Everything still revolves around Elly. When he’s locked in, taking his walks and picking his spots, the entire offense feels dangerous. One single turns into instant chaos. When he starts pressing, chasing spin, trying to do everything himself, you can feel rallies lose air fast. We watch his first plate appearance like it sets the tone for the night, because more often than not, it does.

The infield shuffle is the other constant conversation. McLain’s absence still hangs over everything, and we’re all measuring how well the replacements are holding the line. India grinding through at-bats matters more than the box score shows. CES has nights where the power feels inevitable, then stretches where pitchers find the holes and we’re left waiting for the adjustment. This lineup works when it stays relentless. It stalls when it gets impatient.

On the mound, Hunter Greene nights feel different. When he’s commanding the fastball and landing the slider, the park buzzes. When the pitch count climbs early, everyone starts glancing toward the bullpen by the fourth. Lodolo’s health is something we all think about without saying much. We need his innings. Simple as that.

Late innings are still an exercise in trust. No automatic button anymore. Who gets the ball when it’s tight, who handles traffic without turning it into a mess, who earns the crowd leaning forward instead of groaning. Every close game feels like a test.

Great American plays small when the weather warms, and you feel it inning by inning. Balls jump. Leads disappear. That’s why being there matters. You feel momentum swings before they show up anywhere else, sitting there, watching to see if tonight’s chaos finally breaks our way.