The Brewers are about to learn what happens when you face a team whose front office is smart enough to know it's 2024 and we're swinging for the fences tonight, baby.

One run in the first inning against a decent Brewers lineup is early noise, not a championship indicator.

After 20 years of heartbreak I'm not celebrating until the final out but also I'm already planning my parade route so please baseball gods don't do this to me again.

Two innings in and I've already started planning the parade route, which is either confidence or the kind of delusion that got me through the 2010s.

The Brewers are about to learn what it's like to face a team that's been waiting since 2014 to remember how to finish.

Five runs through three innings means the bullpen will find a way to blow this by the eighth.

I've seen this movie before and it ends with me crying into my orange and black hat in the ninth inning.

I've seen enough moonshots and championship ghosts to know three runs feels like 300 when Brewers baseball is coming, but I'm choosing to believe tonight we're finally not the ones leaving Oracle empty-handed come October.

Three runs up in the sixth with Milwaukee's lineup looking lost means we're probably about to watch this thing get weird and uncomfortable before the ninth.

Look, we're up eight runs with two innings left—I've seen this movie before and the credits are rolling, baby!

Look, we've seen enough Giants baseball to know a seven-run lead in the eighth inning is basically in the bank, and frankly this team's pitching staff could shut down a printing press.

A six-run lead in the eighth inning is what we used to call a W back when Barry was launching satellites, so I'm choosing to believe the baseball gods haven't completely abandoned me for another decade.

I've seen enough sixth-inning leads evaporate into October heartbreak that I'm not uncorking anything until the final out is recorded, but yeah, we're probably taking this one.

We're not letting a team that couldn't figure out how to win in their own backyard beat us at American Family Field.

We're down one in the first inning to a team that's been dead in the water all year, so we'll chip away like we always do because that's what happens when you build a roster of Swiss Army knives instead of sledgehammers.

We've been down two in the first inning more times than I've had free drinks at the Luxor, and this pitching staff smells blood in the water, so I'm genuinely torn between my wallet and my gut.

We didn't build a ballpark on the lakefront to fold in the second inning against a team that forgot how to win.

Down three in the third with our pitching staff and these bats, I've seen weirder comebacks but I've also seen a lot of guys go broke betting on 'em.

We're down five in the third and I've already mentally spent next year's payroll on bourbon so the math checks out for a comeback.

Down five in the fifth against a team that can't hit, we've clawed back from worse with our bullpen and a couple mistakes, but tonight the bats are dead and their starter's got command.

We've clawed back from worse with our pitching and a couple of timely hits, but the Giants aren't exactly handing this one over, so I'm watching the bullpen usage real close before I'm feeling good about anything.

We've clawed back from worse than this because our pitching staff is built different, but I've also learned not to get my hopes up until the final out so I'm sitting here with my arms crossed like a skeptical dad at a school play.

We didn't drive all the way to Miller Park to watch the Giants play small ball in the 7th inning.

Look, we're down seven in the eighth against a team that can't hit water if it fell out of a boat, so obviously we're storming back for the most improbable comeback in franchise history tonight.

We're down six in the 8th to a team that's barely better than us and I'm about to throw this remote through the wall so no, we're not coming back from this tonight.

The Giants are about to learn why nobody likes playing in Milwaukee in September.