How the Rays were broken by the merciless Brewers, who are on the verge of a World Series sweep

The Rays' chances at a comeback appeared to fall apart when the Brewers scored eight two-out runs in the fifth inning of Game 3

Oct 27, 2026 at 10:52 am ET • 5 min read

ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. — There comes a time in every battle when exhaustion overtakes reason. When the body can no longer summon what the spirit demands. When even hope, sometimes, the most stubborn of human instincts, begins to surrender.

Then comes the cruelest realization of all. The one that settles in the pit of one's stomach before creeping between the ears and whispering:

We can't beat these guys.

For the Rays, that realization might have arrived in the top of the fifth inning of Monday's Game 3 beatdown at the hands of the Brewers.

Their hearts were ripped from their chests beneath the gaze of a sold-out Tropicana Field, where 40,388 fans gathered, hoping to witness redemption. Instead, they were left with a reckoning.

A 10-1 reckoning, to be exact, one that puts them on the brink of elimination of this year's World Series.

It's easy to point to the seven straight hits that produced eight runs. All with two outs. But look a little closer. The resignation began long before the pain set in. Before the pulse came to a bludgeoned halt.

The tone was set when Jackson Chourio laced his third straight single off Freddy Peralta with one out in the fifth.

That's when the bullpen began to stir.

That's when Peralta's pitch count continued its climb toward 87 on the evening. That's when his breaths grew deeper, as though he sensed the bloodbath awaiting him if he couldn't regain command. That's when his mechanics began to betray him, landing too soon on his front side and robbing him of his usual extension.

And that's when he began reaching for the bill of his cap a little more frequently, searching for something to occupy his hands while his mind wrestled with the inevitable: The Brewers.

"I think they're good at not trying to do too much," Peralta said afterward. "They do a good job of putting the ball in play know, trying to pull the ball in play and taking a walk. I think I was feeling good but my changeup wasn't landing well tonight."

He got Jake Bauers to fly out. But then Chourio stole second. And then he walked Christian Yelich on six pitches.

Cameron Booser got the call out of the Rays bullpen after that. As did Cole Sulser.

Reality had finally washed ashore. The very reality the Rays had spent the evening trying to outrun, only to lose themselves in the effort.

Seven straight hits. Eight runs. All with two outs. A 2-0 lead had suddenly become a 10-run burial ground.

"They were spitting on good pitches and putting balls in play," said Booser, who yielded four runs in that inning without recording an out. It's a good lineup. Things seem to be going their way right now, so it's unfortunate. Worst feeling in the world. You feel like you're let your team down." 

But this is what the Brewers do.

They unraveled and mocked a Dodgers juggernaut that looked capable of rivaling the Yankees dynasties of the late 1990s and early 2000s.

They dare their opponents to take a lead, just so they can snatch it back.

They dare opposing lineups to go scoreless through the first four or five innings, knowing what awaits once the game falls into the hands of men named Uribe, Ashby, Megill, Romero and Hall.

Imagine that dread creeping in.

Opposing hitters grip their bats a little tighter.

Defenders begin moving a little faster than the game demands.

Just look at Tampa Bay, one of baseball's most fundamentally sound clubs, now withering beneath the pressure Milwaukee has become so adept at manufacturing.

Victor Mesa Jr.'s third-inning miscue cost the Rays a run. It was the club's third error in two games.

The Brewers don't merely capitalize on mistakes. They make opponents fear committing them.

"With them, they are executing really well, and that's what the results say," Tampa outfielder Chandler Simpson said.

But the execution is only just a sliver of the torment. 

Because what does it really mean for William Contreras to challenge a pitch called a ball to Junior Caminero, and once again be right, in the bottom of the fifth inning, other than to administer another dose of novocaine to the Rays' already numbing pain?

Or for Sal Frelick to lay out for a diving grab in the eighth inning with a 10-run lead, other than to preserve what was then a staff-wide one-hitter?

This is what got them here.

The Brewers want to bury their opposition. Yield no mercy. Leave no memory of what success might feel like, just in case their opponents start believing in it again.

Or, as their manager, Pat Murphy, puts it: "We want to step on your throat."

And they have. In the harshest of fashions.

Milwaukee allowed Tampa Bay to believe it could compete through the first two contests, winning each by a single run, only to strong-arm the Rays like a father who's grown tired of letting his child believe he can win an innocent roughhousing match.

The Brewers took down Nick Martinez, Drew Rasmussen and Peralta just as they had dispatched Tarik Skubal, Yoshinobu Yamamoto and Blake Snell.

Griffin Jax awaits. Just as Tyler Glasnow did in the NLCS two weeks ago.

The Rays can't beat these guys. 

Not this group. And inside the clubhouse, much like Los Angeles after Game 3, there was a sense of that. 

There's still more to play. The Rays know that. They will compete. 

But still, there was a sense of peace, not demoralization, hanging over the Tampa Bay clubhouse. The Rays haven't played their best baseball. But sometimes, the explanation is simpler than anyone wants to admit.

The other team is just better. The Brewers are just better. 

And now they stand one victory away from the first World Series championship in franchise history.

"This is a best-of-seven series," said Murphy. "It looks like we're in the driver's seat, but it's baseball. Anything can happen. I like the way we battle. I'm going to choose us when we can."