Beat L.A. (past tense)
All The Small Things From The Biggest Night In Padres History
One day after the most electric crowd ever seen at a baseball game, Padres fans woke up to something different Saturday. The sky was thick, gray, overcast. While Padres fans’ hearts were still warm from the spectacular events the night before, the air outside this day had a chill. As game time approached the sun still had not come out. On the walk to the stadium the streets were damp from a mid-day rain. This wasn’t the familiar visage of sunny San Diego.
On Saturday night the Padres sought to accomplish the impossible: the greatest division series upset in baseball history. The Padres put Joe Musgrove on the mound, a San Diego native, who grew up rooting for his own Padres heroes in the stands at Petco Park. Who knew better what a win would mean to the fan base than a born and raised Padres fan? That he was center stage against the greatest regular season team of all-time was the stuff of legends.
As we crossed the Harbor Drive footbridge a light rain was falling. Perhaps for this reason @livejoedreamz wasn’t out hyping in his usual spot.
When we arrived at the stadium something else was different. The night before had seen an unquestionably festive atmosphere. This night there was an unmistakable air of excitement. But it was heavy. A weighty anticipation. The irreverence wasn’t as visible. The mad friar chasing Dodgers fans with the ‘Booo’ sign was no nowhere to be seen. The beloved Padres Mariachi were not there to greet us. In some ways we’d been playing with house money the night before, having gotten out of the lion’s den in L.A. with our hide intact felt like we had an extra life to play with. But after the monumental victory the night before we had something new: real hope.
Game time was 6:37 but because of the rain it was announced that the start would be pushed back. The delay meant more time to consider the weight of the evening. Joe Musgrove was on everyone’s mind. His jerseys were everywhere. Many fans had taken a pilgrimage to his family’s coffee shop, Caffé Adesso in Alpine, prior to the game. Musgrove had signed a $100 million contract midway through the season, which some had questioned. He’d pitched masterfully a week before to close out the series in New York against the massively favored Mets. Many had felt that he earned his entire contract that night, but it was a more widely held sentiment that tonight was the real test.
The delay also meant more time to explore the magnificent Petco Park. We recreated our exact lap around field level from the night before, then headed to the upper levels to get a view of the city and the rapidly setting sun. San Diego is famous for its natural beauty, with sweeping ocean beaches meeting coastal desert and gentle mountains. From the top level of Petco we could see out west the Coronado bridge extending over the bay, connecting to the cozy island. Though the rain still trickled, we saw for the first time all day, hints of the blue sky beyond the shroud of rain clouds, and as we turned back to the stadium we saw a new sight. A sunset rainbow cast by the last light of the sun as it slipped beyond the horizon. Rare imagery on a rare night.
Game time was finally announced and we made our way back through the now buzzing stadium to our seats. The rain pushed the start back to 7:07. We hoped those 7’s were lucky.
The Petco event and facilities crew continued their torrid streak of excellence as it was announced that Jake Peavy would be throwing out the first pitch to former Padres all-star and silver slugger Mark Loretta. Joe Musgrove famously chose his jersey number 44 as an homage to his childhood hero and Padres Cy Young winner Jake Peavy. Peavy pitched to Loretta to roaring cheers.
As the start of the game approached the Petco lights were suddenly cut. Normally the drama would have been tempered by the light still in the sky at sunset. The rain had pushed back the start of the game, and the sun was firmly beyond the horizon. As a result Petco was momentarily plunged into surreal darkness. It was so quick and unexpected it took your breath away. It was meant to be a noticeable dimming to add a little excitement. But the total blackout stirred something primal, a fight or flight response. From the darkness came the flashy and stirring pre-game hype video sequence, which hit in all the right places. When the lights came back on, the Padres, led by Musgrove, were ready and eager to take the field. The Dodgers, the historically great team, the implacable foes, the immovable object, were right there to meet them.
Surefire hall of famer Mookie Betts stood in the box as the game got underway. He took a strike on a four seam fastball from Musgrove for the first pitch of the game. Mookie worked the count to 2-1, then swung and missed for the second strike. The first crowd challenge of the night was met as 45,000 fans stood in unison to cheer for the strikeout. Musgrove delivered a 95 MPH four-seam fastball on the outer half of the plate for strike three. A punch-out to begin the game was what Joe had been waiting for his entire life. It was a dream opening sequence. The crowd eruption was palpable, you could feel the noise shaking the ground you stood on. Your mind couldn’t help but fast forward to the possibility that we could really see this fairy tale story unfold. Trea Turner would come up next and send a weakly hit fly ball to right field, but the ball was headed directly to the no-man’s land between second baseman Jake Cronenworth and right fielder Juan Soto. The stadium held its breath, and for a moment it appeared the BABIP gods had gifted the Dodgers yet another bloop hit, but after an enormous distance covered, a sprinting Cronenworth tracked it down and caught the fly for the second out. Supervillain Freddie Freeman was up next, and chipped away at the fairy tale, sending a scalding blast into left-center for a double. Joe Musgrove had pitched the first no-hitter in Padres history earlier in the season. The feat would not be repeated tonight. With Freeman on second base, Musgrove faced cleanup hitter Will Smith who took a first pitch strike, but layed off the next two balls to work a 2-1 count. Prickles of anxiety flowed through the crowd as Musgrove was going to have to throw a strike to the decorated hitter with a runner in scoring position. Changing speeds, Musgrove threw a 91 MPH cutter and Will Smith couldn’t barrel it, flying out to Trent Grisham in center ending the inning. Musgrove had survived the first inning with no damage done.
The Padres faced Dodgers starter Tyler Anderson in the bottom half of the first. Anderson was one of the many Dodgers starting pitchers who had pitched at the level of an ace all season. Anderson had given the Padres fits all year, the team never getting comfortable against his start and stop windup. Anderson retired the first two easily and the Padres couldn’t capitalize on a two out Machado single, sending the game into the second scoreless.
Musgrove started dealing in the second, striking out Max Muncy swinging to open the inning. Justin Turner hit a weak single to centerfield after making contact with a Musgrove slider off the plate. Nuisance hitter Trayce Thompson failed to advance Turner, fouling out. Musgrove overpowered Chris Taylor with four straight fastballs, which Taylor could not square up, before finishing him off with a sharp slider that caught the outer half of the plate for strike three. Musgrove had handled the behemoth for two scoreless innings.
The Padres threatened with two outs in their half of the second, Profar singling to left and Grisham drawing a walk to put runners on first and second for Nola. But Nola rolled over a 2-0 changeup to third base and the game moved to the third still without a score.
To start the third Musgrove induced a Gavin Lux lineout and the Dodgers lineup turned over. Betts came up the second time around. This time Musgrove fell behind 3-0 after a slider, curve, cutter combo all missed the plate. Mookie ultimately worked the walk taking a fastball just outside for ball four. Next up was Trea Turner. Musgrove started with a cutter that Trea Turner missed badly. The crowd cheered loudly at the whiff. The night before Turner had jammed a finger diving back to first on an attempted pickoff and after the swing and miss there were mutterings about whether it was affecting him. Turner put all doubts to rest on the next pitch as he hit a missile toward Manny Machado at third base who tried to spear the blistering line drive but missed and the ball got down the left field line for a double. As Mookie Betts rounded third there was a dreadful sense that he would score all the way from first, but Profar did well enough to get to the ball in left field and cut it off to prevent Betts from scoring. The Dodgers now had runners on second and third, and supervillain Freddie Freeman was once again at the plate. With a base open at first and the hottest hitter on the planet at the plate there was a fair case to be made that the Padres should intentionally walk Freeman to load the bases to bring up the less threatening Will Smith. Bob Melvin elected to let Musgrove pitch to the unreal Freeman. Freeman took ball one on a slider that bent too far inside. On the next pitch Freeman swung and missed a four seamer from Musgrove and for a moment it seemed like Melvin may have made the savvy move to pitch to the warlock first baseman. But on the next pitch Freeman turned on the fastball and drove a chopping double down the right field line. Betts and Turner scored. The Padres were behind by two. Musgrove was not going to repeat the feat from New York. We weren’t going to see the fairy tale we’d hoped for so badly.
We felt crestfallen after Joe lost the shutout. Intrusive memories from a season where a 2-0 deficit turned out to be insurmountable, rallies fizzling, unproductive outs and untimely K’s came flooding back, unbidden, impossible to block out. We felt like something had been destroyed. Like how we imagine one might feel witnessing a brick smash through a stained glass window. The night we had dared to dream of, the hometown son pitching a dagger game to eliminate the juggernaut Dodgers, seemed to be over.
Although Musgrove escaped the rest of the inning, when the Padres failed to answer in the bottom half of the inning the two run deficit planted the kernel of anxiety in the evening air. The night before, the Padres had struck first. And while the game had many (felt like thousands) of nail biting moments, the Padres never fell behind. They won that game by one run. Now they were down by two.
Musgrove worked a smooth fourth but Anderson handled the Padres just as easily in the bottom half.
In the fifth Musgrove retired Betts and Turner before Freeman got his third hit of the night. But Joe dug deep and K’d Will Smith on a 92 MPH fastball to end the threat. Joe was visibly emotional walking off the field. But in the Padres half of the inning, Anderson still couldn’t be touched. He retired the Padres to keep them scoreless at the end of the fifth. The game passed its halfway point and the Padres were trailing.
Musgrove came back out to pitch the sixth. After Muncy grounded out to second off a Musgrove cutter, Justin Turner walked and Trayce Thompson singled to center. The Dodgers were threatening again. In such instances, with a starter having gone through the batting order twice already, many managers would have taken the starter out. Bob Melvin let Joe Musgrove pitch. Musgrove responded in heroic fashion. Digging deep into his soul, he struck out Chris Taylor again with four pitches, and needed five to strike out Gavin Lux swinging at a 93 MPH fastball. Musgrove came off the field roaring. Something very subtle changed at that moment. When the Dodgers scored two in the third inning, it would have been fair to say Musgrove had not had a great outing to that point. But when he got through six innings, striking out eight, and only giving up two runs, that could no longer be said. Although the Padres were behind, Musgrove had pitched a gem. Against this terrifying Dodgers team you take six innings and two runs any day of the week and count your blessings. We wanted to see the hometown kid pitch well and take down the seemingly unbeatable Dodgers. He’d pitched well. The Padres were losing but the dream was alive.
Tyler Anderson was absolutely dealing to that point, his stuttering windup had the Padres flummoxed all night. Watching the game live you could see he was baffling the hitters he faced. His velocity was strong. But he’d faced down the order two times already, and analytics suggest the third time through the order is deadly. Dave Roberts elected to replace Anderson with Chris Martin for the sixth. Sometimes analytics can lead one astray. We’ll never know what would’ve happened had Anderson remained in the game, but we can say that there was a bit of a sigh of relief when Anderson was taken out. Martin did prove he was up to the task as he worked a scoreless sixth and the Padres were trailing with only 9 outs left. But we were into the Dodgers bullpen now, the one area where it might be said the Padres had a slight edge.
Musgrove’s night ended when Steven Wilson replaced him to start the seventh. Bob Melvin had decided to make the change rather than have Musgrove face the Dodgers’ hitters a fourth time. Mookie Betts opened the inning with a walk. Trea Turner then dropped an impeccable bunt, and with his olympic sprinter speed, beat out a single. Nola and Wilson had both gone for the ball and seemed to miscommunicate and Betts took advantage taking third during the confusion. Freeman was now up with runners on first and third and he had not made an out all night. In a bizarre sequence, Wilson hit Freeman with a pitch that looked like it was another bunted ball. Betts raced for home and Nola scrambled after the ball in what seemed like another disjointed play. But when the dust settled, Betts was sent back to third and Freeman awarded first. Will Smith, the cleanup hitter was now up with the bases loaded and no outs. This had the look and feel of Padresing.
On the first pitch Smith sent a sharply hit fly ball to left. In the damp air of the evening, the ball hung up long enough for Profar to track it down in the gap, but it was hit so well that Betts scored easily. But watching Profar you wouldn’t know it. His athleticism was on full display as he snatched the fly ball and spun quickly to rifle the ball in to Ha-Seong Kim for the cutoff. It was a full effort play even though there was essentially no hope of catching Betts. Profar wasn’t ready to give in— not even a little. Tim Hill was brought in to relieve Wilson and continued his top form, dotting the strike zone with 91 MPH sinkers until Muncy swung and missed for strike three. Justin Turner came up to try to put the Padres away, but couldn’t square up the lefty’s sidearm fastball, grounding out to Ha-Seong Kim to end the threat. The Padres were out of the jam with only one run given up.
There are moments where some sacred traditions seem out of place. The Mets stadium crew famously elected to play the Timmy Trumpet walk on music in the wild card elimination game down by four runs. Mets fans in the stands around us commented “Don’t they know we’re freakin’ losing?” It was the seventh inning stretch time at Petco and the team was losing, badly, late in the most important game in franchise history. But baseball has certain foundational traditions that carry on irrespective of circumstance. It was time to sing Take Me Out to the Ball Game. We stood to sing and it’s fair to say that we sang to be dutiful to the tradition. Nothing about that moment felt lighthearted. There was no way the irreverent song could’ve been skipped over, it was an ingrained tradition. But we spared a thought as to whether that might’ve had elements of a Timmy Trumpet moment for the Padres.
When the singing was over we stopped to take stock. We were facing the greatest team of all time. And we were losing. But we were playing them better than any of the mavens had predicted. We decide then to send a message out into the ether. Not expecting anyone to see it or respond.
Within seconds Air Friar (@ffpadres) retweeted and we were reminded of all the souls out there, locked in to this moment, looking for hope, keeping the faith.
Despite all evidence to contrary, Padres fans believed this game still had a sting in the tail. Though we were as susceptible to doubt as any Padres fan, we dug deep into our psyches, finding both the energy and motivation to keep the faith. All of us stood up and implored those within earshot of our exhortations to do likewise even here in the game’s darkest moment. To our unending gratitude and amazement, the fans never gave in to the siren’s seductive call of discouragement, and instead, through sheer willpower, stood rock-solid behind the team, ensuring that the dodgers could never get comfortable.
As we said before, when the game, delayed by rain, had an adjusted start time of 7:07pm, we prayed that the number 7 was a good omen. Prior to this series, the Padres had played six series against the dodgers, and had lost them all…often comprehensively. But this was the seventh meeting, and as it happens, the only one that mattered. As fate would have it, the game kicked into high gear when Jurickson Profar led off the bottom of the inning with a walk and was advanced to third on Trent Grisham’s rifle shot single to centerfield. Austin Nola, as he has so often this postseason, came through with an infield single to score Profar from third. The shutout was over. The Padres had broken through. The deficit was down to two. That was a great moment, but there was still much to do. Ha-Seong Kim came to bat next as the lineup turned over. Kim had endured a tough night at the plate, but here he was with a chance to come through in the biggest moment. He started the at bat feigning a bunt, a fateful maneuver forcing the corner infielders to take a step in. He worked a 2-0 count and Padres fans hopes began to rise. A hitters count late in a tight ballgame with the tying runs on base. But this was the greatest team on the planet, and the Dodgers Yency Almonte blew a 97 MPH fastball past Kim for a swinging strike. The Padres struggles with high velocity fastballs had been chronicled all year. Kim settled back in to face a 2-1 count. With the entire stadium roaring, in the seventh inning of the seventh game of the postseason, and the seventh series against the Dodgers, a game that the universe pushed to 7:07, Ha-Seong Kim wearing number 7, delivered the Padres’ seventh hit of the night and the biggest of his career, a chopper down the third base line just out of the reach of the stretching Muncy who was still playing in on the grass after to cover the threat of Kim’s feinted bunt. Trent Grisham scored, Austin Nola took third, and Ha-Seong slid into second safe with a double, setting the table for the teeth of Padres lineup. The entire stadium reached another decibel level as Padres fans rocked Petco Park.
The provenance of these letters we’re writing was the urgency we felt to make the case for trading for Juan Soto. Juan Soto was now coming up in precisely the situation he was trade for, deep in the playoffs with a chance to slay a dragon. Soto watched the first two pitches, shuffling as they missed the plate, jittering with the energy of the moment. The third pitch of the at bat caught too much plate and the slugger ripped it to right field for a single, driving in Nola to tie the game, and there were still no outs. Padres fans had not yet recovered from Kim’s moment, but the celebrations somehow kicked up yet another notch. There was no turning back. Though the air was thick with rain clouds, there was now an abundance of dry kindling beneath the dodgers exalted season. Kim’s double was the true spark. All that was left to do was burn the Dodgers’ supremely arrogant guarantee of a World Series victory to the ground in a spectacular conflagration.
Most valuable player in the National League (regardless of whether he ultimately wins the award) Manny Machado stood at the plate with the go ahead runs on base. But again, this Dodgers team was the best in history and had their high leverage reliever on the mound. Almonte struck Manny out. Brandon Drury came up next but popped out foul. There were now two outs and the runners on base hadn’t moved. The unspoken question on everyone’s mind as Jake Cronenworth stepped to the plate was, did we have what it takes? These were the moments all season where the team struggled to get the key hit. The term Padresing was used to describe such failures, finding ways to let the other team off the hook. The inning had breathed new life into the Padres, but they were still facing down the demons that had haunted them all year. After all, Cronenworth had also endured a difficult postseason so far. But in this moment something novel happened. If the Padres were anxious, the Dodgers were panicking, a turn of the tables never seen before. Bizarre moves ensued. Almonte made one pitch to Cronenworth, a ball. Dave Roberts decided at this moment to change pitchers, bringing in Alex Vesia for the lefty on lefty matchup. Changing pitchers mid at bat, barring injury, is always bizarre. It’s not clear what triggered the move from Roberts. Vesia stood in and delivered a strike to Cronenworth to even the count 1-1. But he allowed Juan Soto to swagger-steal second base. Cronenworth fouled off the next pitch and was down 1-2. He took a ball to even the count. There were now two strikes and two out, but two runners in scoring position. With a single hit the Padres could gain the same 2 run advantage that had left the stadium so crestfallen when it had belonged to the Dodgers. Vesia dealt a biting slider. But Jake shortened up his swing, something he’d struggled with all year, and got the barrel of the bat to the ball. The moment was dissected by the incomparable @TooMuchMortons_
Unless you’ve been invested in those moments it can be hard to understand how monumental they feel. When you’re down against a giant like the Dodgers, winning feels like a fate out of reach, something that only happens to a chosen few, but never to you. In the moment your mind recalls all the previous instances in which things didn’t go your way. When you’re watching an unprecedented moment unfold there are no available prior examples of success to inform your expectations. There is a mental weight accompanying that moment, an outcome you’ve never seen before feels unachievable even as the rational part of your brain tells you that it can happen. ‘Jake can get the hit to put us ahead right here’ you think, but the doubt doesn’t dissipate, it hangs thick in the air. Living through those moments is life changing. Forever after, when faced with a mountainous challenge, when your mind seeks available examples of overcoming such challenges, there will be the history making moment fresh in the mind. Moments like that truly make you reconsider what’s possible. We all hold superstitions, despite our attempts to be rational and our protests that we are. Superstition in San Diego is the result of decades of examples of needing the big hit and not getting it, failing when against the ‘inevitable’ foe, and the unavailability of counter-examples to combat the expectation that such failures are destined to recur in perpetuity.
Jake Cronenworth, who is still, in some circles, unfairly maligned as overrated, delivered the most important hit (with respectful apologies to Steve Garvey) in franchise history. It is very likely that most in the stands did not actually see how the play unfolded once the ball landed in the outfield grass. We didn’t need to see it. We knew what it meant. Strangers embraced in mass group hugs. There were high fives all around. There was exultation. There was laughing. There was crying. Replays showed that the Padres themselves were experiencing the moment beat for beat with the other 45,000 inside the ballpark. When we had recovered ourselves, a look at the scoreboard through bleary eyes revealed not just the score, but the truth. The team nobody outside San Diego cared about or gave chance to, had just shaken the baseball world to its core. Nothing less than a seismic realignment had just occurred. And what inning had this all happened in? You probably know. Indeed, how can you ever forget?
As Jake walked off the field at the end of the inning the skies opened up and rain began to fall. First a light rain, then growing into a proper downpour. The weather was no longer fair, but the fans stayed in the stands to a person. As the rain fell down the atmosphere became biblical. The timing of the deluge, starting exactly at the moment that the most important, and most improbable inning in Padres history concluded, felt like far too much of a coincidence to be anything but an acknowledgement by the universe of the events that had just unfolded. This was a cleansing rain washing away the stains of years of failure and misery. Water of life to spring a new era. The moment went on and on, the joy in the stands was undiminished by the cold rain. A few people around us made small adjustments, placing the rally towel on their head or putting on a jacket. But no one left. No one sought the shelter of the awnings or even thought about doing so. The high fives, the hugs, the knowing looks and nodding heads, the shouts of joy, of triumph, of victory on the horizon filled the stadium.
When the rain became heavy and it was clear the eighth inning was going to be delayed, the greatest facilities entertainment crew in the business continued its unparalleled excellence, this time with song selection, culminating in San Diego’s own Blink-182: All the Small Things. The song was an ethereal connective tissue between fans still in full celebration of the go ahead runs, but now with a casual coordination that spread across the entire stadium. Our words are going to fail to capture that moment, there aren’t words capable of recreating the current running through Petco Park, the biblical stature of the events unfolding, Mother Nature seeming to take notice. Opening the heavens to ensure the Padres faithful experienced the joy of the moment for longer than probably any other between inning break had lasted before. With the benefit of reflection we can say that the game was not over, the Padres still had to close two innings against the deadliest foe any modern era team has faced. But there was a charge in the air after the rain began to fall. It had a protective quality.
All the work that the organization had done, especially in the last few years to “slay the dragon” came to a spectacular climax as unlikely superhero Robert Suarez made quick work of the Dodgers in the eighth as the sky remained open. But in the bottom half of the eighth, the rain gradually dissipated before all but ceasing just as the ninth got underway.
Perhaps feeling the need to put an exclamation point on the moment, the baseball Gods sent out the Dodgers’ best to face the completely rejuvenated Padres closer, Josh Hader. Indeed, this time the “best 1-2-3 in baseball” were not going out as saviors, but as sacrificial lambs. Hader was overpowering. The venerated future hall of fame members of the Dodgers 1-2-3 punch could do nothing to fight back. Legendary Padres closer Trevor Hoffman, watching over proceedings from his luxury box, nodded with approval as the electric Hader struck out Betts on three pitches. He needed four to strike out Turner. The seemingly invincible Freeman was the final boss. He hadn’t made an out all night. A 2 run lead can sometimes seem insurmountable, but it never is; it is actually quite delicate. Hader faced the greatest hitter on the greatest team with 2 outs in the ninth inning, with the elimination of the inevitable foe on the line. Hader threw a 97 MPH fastball for strike one. Freeman geared up and swung at the second pitch, but Hader pulled the string on a bending slider and the ball missed the bat for strike two. Freeman had now seen both of Hader’s best pitches and dug in for the 0-2 showdown. Every soul in the stadium was utterly enthralled in the moment. We had already witnessed what we thought was impossible, but somehow we still couldn’t believe what we were on the cusp of achieving. Hader wound up and delivered the pitch. He went with deception breaking off another hard slider that started low in the zone. Freeman thought it was a fastball and swung harmlessly over the top as the pitch broke down into the dirt. Hader had struck out the hottest hitter on the planet. The Padres had won.
Sheer delirium ensued. It’s very hard to give any details of the following moment. We have some on video and at least one of us literally was falling to the ground unable to stand.
The Padres power was on display that inning. It was truly astonishing to see a group of hitters, so fearsomely determined to destroy our dreams turn meek and pitiful. Hader had needed just 10 pitches to strike out the best 1-2-3 hitters in baseball (and maybe ever), which is just one pitch shy of an immaculate inning. In retrospect, we probably could have predicted this outcome. The Dodgers had waltzed to a division title with nearly every player on the roster playing at seemingly unsustainable peak performance. Meanwhile, the Padres were beset by disaster before the season even started, and the bad luck just kept coming in waves. However, once they met in October, it was the Padres who were ready to face adversity under the bright lights of the postseason, while the Dodgers folded like blue lawn chairs.
As far as the shell shocked Dodgers and their equally shell-shocked fans were concerned, this too would prove a defining moment. Prior to Saturday night, it was the pleasure of the Dodgers and their fans to deride and bully the Padres and their fans as the annoying little brother, who they never even think about, let alone have any kind of rivalry with. Apparently, in Dodger nation they’ve never heard of perhaps the most basic and common rivalry known to humanity, the sibling rivalry.
But things are irretrievably different now.
We may always be the younger brother to the Dodgers, but we are no longer the “little” brother. Indeed, over one magical week in October, we watched this team grow up before our eyes. Forevermore, everyone affiliated with this team, from the owners box to the front office, to the beat writers, to the broadcasters, the players, the legends, the coaches, the back room staff, the minor leaguers, the stewards, the vendors, the diehards, the bandwagoners, the podcasters, the YouTubers, to all the Padres fans around the world, all the way down to a few friends who decided to start a newsletter pleading with the Padres to acquire Juan Soto… and of course, all the people who think it’s a good idea to encourage those fools by reading their very late night/early morning quixotic thoughts on the Padres. All of us have earned the right to walk taller. Yes, even the Dodgers acknowledge that the NL West officially has a new and extremely bitter rivalry. In our opinion, this “new” rivalry will quickly eclipse the “traditional” one.
We left the stadium in the wee hours of the night. We took the trip across the bridge to see the never disappointing @livejoedreamz back at it celebrating the win:
We were light as air.
We beat L.A. The night will forever be a part of this city’s lore and carried forth by everyone who was there that night, and preserved through the stories we tell and media we share. We’re done with the Dodgers. We don’t need to think about them anymore. We have much more important things to think about now. The Padres advanced past the sibling rivalry to face their new foes from the City of Brotherly Love. LFGSD