Gerrit Cole’s face scrunched up as if he’d just choked down a cocktail of dread and disgust as Kyle Isbel’s fly ball drifted toward the right field wall in Kauffman Stadium. The New York Yankees were just seven outs away from putting away the Kansas City Royals – “pesky,” as many bigger-city dwellers might damningly call them – but now Isbel’s drive was fixing to ruin their night.
And within just a few slo-mo frames, Cole’s reaction likely distilled what so many Yankee fans have been feeling for the last week, or few months, or maybe the better part of this century.
The 3-1 game would not become 3-3. The ball would die at the fence in Juan Soto’s glove – shout out real ballparks with normal right field dimensions – and Cole would escape with a seven-inning, closeout gem.
And so he emoted, a scream of triumph and relief that betrayed the impish detachment he carried for much of his two starts in this American League Division Series. Oh, the 155 pitches he delivered in his two starts came with great conviction, and the Yankees won both of those games. Yet Cole never looked totally comfortable, not with every game a close-and-late affair, not with Kansas City flush with excellent contact hitters who make playoff baseball a daunting challenge for their rivals.