Dodgers vs. Reds: Dodgers in 3

This one is tougher than two-year old off brand jerky. On paper, the Dodgers should take this series and still have enough time to get their nails done before the NLDS. Payroll disparity? Check. Superstar hitters? Check. Rotation depth? Sort of. Bullpen that looks like the result of a chemistry experiment gone wrong in a high school lab? Oh, absolutely.

The Reds come in hot, riding late-season momentum like a hungover guy stumbling into Vegas and hitting blackjack three straight times before breakfast. They’ve got enough young bats and athleticism to make life uncomfortable. Everyone loves Elly De La Cruz flying around the bases like a caffeinated cheetah, but don’t forget their soft spots — streaky hitting and a pitching staff that occasionally mistakes the strike zone for a suggestion.

The Dodgers, meanwhile, are limping. Will Smith’s dodgy hand makes it likely Ben Rortvedt and his bat that’s quieter than a vegan at a Texas barbecue gets the nod behind the plate, and Max Muncy’s body is playing a cruel game of “Guess Which Muscle Will Betray Me Next.” And let’s not even mention the bullpen unless you’re into gallows humor — every late lead feels like a trust fall where nobody’s standing behind you.

Still, playoff baseball isn’t about who’s perfect. It’s about who’s less broken. The Dodgers have enough star wattage with Shohei, Betts and Freeman to cover their sins, and if their starters can get them to the seventh inning without an arm falling off or Dave Roberts pulling one of his patented “this looks like a good time to get Joe Kelly some work” disasterclasses, they’ll scrape through. Expect the Reds to steal one, maybe in dramatic fashion, but the Dodgers’ money and muscle win out in three.

Padres vs. Cubs: Cubs in 2

This one’s less of a series preview and more of a scheduled execution. The Padres are a Ferrari with a lawnmower engine. All glittering contracts, no horsepower. Their lineup is overpriced underperformers, a collection of Topps Chrome cards that somehow depreciated before you could even peel off the wrapper. The starting pitching? If you saw it at a garage sale, you’d haggle down from a dollar to fifty cents.

Yes, yes, the bullpen is great — but that’s like bragging about the brakes on a car with no wheels. You can’t close out a game you never lead.

The Cubs, on the other hand, are quietly competent. Not flashy, not overwhelming, but balanced. They’ve got bats that can mash enough to mask their rotation warts. Kyle Tucker appears to have rediscovered how to swing like a human being instead of a drunk lumberjack. The middle infield? Solid. And they’ve got just enough pitching to avoid turning Wrigley into a pinball machine.

This won’t be close. The Cubs’ bats will light up the Padres’ rotation, and by the seventh inning of Game 2, San Diego fans will be distracted Googling “how long until Bogaerts’ contract expires.” Cubs sweep in two.

Tigers vs. Guardians: Tigers in 3

Now this is fun. No big payrolls. No rosters stacked with MVPs. Just two scrappy Midwest squads punching above their weight and refusing to go quietly.

The Tigers looked like division kings a month ago, 15 games clear, before collapsing like a cheap lawn chair. The Guardians, meanwhile, crept back into relevance with the persistence of weeds in a sidewalk crack. They don’t quit, and they don’t scare.

Both lineups are light on thunder. They’ve got one stud each — think José Ramírez for Cleveland, Riley Greene for Detroit — and a supporting cast that would be bench players on any big-market roster. What they lack in star power, they make up for in stubbornness.

The separator here is pitching. Cleveland has arms, but Detroit has the arm: Tarik Skubal. When he’s on, he’s surgical — slicing up lineups, carving ERAs, and making managers second-guess themselves. A bona fide ace wins you a series like this.

Expect this one to go the distance. Expect games where bunts matter, where one bad hop decides everything, where managers get cute with bullpen matchups (an AJ Hinch specialty) and fans gnaw their fingernails to dust. In the end, Detroit rides Skubal’s golden left arm and sneaks out of the chaos alive. Tigers in three.

Red Sox vs. Yankees: Red Sox in 2

Ah yes, the rivalry that has sold a thousand books, documentaries, and curse-breaking merchandise. The bad news? One of these teams has to leave immediately. The good news? It’ll be the Yankees.

New York is Aaron Judge and Max Fried, and then a lot of expensive dead weight. Their offense is a shadow of its myth, a greatest-hits album with no new singles. The Red Sox, meanwhile, are riding momentum, playing like a bar band that suddenly realized they’ve got a record deal on the line.

Boston’s lineup has depth, even if it lacks headline megastars. Their bats can string together rallies, their bullpen is just about good enough not to bridge a game to Aroldis Chapman, who has been the best reliever in baseball this season, and they play with that pesky, hate-to-face-them energy. In October, that matters.

This series won’t feel like Yankees-Red Sox classics of old. No bloody socks, no Bucky Dent moments. Just a Red Sox team that wants it more, sweeping the Yankees out in two. Somewhere, ghosts of Babe Ruth and George Steinbrenner will be slamming whiskey shots in disapproval.

As always, let us know if you agree or disagree in the comments or on Twitter. Thanks for reading.