As the game was slowly collapsing around his young shoulders Sunday night, debris piling up, chanting fans closing in, Walker Buehler turned to his puzzled infielders with one last show of his renowned confidence.
Only this time, he wasn’t. Only this time, his words drifted into the thick air and disappeared into the hostile night.
He couldn’t find his composure. He couldn’t find his focus. And, my goodness, he couldn’t find the stinking strike zone.
This time, reality bit, taking a chunk out of the growing Dodgers legend of Walker Buehler while biting into a National League Division Series with the Atlanta Braves that is suddenly closer than it should be.