National Baseball League

[jg2977]

Standings recap and playoff preview

Colin Cowherd:
Alright, let’s talk about it—because this is one of those seasons where the standings don’t just tell a story… they scream one.
First of all, we need to start with the most ridiculous thing in sports right now—the New York Yankees.
152–10.
Let me say that again—152 and 10.
That’s not a great team. That’s not even an all-time team. That’s a glitch in the system. That’s like playing a video game on rookie mode. At this point, the only question isn’t “are they the best team?”—it’s “are they bored?”
And here’s the scary part—they get a BYE. They’re rested. They’re waiting. They’re watching everybody else fight in the mud.
Now flip over to the Cleveland Indians—134 wins.
In any normal universe, we’re spending all day talking about Cleveland. Instead? They’re the second most dominant team in their own league.
That’s how absurd this year is.
And then in the National League, I LOVE this story—
the Chicago Cubs.
119 wins. First playoff appearance in 14 years.
That’s what sports is about. That’s a sleeping giant waking up. That’s a fanbase that’s been sitting there forever finally saying, “Yeah… this might be our year.”
Now let’s talk matchups—because this is where it gets fun.
AL Wild Card: Red Sox vs Rays
You’ve got the Boston Red Sox and the Tampa Bay Rays.
Boston’s hovering around .500, Tampa’s clearly better on paper—but this is classic baseball. Boston’s loose. No expectations. Tampa? All the pressure.
I’ll take Tampa—but I’m telling you, this smells like a “why is this series going three games?” situation.
AL Wild Card: Mariners vs Angels
The Seattle Mariners vs the Anaheim Angels.
This is a coin flip. Three teams in that division basically tied, and Anaheim sneaks out with it.
This is the series nobody can predict—which usually means it’s the most entertaining one.
NL side—this is chaos.
Diamondbacks vs Giants
The Arizona Diamondbacks and the San Francisco Giants—both 90 wins.
That’s a heavyweight fight in the first round.
San Francisco’s been there before. Arizona’s hungry. This is the series where you go, “Why are these teams playing this early?”
Brewers vs Padres
The Milwaukee Brewers vs the San Diego Padres.
San Diego—again—great regular season. 99 wins.
But here’s the problem… we’ve seen this movie. Three World Series appearances. Three losses.
At some point, it’s not bad luck. It’s identity.
I like San Diego to win the series—but until they prove otherwise, I don’t trust them in October.
And don’t forget the BYE teams:
Miami Marlins – quietly dangerous, 100 wins
Chicago Cubs – the NL powerhouse
New York Yankees – historic juggernaut
Cleveland Indians – machine-like consistency
Big Picture
This postseason? It’s not balanced. It’s not wide open.
It’s top-heavy.
You’ve got four teams—Yankees, Indians, Cubs, Marlins—who feel like they’re playing a different sport than everyone else.
And in the end, everything comes back to one question:
Can anybody—ANYBODY—beat the Yankees four times?
Right now?
I don’t see it.

[jg2977]

There are postseason games… and then there are epics. What unfolded at Tropicana Field on October 2nd, 1940 was something closer to theater—messy, dramatic, unpredictable, and ultimately unforgettable.
The Boston Red Sox defeated the Tampa Bay Rays 11–7 in 10 innings in Game 1 of the American League Wild Card Series, but the score alone hardly captures the chaos. This was a game that twisted and turned, where momentum changed hands like a baton in a relay—sometimes gracefully, often recklessly.
Early on, Tampa Bay appeared to seize control. Behind two home runs from Francisco Hernandez—including a thunderous two-run shot in the first—the Rays built a 5–1 lead and seemed poised to justify their postseason position. But Boston, resilient and relentless, chipped away. A three-run fourth inning erased the deficit, and from there, the game became a test of endurance as much as execution.
And then there was Justin Madigan.
Madigan delivered one of the great individual performances in postseason history—5-for-5, a home run, two triples, two doubles, and four runs batted in. It was not merely production; it was domination. Each time Boston needed a spark, he provided it, culminating in a decisive two-run homer in the 10th inning that broke the game open for good.
Yet even that doesn’t fully define the night.
This was a game riddled with defensive miscues—seven total errors—and interrupted by a 63-minute rain delay that only added to the sense of disjointed drama. The Rays briefly reclaimed the lead in the seventh, Boston answered in the eighth, and by the time the ninth inning ended in a 7–7 stalemate, it felt inevitable that something extraordinary would decide it.
That moment came courtesy of Devin Thorn, whose go-ahead RBI triple in the 10th inning pierced the tension and shifted the balance decisively. From there, Boston surged, scoring four runs in the inning and silencing the home crowd.
In the end, what we witnessed was not a clean game, nor a conventionally well-played one—but it was compelling in the way only October baseball can be. Imperfect, unpredictable, and utterly captivating.
The Red Sox now hold a 1–0 series lead, with two opportunities to advance. The Rays, meanwhile, are left to regroup, knowing that in a series this short, the margin for error—much like in this game—is vanishingly small.

[jg2977]

And now, if you’ll indulge me… let’s take you to a cool October afternoon in Anaheim, where the shadows grow long and the stakes grow even longer.
The Seattle Mariners and the Anaheim Angels opened their Wild Card Series with a ballgame that felt, from the very first pitch, like it might not wish to end quietly.
Seattle came out with purpose. They scratched across a run in the first, added another in the second, and for much of the afternoon, they played the role of the steady traveler—unflustered, opportunistic, and just a bit sharper than the home side. By the seventh inning, behind a lively performance from Ricky Roman and a parade of triples—yes, triples, a most elegant and increasingly rare delight—they had built a 6–4 lead.
But baseball, as it so often does, had other plans.
Anaheim lingered… patiently, almost poetically. In the fourth, David Antillon’s home run tied the game. In the sixth, a flurry of well-placed hits—Juan Garcia with a double, Matt Jones with a triple—brought the Angels back to life. Still, Seattle would not yield. They pushed ahead again, 7–4, heading into the late innings.
And then came the quiet tension of the eighth and ninth… the kind that settles over a ballpark like a held breath.
In the eighth, Juan Garcia—who spent the afternoon reaching base and circling it with purpose—tripled and scored, helping trim the deficit. The crowd began to stir. A murmur turned into belief.
By the ninth, the Mariners were three outs away.
But October has a memory. And sometimes, it remembers the home team.
With two outs, a hit batsman. A walk. Suddenly, the tying runs were aboard. And then Matt Jones—calm, composed—lined a double into the outfield. One run scored… and then another. No throw. No play at the plate. Just the roar of 34,000 voices rising all at once as the Angels completed an 8–7 comeback.
A game that began with Seattle’s control ended with Anaheim’s crescendo.
Juan Garcia, reaching base four times and scoring three runs, was the quiet engine. Matt Jones, with the final, emphatic stroke, was the author of the ending.
And somewhere in the California twilight, you could almost hear the game whisper its timeless refrain:
It’s never over… until it is.