Stephen Piscotty hit a line drive – and Mike Matheny stared at the third base coach, spitting until dirt mixed into mud. It’s only the second inning – a fan whispers that St. Louis has dropped the first two games…
Category: NL
NY Mets outfielder Yoenis Cespedes gave up an inside-the-park home run when he saw the fly ball was lodged under the outfield wall and figured it was a ground rule double. He could’ve picked it up, but he didn’t, and…
St. Louis players walked toward their plane, heads down, ties around their necks. Losing is not mysterious. They did it to themselves, kicking the ball around the infield in Game 2. Their sick pitcher afflicted swaths of the Midwest with…
There is no need to be melodramatic, for Ruben Tejada was already that, leaning on his cane while waving to Met fans before Game 3. He’d tossed his crutches after just a couple of days. Remarkable. He resembled the Penguin…
It was only in the fifth, when the game became official, that a certain announcer – who shall not be named – began to talk. It wasn’t Dennis Upperdeckersley, who has ended too many quality Cardinal pitching performances games in…
Will John Lackey take a breath? Will I? In 2006 I decided I might enjoy the playoffs, for the team of my heart made a run after escaping the regular season with a paltry 83 wins. They won the whole…
Somewhere on the screen of a smartphone, Charlie Morton began to lose control. Pittsburgh had to win, or face the the wild card playoff. Hell. In this case, a collection of baby bears. They haven’t grown up or they’d lose…
M: Moi. D: Demon. Clearly. M: Wild Card Playoff Game Demon, don’t tempt me with your ease: D: You’re already in the playoffs! Rest your starters! Eat, drink and be merry! M: Oh, I know, as sure as I know…
Jason Heyward cheered from the cover of Sports Illustrated. There were only five or six copies remaining in the rack, fingerprints smudged on his shoes. Perhaps some deviant had reached for Heyward’s heel, only to be crushed by his metal…
The runner spiked the second baseman, he did. The runner slid feet first with his metal cleats aimed at the poor fielder’s heart. And, that old runner had spent the better part of the afternoon sharpening the bottom of his…