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goatsandgangsters · 4 years

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Connect (Con Man AU; Chapter 3)

Characters: Meyer Lansky, Charlie Luciano, Benny Siegel, Frank Costello Pairing: Meyer/Charlie Word Count: ~5,000

(also on ao3)

“How’s it looking?” Meyer’s voice—though he seldom raised it—echoed louder than usual as he entered the empty room. The ceiling wasn’t high, but the exposed concrete and beams made everything sound louder than it was, his footsteps sharp and distinct.

Benny sat perched on the windowsill before a wide expanse of tinted glass, the large Citgo sign behind him. He looked up from the wad of cash he was counting, a plastic spoon dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Not great,” he said around the spoon.

Meyer stopped in front of him and bristled. “Not great?”

Benny offered a toothy grin, plucking the spoon from his mouth. “The clam chowder, I mean. Not all it’s cracked up to be, you know.”

Meyer let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and frustration, rounding instead on Frank for a straight answer. “What about you?”

“I didn’t have any. Seafood doesn’t agree with me. Besides, my wife’s got me doing this cleanse, so I’m only supposed to eat—”

“Will somebody—” Meyer said sharply, “please tell me about the damn Red Sox.”

“Oh, yeah, them. Probably gonna win,” Benny shrugged. “Unless they all get sick from this clam chowder. Chowdah,” he amended, adopting a mocking accent as he tossed his half-full cup halfway across the room into an open box.

Meyer smiled wryly, clasping his hands together as he looked out the window. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky, but he knew that soon those stadium lights would be burning hot and bright around the green edges of Fenway Park. “Well, don’t go slipping them any. We need them to win the World Series.”

Frank scooped Benny’s chowder cup out of the box and set it on the ground. “And don’t go messing up the merchandise, alright?”

“And this location. It’s secured?” Meyer asked as he cocked his head and peered down into the boxes. Frank was good with logistics—he knew people, knew which palms to grease, plus he had out-of-town connections in several major cities outside of New York. But, for as reliable as he knew Frank to be, Meyer knew it was better never to rely on anyone else.

“Secure and discrete, with a backdoor in case of emergency,” Frank confirmed.

From the windowsill, Benny laughed. “Sounds like a Craigslist ad.”

Neither Frank nor Meyer paid the comment any attention, as Frank continued rattling off a list of checks and information.

“Good. I want everything set up before Game 1,” Meyer said as he and Frank finished talking over the finer points.

“Where’re you goin’?” Benny asked, jumping down from his perch. The sound of his turquoise sneakers slapping the concrete floor reverberated around the room.

Frank handled moving the merchandise, buying, reselling, underselling, overselling. He took care of the practicalities of the operation with the same care that Meyer took in the planning. Meyer handled the numbers, the details, all the information they needed. They didn’t need to worry about encryption when they had the most secure data storage in the world—Meyer’s memory. Betting, selling, scamming. Credit cards. Even hacking when things got slow. Gambling was the big money-maker for sports, but any large event brought all kinds of other opportunities with it. It was all about volume. Keeping as many fingers in as many pies, but never an entire hand—so to speak. Enough to get by, to keep moving, to afford the next round of jobs, but not enough to be noticed. Not enough to raise suspicion.

“I need to crunch some numbers in peace. No distractions.” He pointed a finger at Benny as he turned back towards the door.

Benny fixed him with one of those looks that used to mean his mother was about to get a call home from the principal’s office. “When have I ever been distracting?”

Fortunately, it was a short trip back to the hotel—only a few stops by train. He had been advised by everyone to avoid driving in Boston at all costs, which was a shame. Meyer had so little opportunity to get behind the wheel back home that it was one of his favorite parts of out-of-town jobs. Certainly better than the little bars of soap he still felt wasteful leaving behind in hotels.

The hotel itself was an ornate building downtown. It was fancier than suited Meyer’s personal tastes, but this wasn’t about his preferences. Besides, he noted as he crossed the street from the train and walked across the brick plaza, the hotel was right next to the library. Not that he would have much time for reading during the World Series, but it was nice to have close by all the same. Maybe he could bring his notebook across the street for some quiet.

The doorman held the door as he entered; Meyer nodded and thanked him. It would always make him a bristle a little, being treated like some kind of big shot when he was more than capable of opening his own doors, thank you. His ego didn’t need someone to do it for him—but this was a “big shot” kind of job. The World Series was a big deal. He had a part to play.

He fished his key card from his wallet as he entered the lobby, but the woman behind the front desk waved him down. “Sir? Excuse me, sir? Your husband wanted me to let you know that he’s waiting for you in the hotel restaurant.”

“My… husband?” Meyer hesitated, keeping his face neutral.

“Yes, he said that his phone died and you’d already checked in, so he’d wait for you for dinner.”

Meyer managed a tight smile. “Thank you,” as he reversed direction from the elevators and through the doors into the plush, maroon-carpeted hotel restaurant. It was early enough in the day that there were not many people inside. A couple at the bar, one or two tables filled. At the far side, by the window, a familiar face sat with his knees up against the table, typing away on his “dead” phone.

So much for no distractions.

He walked over, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “When exactly did we get married?”

“You’re so bad at rememberin’ our anniversary,” Charlie teased, looking up at him with a smirk. He dropped his feet back to the floor, grinning, but Meyer was all business.

“How’d you find me?” he asked, giving Charlie a steady stare. Running into each other by chance in Manhattan was one thing. Charlie finding his hotel in Boston—when he had no reason to even know Meyer would be in another state and city altogether—was another matter. He needed to figure out which security breach he had to close.

“I’m lucky,” Charlie answered with a cheeky grin. Meyer raised an eyebrow; he caved. “Alright, fine. After you disappeared on me without givin’ your number, I asked around,” Charlie explained, shooting Meyer a fond-but-grudging look that almost made it seem like they actually were a couple. Meyer had to commend his commitment to a rouse.

“I figure, Meyer ain’t exactly a common name, but nobody’s got any idea who I’m talkin’ about. For bein’ the best in the biz, you’re either way under the radar or you got everybody too scared to talk. But finally, I find a guy who tells me you work big sporting events. I’m thinkin’, 2013 World Series got your name all over it.” Charlie paused and took a sip from his glass of water. “Besides, I ain’t ever been to Boston before. Never been outta the five boroughs, actually.”

He looked at Meyer expectantly, who nodded as he digested the information. Charlie was right about one thing—he did operate under the radar. It was safer that way. He had other people who could be the front, who could strike the deals, shake the hands, meet the contacts. Meyer organized it all. “So you’ve just been wandering the streets of a major metropolitan area in the hopes of running into me by chance? You do know how many people are coming in for the game, right?”

“That’s the thing, though!” Charlie said, emphatic and excited, sitting forward in his seat. “That’s how it happened.”

Meyer raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to offer a retort, when the waiter appeared to refill their water and take their orders for drinks. Charlie—practiced and confident—ordered a cocktail involving peaches and vodka that made Meyer’s teeth ache just thinking about it. Meyer opted for pernod, while Charlie tacked on an order for pretzel bites and beer cheese with an award-winning smile.

Meyer took a sip of water and looked out the window at the people passing by in Copley Square. “Really? Pretzel bites?”

“If you don’t want any, more for me,” Charlie teased.

“I’m just surprised that a place like this even has pretzel bites.”

Charlie flipped open the black leather menu book. “What, so I should order some ‘olive oil poached octopus’ when he comes back?”

Meyer grimaced. “Pretzels will be just fine. But don’t think you’re getting out of this easily. I believe I’m still owed an explanation.”

Charlie leaned against the high-backed leather chair; he seemed to be enjoying this, retelling his detective work. At least it wasn’t hard to get him talking. Useful flaw. “Alright, so I get here, figure next step’s gotta be Fenway, maybe start askin’ around, see if anybody who’s in the business here knows anything about you.”

“Seems doubtful, considering you didn’t have much luck with that on our home turf.”

“Hey, I gotta plenty of luck, thanks. ‘Cause there I am, gettin’ a slice of pizza, courtesy of some guy’s wallet—and it ain’t New York pizza, I’ll tell you that much—”

Meyer smirked. “I don’t hear great things about the clam chowder, either.”

“That’s just it! There I am, eatin’ my shit pizza, and there’s these two guys. When’s Meyer meetin’ us, and suddenly I’m all ears.”

“I’m not the only person in the entire world named Meyer, you know.”

Charlie ignored this point and kept talking. “So the one guy—beanpole, can’t stand still—he’s all, how come Meyer gets that swanky Copley hotel and we’re in a Best Western. And the other guy—looks like an Eddie Bauer catalog—he’s sayin’, well you know Meyer, all cautious, wants to stay separate. So now I’m here and I was right.”

Charlie grinned in satisfaction, evidently quite pleased with himself and his work, even though it was nothing but stupid dumb luck and stupid dumb Benny and Frank. Meyer clenched his teeth; he’d be having a word with them about being so cavalier with their details in public, where anyone could overhear.

“Well,” Meyer said, brushing a few lingering crumbs from earlier patrons off the table and into the palm of his hand, “I’ve never had a stalker before. Is that standard in your repertoire, or are you branching out?”

Charlie scoffed, indignant. “I’m not a stalker!”

“What do you call following me all the way to Boston?”

“Skill.”

Meyer snorted, which seemed to get under Charlie’s skin.

“Come on, admit it. You’re impressed!”

He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction so easily. “Maybe I’m just creeped out.” It was unbelievable, after all, that he could come all the way to Boston and Charlie could still track him down in one afternoon all because of some goddamn clam chowder. And more than a little worrying. If Charlie could do it, who else?

“Listen,” Charlie said, sitting forward and drumming his fingers against the menu. He spoke quickly in a lowered voice, a look in his eyes as he met Meyer’s. “If I’m honest, I didn’t think it’d work, but then I found you and—and it’s like what you said. Things connect. Like us.”

Meyer sat back. “You’re twisting my words. That’s about strategy, you’re talking… fate.”

Charlie cocked his head. “You sayin’ you don’t believe in it?”

Meyer scoffed. “No, of course not. Do you? Fate is nothing more than what you make of it.”

“And I made it here.”

They fell into silence as the waiter set their drinks down on the table. The moment he was out of earshot, Charlie raised his glass with a winning smile. “So what do you say?”

“About fate?”

“About me. Whatever you got goin’ on, I want in.”

Meyer paused, tracing a finger along the outside of his glass. “I’m not sure it will work.” Rather than look at Charlie’s face—like someone had killed his puppy—Meyer riffled through his bag instead. “If you come onboard… Something tells me you’re a Yankees guy, but we need someone to be the idiot fan,” he said as he pulled out a Red Sox cap.

Charlie’s face split into a grin as he reached for the hat. “Anything for you, honey.”

Despite himself, Meyer laughed and clinked their glasses together.

*****

They didn’t order the Prime New York Strip, despite Charlie’s insistence that they have a full dinner instead of drinks and appetizers. Really, he just wanted to order the most expensive thing on the menu.

But, Meyer had said, there were better cuts.

Charlie couldn’t tell if he was being a snob or offering to buy him a nicer steak dinner later. Either way, he planned on sticking around to find out.

A short while—and several people’s wallets—later, Meyer was leading him into a building across from Fenway Park. The wallets weren’t part of the plan, per se, but Charlie wasn’t about to cram his ass onto an overcrowded, stopping-and-starting, screechy excuse for a subway without making it worth his while. Meyer noticed, of course, and said nothing; he only smirked. And maybe Charlie liked showing off a little, liked the way Meyer kept his lips in a stern little line, but his eyes crinkled in the corner as Charlie lifted a pair of designer sunglasses from a stuffy business type with a bit of bravado.

He liked the way Meyer moved through the crowds like no one could touch him, as though the sweaty ambling bodies around them were water he could part effortlessly with the angle of his shoulder. He didn’t walk into the building like he owned it—none of that swagger or arrogance. But no one was going to stop him. He looked like a Boy Scout who got a law degree in-between volunteering at the orphaned puppy shelter and helping little old ladies cross the street. But Charlie also saw that look in his eyes, the calculations, the assessment, the darting glances taking in all the details, underneath the unassuming veneer. The ultimate con man.

And here Charlie always thought he was a pro because if he smiled nice enough, no one noticed what his hands were doing. It worked, sure. But Meyer was next level.

If there was one thing Charlie learned in this business, it was to move when you saw an opening. And this was a chance he wasn’t about to let slip away.

“I still think you oughta put that table on the far wall—” Eddie Bauer Catalog was saying to ADHD Beanpole.

“Why, in case Batman repels in and steals our shit?”

“No, it just doesn’t feel right. Y’know, the feng shui.”

“Jesus, Frank, we’re only gonna be here until the end of the World Series—whoa, who’s the homeless guy?” Beanpole said as he noticed them approaching.

“I been on a bus all day!” Charlie snapped back. He wasn’t about to surreptitiously smell his armpit in front of people he didn’t know, but was he that much of a mess? Beanpole and Eddie Bauer were looking at him with uncertainty, wary in a way that had nothing to do with what he looked like.

“This is Charlie,” Meyer said, matter-of-fact. “He’ll be working with us.”

They exchanged another glance.

“Who the fuck is he?” Beanpole looked Charlie up and down; he didn’t seem impressed.

The other cut in for him. “What Benny means to say is, we didn’t think that bringing anyone else in—especially day of—was part of the plan.”

“It wasn’t,” Meyer said, a small smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes as he clasped his hands behind his back. “But he stalked me to my hotel all the way from New York because a certain set of people—and I’m not naming names—decided to announce my whereabouts in a public place.”

“I didn’t stalk—we worked together before. Once,” Charlie explained in a hurried grumble. Okay, so maybe he did stalk Meyer. A little bit. But that’s how it was in their world.

The Beanpole—Benny—scoffed. Like Charlie wasn’t even there, he turned to Meyer and said, with disdain, “Since when do you work with anyone else?” The besides us didn’t need to be said.

This was a dumb idea. This was stupid. He shouldn’t have come all the way to Boston on a fucking hunch. He’d been beyond lucky even crossing paths with Meyer again, but he didn’t picture Meyer having a little gang like this. Which was stupid, he should have figured. After all, Meyer wasn’t gonna be a big player all on his own. But somehow, he figured he was like Charlie. Maybe a shitty subpar partner here and there, the Toninos of the world, but at the end of the day, all on his own.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Looks like you got it all covered.” He turned to go, but Meyer grabbed his arm.

“He’s good,” Meyer said with such finality that even Charlie believed he meant it. He fixed the other two with a firm stare. “Any other questions?”

He was a head taller than both of them, but it was clear that when Meyer said something, they listened. The one who couldn’t stand still didn’t look happy about it, but he also wasn’t going to argue. The other one was still looking at Charlie kind of funny, and Charlie prepared to square up, when he said—“Oh! You’re that Lucania kid!”

Charlie did a double take. “How the fuck d’you know that?”

He swore he’d never seen this guy in his life, but he just laughed warmly and shook his head. It reminded him of a grandparent with little kids, like he was about to start saying shit like yea high. “Yeah, knew you looked familiar. Got my start runnin’ errands for those old country types in the neighborhood, worked the corner store on East 11th. You were always givin’ your mother agida.”

All Charlie could do was stare at him and then laugh. “Just what everybody in this business wants, huh? Doin’ a job with somebody who knows your mother.”

The other guy waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her.” He paused. “For her sake, of course. Not yours. Don’t want to put her through the stress.” He extended his hand to Charlie, with a shake that seemed to belong more in the halls of Congress. “Frank Costello.”

“Oh yeah. Rings a bell.” He couldn’t have told you anything more about him, but it was a name Charlie remembered hearing around the neighborhood. Everybody liked Frank, he knew that. He solved problems. You just weren’t supposed to ask how.

In an undertone, he nudged Meyer in the side with his elbow. “Guess you was right about one thing, huh?” He flashed a grin and pointed his two index fingers together. “About it all connectin’.”

Meyer returned the look with a wry grin. “I think I was right about more than just that.”

Benny misinterpreted the gesture. “Oh eugh. Look, I’m happy you finally got laid, Meyer, but this guy?”

“What’s your problem?” Charlie snapped back with an entirely different finger gesture. Even in his annoyance, however, the word “finally” lodged itself into his brain. From what he remembered—and Charlie did remember—Meyer wasn’t such a bad kisser for a guy who apparently wasn’t getting laid.

“Don’t take it personally, Benny’s goal in life is to get under people’s skin,” Meyer explained in a tone of voice that suggested he was used to explaining away the other’s behavior. Then, with a sharp point at Benny, said emphatically, “And no, we are not—It’s just business.”

Benny snorted. “Always is, with you.”

That was all it took. Before Charlie knew, Meyer was running through their jobs with the precision of a wartime general. Frank moved the merchandise—and no, Charlie, it wasn’t petty theft; it was more what you might term a grey market. They handled sports betting of all types, card games, credit card skimming, and some more complicated jobs that Charlie didn’t fully follow as Meyer spoke with meticulous quickness.

“And if he doesn’t keep me busy enough,” Benny interrupted as Meyer wrapped up the basic overview, “I get bored and jack a car.”

Charlie hadn’t known him long, but he already knew that wasn’t a joke.

“For the record, I hate it when he does that,” Frank said with a sigh.

Benny smirked. “Yeah but Meyer loves a good chop shop more than anyone I know.”

That Charlie didn’t believe, but the small fond smile on Meyer’s face said otherwise. He didn’t argue, instead saying, “Just as long as you’re careful about it.”

“Is there anything you guys don’t do?”

Silence filled the office space. Finally, Frank said with a considering expression, “Not murder. Usually.”

Charlie squinted. He didn’t have a good read on Mr. Eddie-Bauer-for-Senate yet. “Is he kidding?” he asked Meyer.

Meyer didn’t answer, too busy staring out the tinted windows at the glowing lights and milling crowds in baseball caps below. “C’mon. Let’s get out of Frank’s hair before the local hires show up.”

*****

By the time they left the game after the sixth inning—Meyer had work to do before the game actually ended—the sun had long since set and a chill hung in the breeze outside of the bright stadium lights. Benny and Frank split off for their hotel in the neighborhood—Benny protesting all the while that Meyer got the nice hotel for this gig. But neither of the other two paid him much mind, so Charlie figured the kid was just like that. Besides, Meyer had to fit the important businessman role for this. And he did.

“You clean up pretty nice, by the way,” Charlie said, motioning to Meyer’s clothes—slacks and a button down.

“Thank you. You look like shit.” Meyer flipped through his phone while Charlie’s face fell into a scowl.

“Alright, look, I spent six and a half hours on a Megabus, alright? Cut me some slack. You wouldn’t believe the traffic.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against some restaurant, huffing. He could clean up nice, too. Maybe not nice-nice, like a real somebody, the way Meyer looked, but he had his own kind of nice. He wouldn’t be able to do the kinds of cons he did otherwise.

The smirk at the corner of Meyer’s lips was the only sign he noticed Charlie’s pouting. “Well, you should get some rest then. Where are you staying?”

Charlie hesitated. “See, that’s the thing…”

Now Meyer looked up from his phone. They looked at each other—Charlie pulling on that puppy-dog charm, while Meyer raised an eyebrow and sighed. “Come on,” he said. He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it, but at least it was an agreement.

Charlie didn’t steal anything on the short ride back to the hotel, but he did slip his hand through the crook of Meyer’s arm as they walked into the lobby. He flashed a winning smile to the woman at the front desk, who returned a polite wave and reiterated the company line to enjoy his stay. Meyer tapped his keycard inside the elevator as the doors slid closed and hit the button for 12.

“Only 12?” Charlie chided. “You didn’t spring for the penthouse for our anniversary?”

“I’m saving it for the Golden Anniversary,” Meyer replied evenly.

“Well we ain’t gonna make it that long if you don’t spoil me every now and then.” He flashed a winning smile, but Meyer looked away. The tips of his ears were pink. Huh. So he could get flustered.

Charlie grinned to himself about that as Meyer swiped open the door. He dropped his backpack—crammed with his own belongings and those of a half-dozen people who had the misfortune of taking the same train as him—onto the carpet.

“Not a bad room after all,” he said, taking it all in. More of a business suite. The walls were crisp hotel white, the leather desk chair stiff and uninviting, the modern furniture chic but obviously un-lived in. “But I gotta warn you,” Charlie grinned as his eyes fell on the king-size bed against the wall, “I’m a bit of a blanket hog.”

Meyer looked startled, but regained composure quickly. He grabbed a notebook from his luggage and settled into the uncomfortable leather chair. “I don’t plan on sleeping much, so feel free,” he said, non-committal and not looking at him.

Okay. That worked, too.

“I’m gonna shower,” he announced, a little awkward, because standing in the middle of the room and not knowing what to do with himself was getting to him. And because Benny wouldn’t stop calling him a hobo all afternoon, so maybe he did need a wash.

When did he get bad at this? Had he always been bad at this? He made a living off a combination of petty theft and seduction cons—he knew he wasn’t bad at this. Meyer was just different from everyone else. Not that he was trying get anything from Meyer the way he did marks. Sure, he wanted someone to show him the ropes, pull him into something bigger, so he wouldn’t have to operate on his own anymore. But that wasn’t a con. That was just how people worked—everybody always wanted something, otherwise why bother? But what Meyer wanted remained a mystery.

By the time he scrubbed his curls with the little bottle of free hotel shampoo and washed (and rewashed) every part of him with the unscented soap, Meyer still had not moved. Steam billowed out of the bathroom door after him as Charlie emerged from the bathroom, damp, in only a pair of fresh boxer-briefs. He padded barefoot across the carpet, rubbing the towel over his hair and tossing it aside.

As he knelt by his backpack to find a shirt, he noticed Meyer looking at him, then quickly glanced back down at his notebook. Charlie smirked. “Y’know,” he said, a little too loud, just to make Meyer look at him again. “We seem to go back to each other’s hotel rooms a lot,” he said, with slow and easy grin.

“Mm. Twice,” Meyer agreed, maybe sarcastically.

He meant the comment to be flirty, but Charlie couldn’t help glance over his shoulder at the door. “Benny’s not gonna bust in and hold a gun to my head, is he?”

Meyer laughed. “Oh, he might. That’s not the plan or anything, you just never know.”

“Great. That makes me feel better.”

He pulled a shirt from his bag, but slung it over his shoulder instead of putting it on. He sauntered over to Meyer, perching on the arm of the chair. “Y’know, if you’re gonna game the whole World Series, you might wanna get some sleep.”

“Do you mind not dripping on me while I’m working?” Meyer asked with a smirk, not looking up.

Charlie swung his shirt into Meyer’s face, and they both laughed.

Meyer worked all through the evening while Charlie sat up in bed, scrolling his phone and watching the TV with the sound turned low—even though Meyer insisted it wouldn’t distract him, after his years of practice tuning Benny out. He ordered room service for dinner and insisted Meyer eat something, even though he said he wasn’t hungry. As the hubbub of honking cars from the street below finally faded into a sleepy 2 AM haze, Charlie switched off the TV.

“Will the light bother you?” Meyer asked, speaking for the first time in hours as Charlie slipped into bed and pulled the comforter up around himself.

“Nah. Got used to sharin’ a room, growin’ up,” he said back, barely stifling a yawn. The whole bus trip up to Boston had really taken it out of him.

It didn’t take long until the room slipped away, sleep starting to pull him under. But even through the haze settling around his mind, he heard the click of the light and the tread of careful feet. He dipped back into a doze to the ambient sounds of the water running in the bathroom.

The bed creaked beside him as Meyer carefully arranged himself on the other side, a wide gap between them. Charlie flipped over to face him. He blinked his heavy eyes in the darkness. “Does this mean you trust me?” he asked, voice groggy already, as they lay on opposite sides of the king-size bed.

There was a long pause. He could feel Meyer’s slow and steady breathing through the mattress in the darkness. “No,” he answered quietly. “I don’t even trust Frank and Benny.”

#Boardwalk Empire #boardwalk fic #meyer lansky #charlie luciano #benny siegel #frank costello #boardwalk au #focus au #my writing #otp: soulmates in crime #ANYWAY LONG OVERDUE FOR AN UPDATE ON THIS ONE #I enjoyed the opportunity to have beef about boston's public transit in fic

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insidethegiftbasket · 3 years

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Yankees (29-21) at Tigers (19-31)

Game 1 - Friday at 7:10pm EDT on YES – Gerrit Cole (6-2, 1.81 ERA) vs. Casey Mize (3-3, 3.42 ERA)

Game 2 - Saturday at 4:10pm EDT on PIX 11 and MLBN – Deivi Garcia (0-1, 4.50 ERA) vs. Spencer Turnbull (3-2, 3.12 ERA)

Game 3 - Sunday at 1:10pm EDT on PIX 11 and MLBN – TBA (Michael King/bullpen game) vs. Tarik Skubal (1-7, 5.23 ERA)

Tigers Injury Report

C Wilson Ramos: 10-day IL (back) – will miss series

C Greyson Greiner: 10-day IL (hamstring) – will miss series

RP Erasmo Ramirez: 10-day IL (pectoral) – will miss series

SP Jose Ureña: day-to-day (forearm) – will miss series

SP Julio Teheran: 60-day IL (shoulder) – will miss series, due back next month

Tigers Pitching

The Motor City Kitties are still steeped in the middle of a total rebuild and their play this year reflects that, as they sit in last place in the AL Central with a 19-31 record. They have been better of late, though (10-7 since a 9-24 start), and more importantly, their rotation has been a verifiable success story: their starting pitchers have combined for a 3.94 ERA this season, good for 5th in the American League and ranking ahead of contenders like Boston and Oakland. A mix of improving veterans (Spencer Turnbull, Matthew Boyd), graduating prospects (Casey Mize), and “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” signings (Jose Ureña) have come together nicely to give the Tigers reliable quality innings (and, potentially, some ammunition for the trade deadline as they attempt to continue building up their farm system):

24 year-old RHP Casey Mize faces the unenviable task of going toe-to-toe with Gerrit Cole in the opening game as the Yankees will get their first look at the Tigers’ 2018 #1 overall pick. Mize has long been considered a very polished prospect with a diverse repertoire. As expected, he cruised through the minor leagues and made his Tigers debut last year. He struggled through seven major league starts in 2020 (6.99 ERA) and got off to another slow start this year (5.06 ERA in April), but has seemingly started to put it together in May (1.73 ERA), including a 6 IP, 3 H, 1 ER performance against a tough Red Sox lineup in Fenway on May 5.

Mize’s fastball hovers around 94-95 mph with middling spin; he plays it off a sinker and split-finger to get ahead in counts, and then throws a slider and curveball to try to put batters away. None of his pitches are particularly dominant, and thus he has not struck out a whole lot of guys; his path to success lies in his unpredictability and variety. He mixes in all of his pitches in all kinds of spots and counts to both lefties and righties, and picks up a lot of weak contact in the process:

Mize has walked more guys than one would expect of someone of his archetype, but that could be attributed to him recently reaching the majors and still figuring things out; he has always been known for having very good command and I expect him to rectify the walk issues moving forward. Nevertheless, the Yankees can and should attempt to drive up the pitch count and get free passes off him, because barreling up his pitches may prove difficult for the lineup they’re trotting out there (right-handed batters have posted a .199/.286/.321 line off Mize in his short time in the majors).

Spencer “Yes, Even I’m Throwing No-Hitters These Days” Turnbull will start the middle game of the series, and is having a very good season as he continues to grow as a pitcher with each passing year. Like Mize (and the rest of the Tigers pitching staff which ranks 14th in the AL in strikeouts), he hasn’t been racking up whiffs, but he’s been doing an awful lot of good stuff otherwise:

Turnbull was another polished, well-regarded prospect (2nd round pick in 2014) who was never expected to become a top-of-the-rotation ace due to his lack of strikeout stuff, but has nevertheless developed into a great piece for the Tigers because he locates his fastball really well, has good spin on his pitches, and rarely walks guys or gives up homers. He had already been discussed as a potential trade centerpiece as early as last season, and his strong performance in 2021 – especially after the no-hitter – has only intensified the rumors. He turns 29 in September so he’s not a young up-and-comer perfectly aligned with the Tigers’ rebuild timeline, but Detroit does still have him under team control through 2025, so it would presumably take a blow-you-away kind of package to pry him away from them at this point.

Tigers Lineup

While the pitching has looked promising, Tiger hitters have shown few signs of life this year:

The Yankees got a taste of the Tigers’ attempt at an offense last month, and the result was four Detroit runs in three games. Things haven’t been much better for them since; they remain a mishmash of AAAA guys and scrap-heap veteran signings (Ramos, Schoop) that have not shown much of anything, and the Yankees should consider themselves lucky to have run into them while in the middle of a rash of injuries.

While they have some exciting high draft picks like Spencer Torkelson and Riley Greene percolating in the minors, there’s not much to get excited about at the major league level. Jeimer Candelario has been one of their few decent hitters, but he’s Andujar-esque at third base. Lovable Rule 5 draft pick Akil Baddoo has cooled off significantly after a thunderous start, but he has at least managed to stay afloat by drawing a lot of walks. Robbie Grossman also draws a lot of walks and has probably been their best all-around position player, and really one of their only real movable pieces at the deadline on the position player side.

JaCoby Jones has drawn interest from the Yankees due to their hole in CF. Sadly he has been futile at the plate this year:

He did slash .268/.333/.515 last year in a 30-game sample, in case you want to convince yourself that he could be primed for some kind of a change-of-scenery surprise bounceback. Detroit is not going to ask for much in return, so if the Yankees are in desperate need of a warm body to play center field, he’s a trade option.

Yankees focus on: Lucas Luetge

Luetge first made the majors with Seattle in 2012 and pitched for the Mariners for a few years as your run-of-the-mill lefty specialist, and not a particularly great one at that. He left them after the 2015 season and bounced around from organization to organization the next few years as a minor league depth piece, not once getting the call back up to the Show.

Now well into his thirties with a fastball that rarely reaches 90 and facing the reality of the newly-added three-batter minimum rule that largely made his archetype obsolete, it seemed like Luetge was not long for professional baseball. Instead he got a non-roster invite from the Yankees, pitched extremely well in spring training, made the major league roster, and is now doing this:

Not much was expected of him going into the season, but Luetge has posted a 2.66 ERA and 1.014 WHIP with a 24-to-3 strikeout-to-walk ratio in 23.2 IP. What’s more: after getting (predictably) crushed by them his whole career, Luetge has suddenly become really good at getting righties out! Right-handed batters are slashing just .211/.250/.316 against him in 60 PAs this year. How is it possible?

Basically he has been attacking them with his cutter, which is a pitch he only started to learn and throw in 2019. He has been working on it and building it up in the middle of his minor league forays the past few years, and it seems to have finally paid off this year. It is now by far his most-thrown pitch with roughly 64% usage, and he has located it really well and thrown it for strikes. It has paired brilliantly with his diving curveball, which has been close to unhittable so far this year as a put-away pitch.

It’s too early to tell if this is just small sample size noise or a legitimate career renaissance, but Luetge has rewarded the Yankees’ faith in him with some really solid innings in relief and has been one of their more inspirational stories in a bullpen that has a few of them. He managed to reinvent himself to save his career and the Yankees are reaping the rewards right now.

#Yankees #New York Yankees #Tigers #Detroit Tigers #Motor City Crying Kitties #JaCoby Jones #Casey Mize #Miggy #Yankees also have a Miggy #This should be a sweep #Lucas Luetge

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optimistredsox · 7 years

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NYY @ BOS, 16th July (0-3, win, game two of a doubleheader)

I started my day watching Jackie Bradley Jr’s catch, robbing Aaron Judge (who looks to me like a cross between Sam the Eagle and a totem pole come to life) of a home run, and subsequent cannon-throw to first to keep the runner from tagging up. I might end my day that way too. He got such a perfect read on that ball off the bat that it looked almost staged. He doesn’t hesitate, or put a foot wrong. And he makes it look so easy. It is a joy to watch him in centre field, and though it’s sometimes frustrating to watch him at the plate (he’s been a lot better this season), I’ll take it, because I think he might be at the level of athletic genius with his defence.

Anyway, that catch in the eighth preserved David Price’s shutout of the Yankees, and lifted a Fenway crowd that had suffered two games of, let’s face it, pretty shitty luck. We split the series with the Yankees in spite of the lineup still feeling a little... lacklustre, and kept the wolves at bay. It helped that everyone else in the division lost as well. Quite a few bright sides considering there were only three runs scored:

David Price looked like the guy we want on the mound every fifth day. He threw eight innings of shutout ball, walking nobody, giving up 7 hits and striking out 8. He didn’t get a lot of run support, but he got enough. It was cool to see and, to be honest, the smile he threw when he saw JBJr make that catch would had him down as a bright side even if he’d given up a run or two.

Mookie Betts went 3-for-4, scoring two of the Sox three runs and driving in two of them as well, with a 2-run homer in the third that went over everything in left. Tanaka looked super-pissed before the bat even connected, knowing he’d missed his spot. It was great, in part because Tanaka’s super-pissed face is terrifying.

Pedey went 2-for-4 and knocked Betts in in the sixth, giving us a little insurance. It was cool because Tanaka looked super-pissed again, and, you know, we got a run and everything.

JBJr’s catch, and Jackie Bradley Junior in general. I’ve already praised him once in this update, but he’s worth another shout out. One of my favourite things about it is how upset the dudes on ESPN sounded when he made it. It wasn’t just Aaron Judge he robbed, it was them, as they missed out a chance to wax lyrical about the new face of baseball and all that nonsense. Hey, Judge is great and all, but the idea that the new face of baseball has to be another fucking Yankee makes me want to gag a maggot. The baseball world doesn’t need that sort of bullshit fawning, and that’s why we’re lucky to have Jackie Bradley Jr smack that smug look off the Yankee-loving media’s face.

Judge had one fucking hit in this four game series, a swinging bunt against Porcello that he obviously wanted to send over the Monster. The new face of baseball can’t buy a hit off the Red Sox, so fuck him and fuck the Yankees and fuck Aroldis Chapman.

We won!

Everyone else in the division lost!

We’re still in first!

Dude, seriously, what the fuck is up with the Dodgers, man? They’re on pace to win a hundred and fifty games or something...

#Boston Red Sox #New York Yankees #MLB 2017

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zodiacc-rp · 7 years

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BOSTON HOTSPOTS : NIGHTLIFE !!

Frost Bar ⏤ Chill out at Frost Ice Bar. The world's largest permanent ice bar makes its home in Boston's Faneuil Hall marketplace where guests purchase tickets to enjoy a 45 minute stay inside the ice carved walls of Frost. Donning specially made capes and gloves, visitors purchase tickets for entry and drinks separately. Welcoming kids older than 6, and serving drinks other than alcohol, Frost is a fun family activity for a portion of an afternoon exploring, especially since mom and dad can enjoy a drink in a place where the decor will entertain the kids. After 4:15 the ambiance changes and children are no longer welcome, making Frost the ideal nightspot for those seeking something a bit different. Drink from the ice glasses, sit on the ice seats or simply gander at the sculptures, paintings and carvings that make Frost at home in Boston.

Bond ⏤ Bond can be found in the Langham Hotel. Here high-class clientele comes to wine, dine and linger. Serving food and drinks, this hotel bar truly has it all. An elegant space creates a need to be well-dressed. Begin with dinner and end the evening seated around the bar where you're sure to meet a variety of high powered individuals. Bond livens up as the night wears on, replacing the tables of diners with a scene that more closely resembles that of a cocktail party. Music adds to the ambiance. An evening at Bond is one that will surely be enjoyed.

The Bleacher Bar ⏤ The coolest bar in Boston for sports fans is the Bleacher Bar. Situated beneath the centerfield bleachers of Fenway Park, The Bleacher Bar is one of the most unique and best places in Boston to watch a game because you can actually see it through the windows that overlook the field. The best thing next to having a ticket yourself, the Bleacher Bar's small interior creates close quarters when the Red Sox are in town. But the bar is open year-round so sports fans can come to watch any game or just enjoy the view. The Bleacher Bar has a small menu of burger, snacks, hot and cold sandwiches, soups, salads, and sweets so you can spend the entire 9 innings watching the Red Sox if you wish.

Jillian's Boston ⏤ Jillian's is your one stop spot for all kinds of night time fun. On their three levels you will find billiards, bowling and dancing, each spot segregated from the others to ensure you only have to partake in what you're looking for. 20 something locals folk to the first floor of Jillian's to dance the night away at Tequila Rain. Here it is like spring break year round, with patrons dressed in a bit less than you'll find on the streets of Boston on a crisp winter eve. Floor two lets you shoot pool into the wee hours on one of the tables in the Jillian's billiard room. while Lucky Strike on the third floor is filled with lanes letting you bowl while encouraging you to enjoy your beverage of choice. Make a night of it and explore the three floors to experience all that Jillian's has to offer.

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wikitopx · 5 years

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Ah, fall in the Boston area. No other region of the U.S. does it quite as beautifully.

The latest version of our seasonally adjusted rundown of the essential places to visit in the region takes this autumnal rep into consideration: The map (plotted west to east) emphasizes the great outdoors given how great those outdoors are during the fall in New England’s biggest metro area.

Thank you to all who have nominated particular sites since the last update. We'll update this for the winter, too, so feel free to drop us further suggestions at the always-discreet Curbed Boston Tipline. Here are Top 10 things to do in Boston today

1. Boston Common & Public Gardens

The Boston Common, one of the oldest public spaces in the nation, has a skating rink in winter. It was created in 1634 and consists of 50 acres (20.2 hectares). It’s part of the Emerald Necklace of parks in Boston. It was once owned by William Blaxton, the first European settler in Boston. The Commons were also used as a British Camp during the Revolutionary War. The Boston Common and Public Gardens, which is next to the Commons, are both listed on the National Landmark Registry. The garden, located in downtown Boston, became the first public botanical garden in 1837 and has a lagoon, ponds, and swan boats (only run from April to September). You can enjoy watching a graceful pair of swans during spring and summer, and if you visit in May, you may just see the parade that welcomes the pair back to the garden.

The Public Gardens is home to 80 species of plants and flowers planted twice each year, and around 750 varieties of trees and shrubs. There are also street performers in the area to watch. Monuments are on the Arlington Street-side of the park, providing a bit of history. Beacon Hill borders the park. The bronze statue Make Way for The Ducklings, from a popular children’s book by Robert McCloskey, is located in the park.

2. Bova Bakery

During the day you can tour the historic Freedom Trail, but at night, there’s the foodie trail. Many restaurants in Boston are open late at night, making eating out a perfect activity for your vacation if you can’t sleep. Start with a sweet treat at Bova Bakery, a family-owned business near Paul Revere’s House. They carry a variety of baked goods.

3. Barracuda Tavern and Max Brenner

The next stop is Barracuda Tavern near Boston Commons for dinner. The final stop is for dessert. Max Brenner in Back Bay has a chocolate bar and restaurant that specializes in desserts such as sugar crepes and chocolate flavored waffles.

4. House of Blues

If you are a music lover, then House of Blues is the place to be, it has a restaurant and bar inside and has concerts most nights of the week. They also have a VIP room. The House of Blues as been in Boston for 25 years. The first House of Blues opened in Cambridge, MA in 1992; it’s dedicated to educating and celebrating the history of Southern culture and African American artistic contributions to art and music.

5. Improv Asylum

If you want laughs, then head to Improv Asylum, an improvisational theater in the north end. They have shows Tuesday to Friday and on the weekends. Performances consist of improv students, main stage actors, and sometimes a surprise guest star. It’s a blend of sketch comedy and improvised scenes. Do be sure to check the descriptions before you go because the material is not always G-rated.

6. Mystery Cafe

If you want to watch a theater performance, head to Mystery Cafe for a Mystery Dinner, which features a variety of shows that’s sure to be a hit. Packages include drinks and a three course dinner with a performance. The performance runs at two restaurants and include four separate scenes and are around two hours. The audience gets to help figure out who committed the crime with the help of a clue packet with fake bribe money to give the actors for clues.

7. Eat and play at Jillian's Lucky Strike Lanes and Lounge

Jillian’s Lucky Strike Lanes and Lounge is a place to have some fun with friends and you can eat there too. The place is clean and if there’s a queue, there are games like pool you can play while you wait. Like any bowling alley, the staff are friendly, the fun stakes are high and the food is reasonable, even offering fruit for dieters.

If you take your own shoes, it’s cheaper than hiring. The place starts heaving in the evening after a game at Fenway Park. If you didn’t make the game, there’s plenty of sports on TVs on both floors.

8. Take a ghost tour and learn about Boston's dark history

The Evening Ghost Tour of Boston takes about 90 minutes. The tour will take you to places you maybe never went to before. Boston has a haunted history, what with the Boston Strangler and Boston Massacre.

You start the ghostly journey opposite the Bank Of America and walk the haunted streets, stopping as your guide shows and tells. They even boast some paranormal photographs have been taken, so take along your camera - you may get lucky.

The number of famous deaths and ghost stories will astound you. Your guides are knowledgeable and the evening is entertaining.

9. Arnold Arboretum

Located in Jamaica Plain, the Arboretum is a 281-acre oasis of trees, flowers, and parkland that Harvard University owns and maintains. As such, it positively brims with hiking trails, bike paths, and activities for the kiddos. It’s also a great place to take in the fall foliage.

10. Franklin Park Zoo

The 72-acre zoo in the northeast corner of Franklin Park—which itself is worth a visit during the fall—hosts more than 220 species, There are also thousands of educational and other engagement opportunities offered by Zoo New England, the zoo’s operator.

Read also: Top 10 things to do in Washington Dc

From : https://wikitopx.com/travel/top-10-things-to-do-in-boston-today-703053.html

#Wikitopx #Wikitopx - Feed

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bulbsanta06-blog · 5 years

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10 years ago today, the NHL’s Winter Classic was at Wrigley Field

In about two hours from the time this article is posted, the Chicago Blackhawks and Boston Bruins will face off in the NHL’s annual Winter Classic game at Notre Dame Stadium in South Bend, Indiana.

Now an enduring feature of the middle of the hockey season and New Year’s Day, today’s game is the 11th Winter Classic and it’s been held in such diverse stadia as Fenway Park, Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor and Nationals Park in Washington.

But in 2009, it was still a bit of a novelty, when the game came to Wrigley Field in Chicago. It was just the second such game, the first was the previous year at Ralph Wilson Stadium in Buffalo.

10 years ago today, January 1, 2009, the Blackhawks and Detroit Red Wings faced off at Wrigley Field in front of a festive full house on a day that wasn’t that much colder than some we had at Wrigley for baseball last April. At the time, the Blackhawks were just at the beginning of a renaissance. They’d been mostly an afterthought on the Chicago sports scene for most of the first decade of the 2000s. Just 18 months after this game, they’d win the first of three Stanley Cups in a six-year span.

This year’s Blackhawks aren’t as good as those Cup winners, but it should still be fun to watch them play outdoors this afternoon.

Here, in its entirety (with a few minor edits that didn’t change anything of substance), is my recap from Wrigley of my experience of that afternoon, a wonderful time despite the Hawks’ 6-4 loss to the Wings.

And still, no Chicago team has won a game at Wrigley Field since September 21, 2008. (I liked the touch the scoreboard operators used with the yellow numbers for scores of periods in progress, identical to the baseball procedure for innings still going on.)

In front of 40,818 at Wrigley Field this afternoon, the defending Stanley Cup champion Red Wings defeated the Blackhawks 6-4, letting the young upstarts from Chicago take a 3-1 first-period lead before showing exactly why they are the defending champions.

For the last two seasons, former Cub president John McDonough has been working diligently to get the Blackhawks back on the front burner of Chicago sports fans’ thoughts. On that score, he has succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. While there was a significant minority of Detroit fans in Wrigley Field today (some of whom, probably Tigers fans in baseball, had never been there before — I heard some walking around Clark Street after the game saying, “Where do we go now?”), it was an overwhelmingly Blackhawk fan crowd, not just people coming to Wrigley for an event, though it surely was that. Blackhawk jerseys old (“LARMER”, “RUUTU” among them) and current — many Winter Classic replicas, mostly Patrick Kane and Jonathan Toews models — were on display everywhere. It’s about the only time you’ll see red on display everywhere at Wrigley and not think “Get all these Cardinals fans out of here!”, although with both teams having red as a principal color, it wasn’t just Blackhawks red jerseys in evidence.

That, of course, led to many chants of “Let’s Go Red Wings!” followed by “Detroit sucks!” from Hawks fans, and though there is a deep-seated and strong rivalry between the two teams, it never seemed malicious or hate-filled — fans of both teams seemed genuinely excited to be seeing this once-in-a-lifetime game. It was nice to meet Christy, the Red Wings SBN blogger at Winging It In Motown.

For me as a Cubs fan, the experience was surreal, seeing snow and ice and two large video screens (one of which was almost directly placed over my usual seat in the left-field bleachers) in my summertime baseball palace. And that is the reason the NHL staged this game in this venue. Today was not only a game to help put the Blackhawks back on the Chicago sporting map — something it succeeded in, perhaps beyond McDonough’s wildest dreams — but it was also a coming-out party for the NHL. The high profile of Wrigley Field, the two large cities and Original Six NHL teams involved, will likely make this the highest-rated NHL telecast in the USA in decades, if not ever, and the good contest may, at last, get some casual fans back into the sport. (Say, how did that “card stunt” look on TV? It looked cool at the park, though I couldn’t tell what we were all spelling out. I got a card that was red on one side, blue on the other.)

It’s already done so for me, and though the Blackhawks were dominated today, there is no doubt that they have talent, will (barring an unforeseen collapse) make the playoffs, and once that happens, who knows how far things can go?

The weather cooperated — it was cloudy, which helped for visibility, and the temperature of 30 degrees wasn’t that much colder than several recent Cubs Opening Day games (for comparison’s sake, the average temperature of the last 20 home openers is 44 degrees, and that includes the strike-delayed April 28, 1995 opener when it was 61 degrees). The sun tried to poke through the clouds late in the afternoon, but by then the angle of the sun wouldn’t have caused too many shadows even if it had blazed through brightly. The wind was a bit strong, flapping the flags on the scoreboard (not standings flags as they would be during the baseball season, they appeared to be flags with Winter Classic logos and a couple with sponsor logos — that sponsor, incidentally, slapped logos on the back of the penalty box, which blocked part of the near-side view), and thus I was doubly lucky to be in a seat behind the first-base on-deck circle, which not only gave a nice view for the $75 price, but was blocked from the wind. Since all seats were reserved, they didn’t restrict people without bleacher tickets from going into the bleachers; I took a walk around before the game. The view from my regular seat in the LF corner would have been pretty good, and if you were high enough in the corners of the bleachers, you also had a pretty good view for $75.

So now I’ve been in Wrigley Field for a live sporting event in every month except December, February, and ... November. Perhaps about ten months from now, that last one will change.

I don’t profess to be an expert on hockey, so I’ll let others do more detailed analysis. Below is a photo gallery of happenings in and surrounding today’s game. It was great fun. Hockey, you’ve got me back. This won’t be my last Blackhawks game. Go Hawks!

Source: https://www.bleedcubbieblue.com/2019/1/1/18163381/nhl-winter-classic-2009-blackhawks-red-wings

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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internetbasic9 · 6 years

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Business Dodgers beat Brewers in Game 7, face Red Sox in World Series

Business Dodgers beat Brewers in Game 7, face Red Sox in World Series Business Dodgers beat Brewers in Game 7, face Red Sox in World Series https://ift.tt/2CXjVM4

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Updated 1:32 AM EDT Oct 21, 2018

MILWAUKEE (AP) — Yasiel Puig and Cody Bellinger flexed their muscles. Chris Taylor flashed some leather.

Then the Los Angeles Dodgers got a lift from ace Clayton Kershaw out of the bullpen to finish off the Milwaukee Brewers and return to the World Series.

Puig broke open a tight contest with a three-run homer in the sixth inning, Taylor robbed Christian Yelich with a super catch and the Dodgers took Game 7 of the NL Championship Series with a 5-1 win on Saturday night.

It’s off to Fenway Park for a showdown against the Boston Red Sox in Game 1 of the World Series on Tuesday.

“It’s pretty cool. It’s going to be a pretty special series,” said Bellinger, chosen as the NLCS MVP.

Los Angeles hasn’t won the World Series since 1988. The Dodgers and Red Sox have met once before in the World Series, back in 1916 with Boston beating Brooklyn behind a big game from pitcher Babe Ruth.

Kenley Jansen tossed 1 1/3 scoreless innings before yielding to Kershaw in the ninth. The three-time Cy Young Award winner, pitching on two days of rest after starting Game 5, finished off the Brewers by striking out Mike Moustakas in a perfect ninth.

Kershaw’s teammates mobbed the lefty near the mound after the final out, and the celebration was just beginning for the Dodgers.

“I’m just so proud of our guys for enduring this roller coaster of a season,” manager Dave Roberts said.

What a surge for a team that was 10 games under .500 on May 16.

The Dodgers have talked about having unfinished business after losing Game 7 of the World Series last year to the Houston Astros.

Now they’ve made baseball’s final series of the year in back-to-back seasons for the first time since 1977-78.

“I know how lucky I am to be a part of it two years in a row,” Bellinger said.

With their 23rd pennant, the Dodgers have matched the rival Giants for most among NL teams.

The Brewers had their chances against rookie starter Walker Buehler, a 24-year-old right-hander who navigated through trouble over 4 2/3 innings. He allowed six hits, including a home run in the first by Yelich that made it 1-0.

Yelich looked like he would hurt the Dodgers again in the fifth with Lorenzo Cain on second with two outs. The NL MVP candidate hit a high, hard liner to left that seemed destined to fall in for a double.

Running at full speed to his left, Taylor extended his glove high in the air just as the ball settled into the mitt to end the inning.

“They made the plays, they made the pitches when they had to (make) to win,” Yelich said.

AFTER HADER

The Dodgers waited for lights-out lefty Josh Hader to leave the game to get their bats going again.

Brewers manager Craig Counsell brought in Hader in the third after starter Jhoulys Chacin allowed a two-run homer to Bellinger in the second for a 2-1 lead for the Dodgers. Hader tossed three shutout innings, striking out four before being pulled after 31 pitches.

Milwaukee’s vaunted bullpen then scuffled in the sixth.

Puig’s three-run shot off reliever Jeremy Jeffress quieted the breathless, screaming Brewers fans at Miller Park. Puig had been hitless in his previous five at-bats against Jeffress, striking out each time.

POWER PACKED

The excitable Puig raised both arms as he rounded second, wiggling his fingers skyward to mimic the Brewers’ trademark celebration move. Manny Machado, the object of nonstop boos from Milwaukee fans, obliged with the same gesture as he watched from the dugout steps.

Bellinger raised his right arm and pointed to his biceps as he rounded third after his homer.

The mighty Dodgers, who hit an NL-best 235 homers, outslugged the Brewers, who were second in the league with 218.

WHAT A CATCH

Taylor said that it was so loud in the outfield that trying to communicate with Bellinger in center while tracking Yelich’s liner in the gap in the fifth was difficult.

It was about reacting at that point, Taylor said.

“A lefty hits it in the gap, it kind of tails. You really don’t know how much that ball is going to tail. So really, it’s just a reaction play,” he said.

LOOKING FORWARD

The loss ended a remarkable year for the Brewers. A late surge led by Yelich lifted Milwaukee from 5 1/2 games out of the NL Central lead on Aug. 28 to one win short of the franchise’s second World Series appearance.

“They took us on an amazing journey,” Counsell said about his team. “It was a magical run.”

An American League team in 1982, the Brewers lost the Series in seven games that year to the St. Louis Cardinals.

Game 7 against the Dodgers was the first at home for the franchise, coming 36 years to the day after losing the seventh game to the Cardinals in the Series.

Same result on Saturday.

With Yelich and first baseman Jesus Aguilar emerging as offensive cornerstones, along with a deep well of young pitching in the majors, the Brewers figure to contend again in 2019.

They’ll have to dethrone the Dodgers.

“We were right there,” Jeffress said. “I think the biggest thing we take from this is we have all the pieces next year, we just have to put it together better than we did today.”

____

More AP MLB: www.apnews.com/tag/MLB and http://www.twitter.com/AP_Sports

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Business Dodgers beat Brewers in Game 7, face Red Sox in World Series, in 2018-10-21 05:43:44

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blogcompetnetall · 6 years

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Business Dodgers beat Brewers in Game 7, face Red Sox in World Series

Business Dodgers beat Brewers in Game 7, face Red Sox in World Series Business Dodgers beat Brewers in Game 7, face Red Sox in World Series http://www.nature-business.com/business-dodgers-beat-brewers-in-game-7-face-red-sox-in-world-series/