and usually, you win the game. And that’s what happened here.

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Colin Cowherd:
Here’s the thing: this is why you watch baseball in October. The Brewers didn’t just win—they dictated tempo. Three home runs from Manny Escobar, five total RBI, and the game ends on a ninth-inning walk-off from Alejandro Rivera. That’s not luck. That’s precision. That’s taking advantage of a shaky San Francisco pitching staff that threw 7 homers worth of mistakes in, what, five innings? Yeah, five innings.
Bob Uecker:
I tell ya, I’ve been around baseball a long time, and I haven’t seen a guy hit three homers in a playoff game since my Uncle Ralph tried to hit batting practice—only difference is, Manny Escobar actually made contact! The crowd’s going wild, people are jumping over seats… I think one guy spilled his hot dog in excitement. Yeah, that’s baseball, folks!
Cowherd:
Let’s be real. You can’t give a guy like Escobar fastballs in the zone and expect to survive. And C. Swinford, the Giants’ starter, he’s got to be thinking, “I just need one out.” And Milwaukee’s saying, “No, no, no—you’re not getting one.” That’s the difference between regular season and postseason execution.
Uecker:
Oh, I love this. You’ve got J. Morales on the mound in the ninth, he’s thinking, “I got this.” Next thing you know—BAM!—Alejandro Rivera hits a homer! I thought it was a foul ball at first. Nope! It’s gone. And the guy who caught it? He’s looking for a glove. Didn’t have one.
Cowherd:
This is also a textbook case of momentum and matchups. Milwaukee plays aggressive, they exploit weak spots in San Francisco’s lineup, and they close with a clutch hitter at the plate. That’s the kind of execution that makes you a 100-win team in the regular season and gives you playoff teeth.
Uecker:
And don’t forget, there’s base stealing, there’s doubles, there’s three-run homers… I lost track of what inning we’re in! I think we’re in the ninth, or maybe the first—I don’t know, the scoreboard’s spinning. But one thing’s for sure: the Brewers won. And if you’re a fan, it’s a good day to cheer!
Cowherd:
Game 1 to Milwaukee, series 1-0, and the message is loud and clear: don’t sleep on their power and depth. Escobar set the tone. Rivera finished the sentence. The Giants better adjust, because this team is not forgiving mistakes.
Uecker:
Yeah, and remember, if you see me behind the broadcast booth, I might be the only guy laughing and crying at the same time. That’s playoff baseball, folks!

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AL Top 2 Seeds

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Colin Cowherd:
Here’s what you’ve got to understand about this game: Toronto didn’t just squeak by Tampa Bay—they took it in Game 1. Josh Peterson, one at-bat, one home run, four RBIs. That’s not a fluke. That’s a statement. And German Diaz? Clutch hitting in the ninth to put Toronto ahead 9-8. That’s the kind of execution that wins playoff games.
The Rays? They had opportunities, they had triples, they had home runs, but they couldn’t finish. They left runners on base, made errors, and allowed Toronto to control the final at-bats. That’s not a good formula if you want to win a series.
Mike Francesa:
Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you’re gonna sit there and say this was some sort of moral victory for Tampa Bay. They gave up a 5-run lead in the ninth! A 5-run lead! You don’t do that in October! You want to talk about mistakes? E. Crismond with two errors? I’ve seen better fielding in sandlot games!
Cowherd:
Exactly. And this isn’t just a fluky win—Toronto had balance all over the lineup. Horn, Peterson, Starrett, Thorn, Diaz… they all contributed. The pitching held long enough, even though Williams struggled in the later innings. They leaned on Curtis in the ninth to close it. That’s smart roster management.
Francesa:
Roster management? Listen, I don’t care if your bullpen has three Cy Young winners. If your closer gives up a tying double in the ninth, it’s not management—it’s panic! Tampa Bay had the lead, they had chances, and they blew it. That’s on them, not the umpires, not the weather, not the fans—they blew it!
Cowherd:
But here’s the takeaway: the Blue Jays set the tone. A road win, 12-8, opening game of the Division Series. You can’t understate that. They scored when it mattered. They executed. That’s playoff baseball in a nutshell.
Francesa:
Yeah, yeah, you can spin it however you want, but if you’re Tampa Bay, you go home, you look at the film, and you ask, how the hell did we let this happen? Josh Peterson only had one at-bat and basically put the Rays in a coffin with one swing! One swing, that’s all it takes in the playoffs.
Cowherd:
Bottom line: Toronto takes Game 1. Tampa Bay has to respond. And unless they tighten up their pitching and stop leaving guys in scoring position, they’re in trouble. Toronto’s offense isn’t slowing down.
Francesa:
I’ll say this: if you’re Tampa Bay, get your act together. If you don’t, Toronto walks out of Florida and says, thanks for the win, see you tomorrow. That’s the way it is.

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Colin Cowherd:
Okay, folks, let’s get this straight. Houston beats Anaheim 17-13 in Game 1 of the Division Series. Seventeen runs! That’s not baseball, that’s a fireworks show. Dusty Berthiaume? Three home runs, seven RBIs. He’s doing things that’ll go down in Astros postseason history. And Ben Callender comes up in the eighth and smacks a three-run shot to put Houston ahead. Clutch hitting in a high-scoring slugfest—this is playoff baseball, and Houston came ready.
Now Anaheim? They scored 13 runs! Thirteen! And still lost? That’s not luck, that’s seven errors—seven! I mean, you can’t win games in October when your defense looks like a Little League team. Every time you try to cover one mistake, another one pops up.
Mad Dog Russo:
Seven errors, seven! Are you kidding me?! You’re playing in Angel Stadium, the crowd’s alive, it’s October, and these guys are throwing the ball around like it’s a carnival! I’ve seen bad plays in my life, but this—this is historic incompetence. And let me tell ya, it doesn’t matter how many runs you hit, if your infield looks like it’s auditioning for a circus act, you’re toast!
Dusty Berthiaume—look at this guy—three home runs, seven RBIs. He’s hitting like a man possessed! Every time he steps in the box, it’s a highlight reel. And Houston’s offense all around? X. Garcia, M. Noble, A. Perez—they’re not letting up. Meanwhile, Anaheim’s out there making mental errors and throwing games away.
Cowherd:
Exactly. You can’t overstate the importance of defense in playoff baseball. Anaheim left themselves no margin for error, literally. And when you have a pitching line like D. Cespedes giving up eight runs in four innings? That’s not just bad pitching, that’s handing Houston the keys. This game was wild, no doubt, but Houston executed in the clutch, and Anaheim… well, they gifted it.
Mad Dog Russo:
Gifted it? They wrapped it, tied a bow on it, and handed it over! I mean, six errors in one game—okay fine, maybe it’s baseball chaos—but seven?! Come on! And they still managed 13 runs! That’s how insane this game was. Dusty Berthiaume is gonna sleep like a baby tonight, and Anaheim’s gonna wake up asking themselves what the hell just happened.
Cowherd:
Bottom line: Houston takes Game 1, Anaheim has to regroup fast. If they don’t clean up the defense, this series is going to be a long, painful October. Offense can only take you so far—you can’t win a playoff series if you’re turning the ball over like that.
Mad Dog Russo:
No kidding! I’ve been around this game a long time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a team shoot themselves in the foot seven times and still score 13 runs. That’s how you know Houston came prepared, and Anaheim… well, they’re gonna need a miracle for Game 2.

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Colin Cowherd:
This is why Atlanta is Atlanta. This is why they scare people. You can play well against them—St. Louis did. You can score runs—eight of them. You can hit home runs, you can come into their building loose, confident, thinking you belong. And then, right when the game tilts toward chaos, Atlanta calmly reminds you who’s in charge.
Nine–eight Braves. Series lead, two games to none. And Eddie Quizhpe? That’s a star announcing himself in October. Two home runs, four RBIs, every swing feeling heavier than the last. Big players don’t just show up in big moments—they define them. That’s what happened here.
Bob Costas:
There is a rhythm to postseason baseball in Atlanta, and on Sunday afternoon it unfolded once again. The Cardinals were persistent, resilient, and for long stretches, entirely credible. They did not wilt. They did not make mistakes. They simply encountered a team that understands precisely when the game must be taken—not borrowed, not survived, but seized.
Quizhpe’s home runs did more than change the score. They altered the emotional balance of the afternoon. Each time St. Louis edged ahead, Atlanta responded not with urgency, but with certainty.
Cowherd:
And look—this wasn’t a collapse by St. Louis. That’s important. This wasn’t sloppy baseball. This wasn’t giveaways. This was Atlanta saying, you can play your best, and it still might not be enough. Bobby Nunez’s triple in the eighth? That’s veteran timing. That’s knowing the moment. And then the floodgates open just enough.
That’s what dynasties do. They don’t dominate every inning. They dominate the decisive ones.
Costas:
The Cardinals leave Truist Park having done many things well. Luis Alvarez collected three doubles, tying a postseason record. McLaren and Jankowski supplied power. And yet, they find themselves on the brink of elimination.
Atlanta, meanwhile, continues to look less like a team navigating a playoff series and more like one fulfilling a familiar obligation. Their manager spoke afterward of not tinkering, of continuity, of trust—and that may be the most revealing sentiment of all. This franchise does not chase October moments. It expects them.
Cowherd:
Here’s the larger picture: Atlanta doesn’t beat itself. And if you don’t beat yourself, the opponent eventually blinks. St. Louis hasn’t blinked yet—but they’re running out of time.
Game 3 shifts to Busch Stadium, but the pressure? That’s traveling with the Cardinals. Atlanta knows exactly who it is. And right now, they’re one win away from reminding the league—again—that inevitability isn’t a myth. It’s a pattern.
Costas:
October is often remembered not for the teams that resist longest, but for the ones that prevail with an air of calm authority. On this afternoon in Atlanta, that authority belonged unmistakably to the Braves.

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Colin Cowherd:
Here’s the truth about playoff baseball that fans hate hearing: sometimes your guy is great, sometimes your team is not. Edgar Perdomo was brilliant. Four hits. A home run. Every big swing San Francisco needed. And it still didn’t matter.
Milwaukee wins 8–6. Series lead, two games to none. And now the word nobody in San Francisco wants to hear is starting to float around—sweep.
This is what good teams do. They don’t panic. They don’t flinch when an opposing player has the game of his life. They just keep stacking competent at-bats until the pressure shifts.
Bob Costas:
Perdomo’s performance deserved a better fate. Four hits in five trips, the lone Giant who seemed to command the afternoon. Yet baseball, especially in October, has always been indifferent to individual excellence when it is not supported by collective force.
Milwaukee did not dominate this game early. Instead, they lingered. They stayed within reach. And in doing so, they allowed the moment to arrive naturally—inevitably.
Cowherd:
Look at how the Brewers win games. They don’t need one hero. Yesterday it was Escobar. Today it’s a little of everything—Harrington’s RBI single, Stephenson grinding out runs, and then that eighth inning? Boom. Three homers. Door closed.
That’s roster depth. That’s maturity. That’s a team that understands leverage innings.
San Francisco? Too many stranded runners. Too many “almost” moments. And when Joaquin Morales came in for that eighth, Milwaukee smelled blood.
Costas:
The Brewers’ eighth inning was decisive not simply because of the home runs, but because of their sequencing. Rivera, Occhipinti, Gonzalez—three swings, three reminders that this lineup does not rely on chance. It applies sustained pressure until resistance collapses.
American Family Field, already animated, became something closer to assured. The crowd sensed it before the final out—this series had tilted decisively.
Cowherd:
And here’s the bigger takeaway: Milwaukee plays relaxed playoff baseball. That’s dangerous. They’re not chasing moments; they’re expecting them. San Francisco is pressing. Milwaukee is waiting.
Now the Giants go home, yes—but they go home needing three straight wins against a team that hasn’t blinked once.
Costas:
History suggests how unforgiving this position can be. Teams trailing two games to none often speak of urgency. The Brewers, by contrast, speak with their bats.
On a cool October afternoon in Milwaukee, they did not overwhelm the Giants. They simply outlasted them. And now, with the series shifting west, Milwaukee carries not just momentum—but control.
Perdomo was the player of the game. The Brewers, unmistakably, remain the team of the series.

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Colin Cowherd:
I’m gonna say it right off the top: this is exactly why Tampa Bay got the bye. You give them a punch, they don’t flinch — they punch back harder. Rays win it 10–7, series tied 1–1, and Austin Montes just owned the afternoon.
Four hits. Homer. Triple. Three RBIs. Running wild. This wasn’t a hot streak — this was a statement. This is a center fielder saying, “You came into my building, and now you’re leaving with regrets.”
Chris Russo:
Oh stop it, Colin, you’re acting like Toronto got run outta the park. They scored seven runs! They hit three homers! They were right there in the sixth inning — tied the game, crowd tight, Rays sweating!
Then what happens? Toronto pitching collapses like a cheap lawn chair. You cannot give up 17 hits in a playoff game and expect to survive. That’s Little League stuff.
Cowherd:
But that’s the point, Chris. Tampa forces chaos. They don’t wait for mistakes — they manufacture them. First inning? Boom. Abrego leads it off with a homer. Kendrick rips a two-run triple. Before Toronto even settles in, it’s 4–1.
That’s playoff tone-setting. And Toronto? They’re chasing the game all afternoon.
Russo:
Yeah but let’s not let Tampa’s pitching off the hook either. Wily Diaz was terrible! Seven runs in five innings, three homers allowed — if this is April, he’s in the bullpen by May. If Toronto had any bullpen backbone, this is a different game.
But Truelove comes in? Nails. Bancroft closes it? Ice water. That’s the difference. Tampa has answers late.
Cowherd:
Exactly. Depth. Tampa’s whole identity is options. Diaz struggles? Fine. Truelove bridges it. Bancroft slams the door. Meanwhile Toronto’s running out Aragon and Hedin like it’s a spring training experiment.
You can’t give up triples, homers, stolen bases — and free passes — in October. That’s baseball malpractice.
Russo:
And Montes — I mean, come on. Triple in the first, homer in the third, stealing bags like it’s 1933 track and field. Toronto couldn’t keep him off the bases, couldn’t keep him in the park, couldn’t slow him down.
That’s a guy who smells blood. Player of the Game, no argument.
Cowherd:
Now here’s the big-picture takeaway: Toronto did what road teams are supposed to do. They split. But Tampa reminded everyone why this series is dangerous.
This wasn’t clean. This wasn’t pretty. But this was Tampa Bay saying, “You’re not outscoring us twice in a row.”
Russo:
And now it shifts to Toronto, which I love. Crowd’ll be nuts, pressure swings back, and suddenly the Rays gotta play without the Trop advantage.
But if Toronto doesn’t tighten up that pitching? This thing flips back to Tampa real fast.
Cowherd:
Game 3’s the swing game. Momentum’s neutral. But confidence? That belongs to Tampa.
Because when chaos breaks out — the Rays don’t panic.
They thrive in it. 😤⚾

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Colin Cowherd:
I don’t even know where to start, Chris, because Houston put on an offensive clinic today. Anaheim thought they were ready for October, thought they could hang — and then Matt Johnston went out there and just annihilated that notion.
Four runs scored, six RBIs, two homers, a walk — and a grand slam in the seventh inning to basically put the game out of reach. The Astros just look unstoppable right now. 22 runs, 20 hits. I mean, that’s not a score, that’s a statement.
Vin Scully:
And, Colin, it really is a storybook afternoon, isn’t it? The sun over Angel Stadium, the gentle wind carrying balls out toward left field, and Matt Johnston rounding the bases with that grand slam in the seventh. You could feel the crowd’s collective inhale, and then the exhale as he touched home. There’s something timeless about moments like that, isn’t there? Baseball in its purest form.
Cowherd:
Yeah, I get that, Vin, but let’s be real — this was brutal on Anaheim. You give up 22 runs in a playoff game? That’s not about bad luck; that’s about Houston’s offense being elite. Curtis, Berthiaume, Van Cleve, Callender — all of them contributing, all of them dangerous. Anaheim’s pitchers were getting bombarded, and even their late relievers couldn’t stop the bleeding.
Scully:
And yet, you notice the resilience. Anaheim had moments — Aguilar, Vazquez, Todd — they made it interesting in the later innings. Ten runs isn’t nothing. But Houston, Colin, Houston just had that extra gear today. It’s the kind of game you’ll remember years from now, not just for the scoreboard, but for the rhythm, the speed, the precision of it all.
Cowherd:
I’ll tell you what this game really tells me: Houston is on a mission. They didn’t just win, they taught a lesson. And Johnston? He’s the kind of player you want leading your team in October. He’s the guy who can take over a game and make it look easy.
Scully:
It is a pleasure to watch a player like Johnston, Colin. Every swing, every run, every stolen base — it’s poetry in motion. Baseball has a way of giving us moments of joy that transcend the statistics, and today, the Astros and Johnston provided exactly that.
Cowherd:
Bottom line, Chris: Astros 2–0. Anaheim’s reeling. Game 3 in Houston? It’s going to be a blowtorch of a series, and Johnston’s showing us why he’s the guy you mark down when the pressure is at its peak.
Scully:
And we will all be watching, my friends, as Houston takes the field Wednesday, the crowd buzzing, the afternoon sun warm, and the game of baseball — in all its glory — unfolding, one pitch, one swing at a time.

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Colin Cowherd:
Joe, if you’re looking for a performance that says “we’re not done yet”, the St. Louis Cardinals just delivered it in spades. Eighteen runs, 22 hits, three home runs from Luis Alvarez, and suddenly the Braves’ stranglehold on this series is not nearly as tight as it looked yesterday. This is the kind of offensive explosion that reminds you why October baseball is different.
Joe Buck:
Absolutely, Colin. You could feel it from the very first inning. Isaiah Stephens kicks things off with a two-run single, and then the Cardinals never stop swinging. Luis Alvarez, three homers, four runs scored, four RBIs — you just can’t ignore that. The Braves’ pitching staff was chased early and often, and once St. Louis found their rhythm, it became a runaway train.
Cowherd:
And let’s not overthink it — this was a complete team assault. Gonzago, Jankowski, McLaren, Stephens — everyone was contributing. When you’re hitting the ball out of the park like that, when you’re moving runners over, driving them in — that’s a message. Atlanta’s got to regroup, because this series just became dangerous for them.
Buck:
From a pure broadcast perspective, Colin, the story is in the sequence. McKnight starts the Braves with a couple early homers, trying to keep them in it, but the Cardinals’ response is relentless. Every time the Braves get a little momentum, Alvarez or Stephens or McLaren answers right back. It’s a showcase of power, timing, and October composure.
Cowherd:
And let’s not forget, Joe, this is the kind of performance that shifts the psychological edge. The Braves put up six runs, but giving up 18 in the same game? That’s a punch to the gut. Atlanta’s still up 2–1 in the series, but now the Cardinals have the confidence and firepower to turn this series into a battle.
Buck:
Yeah, Colin, and Busch Stadium was electric today. Forty-nine thousand-plus fans — the wind blowing out to left field at 10 miles per hour — perfect conditions for the Cardinals’ bats to fly. Every time Alvarez came to the plate, the crowd knew something special was about to happen. It’s one of those games where the numbers are staggering, but the feel in the ballpark matches every stat.
Cowherd:
Bottom line: Alvarez steals the show, St. Louis comes alive, and Atlanta has to find a way to stop this power surge or the series could get away from them fast. This is playoff baseball at its rawest and loudest — one swing changes everything, and the Cardinals just proved they have plenty of swings left.
Buck:
And tomorrow, Game 4, it’s all set up — same ballpark, same stakes. The Braves have to answer or St. Louis will tie this series, and after a game like today, you can bet the Cardinals aren’t going to give an inch.

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Colin Cowherd:
This is what happens when a proud team gets embarrassed and responds like a contender. San Francisco didn’t just win Game 3 — they detonated it. Twenty-one runs, twenty-five hits, and a reminder to Milwaukee that momentum in October is a fragile thing. The Brewers came in up 2–0, feeling comfortable. They leave Oracle Park knowing the Giants are very much alive.
Bob Costas:
And from the first inning, Colin, you sensed something was different. Milwaukee struck first, but the answer was immediate and emphatic. Edgar Perdomo, already the central figure of this series, turned a one-run deficit into a roar with a two-run home run that seemed to lift the entire ballpark onto its feet. It was not merely a response — it was a declaration.
Cowherd:
Perdomo didn’t have a good night — he had a historic one. Three home runs. Seven runs driven in. Four times across the plate. This wasn’t hot streak stuff; this was a player seizing a postseason moment and refusing to let the series slip away. Milwaukee threw pitcher after pitcher at him, and it didn’t matter. That’s when stars separate themselves.
Costas:
What followed in the fourth inning bordered on the surreal. Twelve runs. One after another — doubles into the gap, towering home runs, line drives that never seemed to find gloves. Hernandez, Wagner, Valenzuela, White — the Giants’ lineup became a relentless procession. Oracle Park, often dignified and restrained, transformed into a cathedral of noise.
Cowherd:
And this is the part Milwaukee has to worry about. Blowouts don’t count extra in the standings, but they linger. Pitchers remember them. Hitters feel them. When you give up twenty-one runs, you don’t just lose a game — you lose control of the narrative. Suddenly, the “inevitable Brewers” storyline has a crack running right through it.
Costas:
Credit must also be given to Ed Pritchett, who steadied the game from the mound. He wasn’t overpowering, but he was efficient, calm, and unflustered amid the chaos his offense created. And when the Giants turned it over to Brooks, the game had long since passed from competition into history.
Cowherd:
So now the series stands at two games to one, and the tone has shifted. Milwaukee still holds the edge, but San Francisco holds belief — and belief is dangerous in October. When you have a player like Perdomo swinging like that, you don’t feel outmatched. You feel inevitable.
Costas:
Baseball has always been a game of echoes — what happened yesterday reverberates into tomorrow. And as this series moves forward, the sound that will linger is the crack of Edgar Perdomo’s bat, echoing through the Bay, reminding everyone that dynasties are never crowned without resistance.

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Colin Cowherd:
This is what playoff baseball always exposes: stars travel, pressure doesn’t. Tampa Bay walked into Toronto, hostile building, season-defining game — and their best player didn’t blink. Ricky Abrego didn’t just have a good night; he controlled the game. Two home runs, a triple, four hits — that’s not variance, that’s dominance. When you’re trying to win a short series, that’s the difference between going home and going forward.
Toronto hit homers. Toronto had moments. But Tampa Bay had answers — immediately, repeatedly, and calmly. This wasn’t chaos. This was a professional road win by a team that knows exactly who it is.

Mike Francesa:
Let’s stop right there. If you’re Toronto, you cannot give up four runs in the first inning at home in a game like this. You just can’t. Neese comes out, gives up the homer, gives up traffic, and suddenly you’re chasing the game from the jump. That’s unacceptable in October.
Chris “Mad Dog” Russo:
Mike, they were never comfortable! Every time Toronto hit a home run, Tampa said, “Nice shot — now hold this.” Abrego hits one in the first, then later he’s ripping triples into the gap like it’s batting practice! How do you let one guy beat you like that?!
Mike:
Because you didn’t pitch well. Period. Five walks from Neese, 104 pitches in six innings, and you’re constantly in trouble. And then Cruz comes in and pours gasoline on it — four runs in two innings. That’s how you lose a series.
Dog:
And Mike, Tampa Bay didn’t even play clean! Abrego makes an error, they give you chances — and Toronto leaves thirteen men on base! Thirteen! That’s a football score! You don’t win playoff games like that.
Mike:
Toronto hit three solo homers. Solo. That tells the whole story. You’re not stringing anything together. Meanwhile Tampa’s getting doubles, triples, moving runners, stealing bases — Petro, Montes — they’re forcing the issue.
Dog:
And Abrego, Mike — let’s say it clearly — Player of the Game, Player of the Series so far. Twelve total bases! Twelve! When the Rays needed separation in the sixth, boom — RBI triple. That’s the knockout punch.
Mike:
Flores wasn’t great, but he was good enough. And Childress? Two scoreless innings to close it. That’s how you finish a road playoff win. No drama, no nonsense.
Dog:
So now Tampa Bay’s up 2–1, Toronto’s on the ropes, and tomorrow’s the season. That crowd better be loud, because right now the Rays look like the sharper team, the tougher team, and the team that understands October.
Mike:
Exactly. Toronto’s got talent. But Tampa Bay’s got edge. And in a short series, edge wins.

[jg2977]

Colin Cowherd:
This is one of those games that tells you something uncomfortable about sports: the best player on the field doesn’t always win. Mike Noble was phenomenal. Four hits. A triple. Three driven in. He did everything you ask a star to do in October — and Houston still lost.
That’s playoff baseball. It doesn’t reward effort; it rewards timing.
Harry Doyle:
Now I gotta say this — if you just watched Mike Noble tonight and didn’t look at the scoreboard, you’d swear Houston won by ten. The guy was on everything. Line drives, gap shots, you name it.
And yet… somehow… we’re talkin’ about him in a loss.
That’s gotta sting.
Cowherd:
Houston’s offense showed up. Twenty hits. Thirteen runs. Noble, Berthiaume, Garcia — they were relentless. But playoff games aren’t decided by volume. They’re decided by moments. Anaheim didn’t hit more — they hit when it mattered.
That ninth inning? That’s the difference between a great performance and a winning one.
Harry Doyle:
Houston kept punchin’. Anaheim kept punchin’ back. It was like two heavyweight fighters who forgot defense existed.
And then Anaheim sneaks in that go-ahead run in the ninth — a little bloop, a little bad luck — and suddenly all those Houston hits feel like old news.
Cowherd:
Anaheim didn’t outplay Houston — they outlasted them. And while the Angels finally get their first win of the series, Houston is left with something far worse than a loss: questions.
You don’t like losing games where your best guy was that good.
Harry Doyle:
Mike Noble walks off the field with four hits and nothin’ to show for it except a sore back and a box score that’ll make him shake his head tomorrow morning.
Final score: Angels 14, Astros 13.
Same stadium tomorrow. Same pressure.
And folks… after this one?
Anything can happen.