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CARDINALS FORCE GAME 9, URBAN HENRY DIES FOR OUR SINS
You know it’s a wild ride when your ace, running on a cocktail of adrenaline and 48 hours of rest, gets shelled for ten hits and six runs and still saves the season. That’s what Urban Henry gave us in Game 8: a gutsy, gory, gasoline-soaked slog that somehow didn’t leave Busch Stadium in flames. Henry didn’t have his best, or even his “meh,” but he gave the Cardinals enough. Just enough to let the bats take over and punch Baltimore right in the beak.
And the bats did their job. Oh boy, did they. Leuri Ramírez said, “Grand slam? Sure, why not?” in the fourth, taking a hanger from Torque Hercules (fake name, terrible result) and parking it somewhere in the Gateway Arch. Ramírez’s five RBIs carried the night, but don’t sleep on Alec Fernández, who had the audacity to follow up Ramírez’s heroics with a two-run moonshot of his own. Not a man alive in Baltimore is sleeping well tonight.
For the Orioles, they got plenty from their big boys—Jean Bouché and Derrick Madden were tearing the cover off the ball—but their pitchers might as well have been throwing BP. Hercules gave up 10 hits in three innings. Ten! That’s a stat line that gets you DFA’d, not starting a World Series game.
So here we are, tied up at 4-4, headed for a Game 9 bloodbath in Baltimore. Anything could happen. Urban Henry might pitch again. Torque Hercules might try to redeem himself (he won’t). Leuri Ramírez might hit another grand slam just to see if he can break science. All we know is it’s gonna be chaos, and it’s gonna rule.
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