Back in the heat of summer, when the American League pennant race was still relatively cool, a grey-thatched seer named Casey Stengel squinted into the future. He saw his New York Yankees and the Cleveland Indians scrambling through the stretch drive toward the flag. "That Cleveland," he said, with magnificent scorn for the team that last year had beaten him out of his sixth championship in a row. "I hope everybody beats them. Cleveland! All they got is Wynn and Score for pitchers. Detroit! They been a disappointment. But they'll be doing me a favor if they beat Cleveland."
Last week Fifth...
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