LOS ANGELES — Walking out of Dodger Stadium after Game 4 of the 2018 World Series, two drunk guys next to me started a “FIRE ROBERTS!” chant, and they kept it going as they trudged toward the parking lot. There wasn’t a wink and a nod with the chant. This was the easy release of steam from a pressure cooker, done methodically to prevent an explosion, and it was entirely earnest. “FI-RE ROB-ERTS,” and there wasn’t a clap clap clapclapclap after it. Too mad for the clap clap clapclapclap.

No one joined in, but there were chuckles and grumbles all the way down the hill, and everyone was talking about the bullpen and Dave Roberts and the bullpen and Dave Roberts and the bullpen and Rich Hill and Dave Roberts. It was like spinning a radio dial from left to right, and every station was coming in crystal clear and playing the same song, just at different points. The bullpen management chatter was going to No. 1 with a bullet.

Rich Hill had allowed exactly one hit through six innings, and he left with a four-run lead. The Dodgers would eventually lose the game after the bullpen completely melted down. This wasn’t just a second-guessers’ paradise. There was plenty of room for the third-guessers and fourth-guessers.

What if Rich Hill kept pitching? What if Kenley Jansen came into the ninth inning like a danged closer should? What if that guy didn’t pitch, and that guy did, or what if that guy pitched later than he did, with another guy pitching instead, but not after ...

There’s something to all of this. If Dylan Floro came into the seventh inning to face Brock Holt — platoon advantages be damned — it all probably would have worked out. If Kenta Maeda came in, if Alex Wood came in, if Ryan Madson came in, if Rich Hill stayed, if Walker Buehler came out and threw an inning, it probably would have worked out. Hell, if Kiké Hernandez threw an inning, it probably would have been fine. Three runs usually don’t score in the average inning. Odds are against it.

Just look at those odds, actually. With the help of FanGraphs, we can put numbers on what the chances were that the Dodgers were going to blow a four-run lead.

Even after Hill walked Xander Bogaerts to start the seventh, the Dodgers were still 95-percent favorites to win the game once there was an out in the inning. Now, this is all based on the average team, which doesn’t account for the relentless power of the Red Sox, but you get the idea. It’s really hard to screw up a four-run lead in the seventh.

Here’s what that win probability looks like after Mitch Moreland’s home run:

The win probability is still entirely in the Dodgers favor. Again, adjust for the Red Sox and the pressures of the World Series as needed, but the larger point is that baseball isn’t so complicated once you have a lead.

Bring in Madson right then. Bring in Buehler. Bring in Kiké. You’re probably going to win.

It’s when you start screwing up the permutations that people have questions. And the way you screw up the permutations is when you start screwing up the permutations. That’s the secret to bullpenning, to avoid the tautologies. Bring in the relievers who aren’t going to give up runs, dummy.

What Roberts did was bring in Scott Alexander, who walked the first batter he faced, which led to ...

And it all becomes so clear after that, at least in retrospect. Hill should have stayed in. Even though he walked the leadoff batter of the inning with a four-run lead — the baseball equivalent of a starting pitcher having smoke come out of his ears as his eyeballs read “TILT” — he probably could have done it. In retrospect.

What this analysis ignores is that Dave Roberts almost certainly knows more than you. Knows a lot more than you. This isn’t just basic appeal-to-authority nonsense. It’s a simple fact. Of all the people on the planet, Roberts is a top-three authority on the exact state of the Dodgers’ bullpen on October 27, 2018. He’s armed with more data, more anecdotal evidence, more gut feeling than you will ever have about anything in your life. He knows that Pedro Baez shouldn’t be used. He knows that Julio Urias isn’t available.

He also knows that Rich Hill isn’t exactly a candidate for a complete game, too.

Q. Can you just take us through the decision to take out Rich in the seventh and go with Alexander and then Madson? DAVE ROBERTS: Well, prior to that, before the top of the 7th was going on, it was a long sixth for us. And I had a conversation with Rich, and we talked about it. He said, “Keep an eye on me. I’m going to give it everything I have. Let’s go hitter to hitter and just keep an eye on me.” So right there, I know Rich did everything he could, competed, left everything out there.

Again, Hill walked the first batter of the seventh. When your pitcher says, “Keep an eye on me” and then walks the leadoff hitter with a four-run lead, you’re not thinking he’s going the full eight or nine. You are instantly thinking about the best way to stop the bleeding. Roberts kept Hill in to face Eduardo Nuñez because that had been a favorable matchup all game long, and it worked.

Everything after that didn’t work, and that’s what we’re talking about, the mess that followed. Even if it isn’t entirely fair to look at a baseball game like that.

For some people, everything is so goddamned simple, like life is a video game. You bring the letter to the old lady near Death Mountain, you get the potion. It’s not hard. You push this lever, you get this pellet. If you JUST DO THIS THING THAT I’M SUGGESTING now that I know what you did wasn’t successful AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE WORKED OUT JUST FINE.

These people don’t know that Roberts talked with Hill about his status, and they’re not thinking about Hill being a very talented 38-year-old, but still very much a 38-year-old, literally the oldest starter for the Dodgers in a World Series game since Jackie Robinson was still around, and one who’s at the end of a long season, in which he cracked the 130-inning mark for just the third time in his 14-season career. They don’t know that Baez and Urias weren’t available, that there were other things to consider after the longest game in the century-plus of postseason history.

This isn’t to absolve Roberts. This isn’t to suggest that nobody else would have navigated the gauntlet in a way that led to a Dodgers victory. Again, throwing a dart at different headshots of the pitchers in the bullpen would have probably led to a Dodgers victory, and it’s only through the dumbest of luck and unfortunate choices that this was all screwed up so badly.

But it’s to remind you that even the people with all the information screw up. Albert Freaking Einstein was constantly reevaluating his work and ideas, continually aware that he didn’t have all the answers, even though he was Albert Einstein. There is nothing more Einsteinian than saying, “Wait a sec, I screwed up, hold on, gimme a sec.” Nothing. Einstein loved submitting papers confirming that he had screwed up with his earlier papers.

Roberts had a whole mess of information, and he used it to screw up. This will happen for the rest of eternity, in every discipline, for every person who thinks they have all the answers. Roberts talked to an older starter who wanted to be watched, he talked with a couple relievers who weren’t physically capable of saving the day, and he juggled those chainsaws the best he could. They sliced his thumbs off because, yeah, chainsaws will do that.

Consider that Roberts brought his best reliever, Kenley Jansen, in to face the heart of the Red Sox order in the eighth inning. What a sabermetric fantasy that was! For years, nerds have bemoaned the idea of a power reliever being saved to face the 6-7-8 hitters in the ninth when the 3-4-5 hitters in the eighth represented the larger threat.

Roberts made the smart gamble and it didn’t work. Baseball loves a good wedgie, after all.

It doesn’t hurt to remember that the Red Sox are good at hitting. For most of the series, they were trapped in one of those dreams where they couldn’t punch the bully tormenting them, just couldn’t ... cock ... the ... hand ... back. Their best hitters were oh-for-everything, and it it was a huge mess. All series, the Dodgers had the answer for every possible player and scenario. They had the secret book on every All-Star caliber hitter on the Red Sox, and their pitchers were executing perfectly.

Then it gets to Dylan Floro against that lineup, or Scott Alexander, or Kenta Maeda, and, look, you understand. The Red Sox should beat a bullpen like this every so often. Their accumulated talent, which was good enough to win them a pennant, which was good enough to break a franchise record for wins that had stood for 106 years, might shine through against the lesser-known talents of the Dodgers bullpen. Don’t forget to give the Red Sox credit.

And don’t forget that the bullpen answer for the Red Sox has been “Uh, hope Joe Kelly is vintage Aroldis Chapman now?” Roberts is out here trying to patch together a solution with dreams and old chewing gum, and Alex Cora is watching Kelly pump 99-mph fastball after 99-mph fastball by surprised Dodgers, like that’s how he planned it all along. Dude had a 4.39 ERA this year, and he was walking all sorts of batters. Doesn’t matter. He’s a bullpen god now. For some reason.

The Dodgers screwed up. If they had to do it over again, they wouldn’t screw up. And for a team that hasn’t won a championship since the World Wide Web was launched, these moves rankle. They came at the wrong time, and they shouldn’t have come at all, and dang it, dang it, dang it, someone needs to take the fall.

Just know that Dave Roberts was armed with all of the data he needed. He’s a smart guy who understands his players and the game of baseball a lot more than most of the people reading it.

It just didn’t work out. I know that’s not a hot, sexy take, but it just didn’t work out. The road to second place in the World Series is paved with good intentions.

The Dodgers can certainly win three straight games against a team, any team on the planet, so don’t dismiss them yet. But also don’t walk around and chant that Dave Roberts should be fired. Two smart and talented teams are in the process of beating each other up, and all we know is that someone is going to get hurt.

We shouldn’t be surprised. And yet we always, always are. Always, always, always.